The cab driver made eye contact through the mirror. “Not at all.” He didn’t sound too enthusiastic about it.
Cameron chewed on his gum, held his head high, and entered the facility. Posters of super-thin gymnasts lined the walls in the waiting room. Mothers shoved their children into jackets too heavy for this weather. In the corner of the waiting room, Hobie sat with an instructor. He stared up at the ceiling. The poor kid was bored out of his fucking mind.
“Hobie!”
“Cameron!”
The kid’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning, and a warm feeling zipped directly to Cameron’s heart. It’s always nice when somebody was that excited to see him. Hobie and his stubby legs ran up to Cameron. His backpack jiggled on his shoulders.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Hi,” the instructor said warily. “Are you a parent or guardian?”
“I, I guess I’m a guardian. Walker Reed called ahead about me.” Words fell out of Cameron’s mouth, and he hoped they made sense. “And I do believe he emailed in a permission slip requesting I receive temporary custody of the boy in that which I can escort him home this afternoon.”
The instructor nodded slowly and clocked Cameron’s please-don’t-be-bloodshot eyes. “Can I see your driver’s license? I’ll go check.”
Cameron handed it over. “Thank you.”
Hobie tugged at his sleeve. “I did a somersault today! Wanna see?”
“Super cool! I’d love to!”
Hobie squatted on the floor, getting into position when—
“Hobie,” a mother yelled behind Cameron. “You shouldn’t tumble on a tiled floor. Only when there’s a mat underneath.”
The mother, a beacon of WASP perfection motioned for Hobie to stand up. She shot Cameron a look that turned him into an ice sculpture.
“Are you picking up Hobie?”
Cameron nodded.
“What’s your name?” Her words were caked in judgement and disdain. His lips wouldn’t move. Maybe if he kept silent, she would go away.
“It’s Cameron!” Hobie said.
“Thank you, Hobie,” the mother said in a sunshiney tone that was a complete 180 from how she just spoke to Cameron. She continued staring at Cameron, observing him. He kept grinning, like nothing was up, like nobody could smell any alcohol on him because he sprayed himself with cologne and chewed gum.
“Are you Walker’s boyfriend?” She finally asked.
“A family friend.”
Cameron was two seconds away from jumping through the front window and running down the street when the instructor came back with his ID.
“Thank you, Mr. Buckley.”
Cameron smiled with victory at the mother.
“Take care, Hobie.” The mother patted his head, which Hobie barely tolerated. “Please have either father call me when you get home, okay?”
She gave Cameron one more onceover and exited with her mini-me daughter.
“Sir, can I talk to you for a second, if you don’t mind?” The instructor pulled Cameron over to a row of seats facing the cab outside. Her frown was just as dramatic as her smile. “Can you let Walker know that we had another situation today?”
“Situation? I thought Hobie was potty trained.”
“Not that. Walker will know what we mean.”
