“You wanna see my Hot Wheels?” Jagger asked, more animated than I’d seen him in the admittedly small amount of time I’d been around him. I took it as a sign he was warming up to me, and I beamed inside. Thoughts of running as fast as I could fled as he awaited my answer.
“Absolutely.” I pushed back from the table and took my plate to the sink. When I turned around, Jagger was waiting in the doorway and Michael was staring at me. “I mean, if that’s okay with your dad.”
“It’s fine.” But it wasn’t, not really. The lack of any sort of inflection in his tone was a dead giveaway, as was the frown he sported as he watched the two of us. Michael seemed saddened by the fact that his son wanted me to spend time with him when he’d blown off every attempt his dad made to engage him. “I have to get dishes washed up. Maybe he won’t sneak out if you’re with him.”
Bitterness. He was definitely jealous, but it seemed like there was something more to it.
“Hey, you cooked. If you want, I can help you clean up after we take a look at his cars,” I offered, jerking my head to the side, silently suggesting that Michael follow us.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said as he stood from his chair. Apparently, being subtle didn’t work well for him. “He wants to show you. Go.”
“Jagger, why don’t you go get your cars out and I’ll be there in a minute,” I suggested so I could speak with Michael in private. It may not be any of my business, but I needed to know what in the hell was going on around here. I waited until I heard the little metal cars clanking onto the hardwood floor before prying. “You can tell me it’s none of my business, but is everything okay?”
Rather than the angry challenge I expected over my audacity, Michael’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat as he practically fell into one of the kitchen chairs. He didn’t say anything at first. Then, with his chin pressed to his chest he shook his head, even as he said, “Yeah, it’ll be fine.”
I couldn’t help myself. Without thinking too much about it, I quickly crossed the room and placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. He relaxed as I gently massaged the muscles, which were solid as granite. I knew I should stop, but I didn’t. Instead, I moved directly behind him and began kneading both shoulders at the same time, taking note of his reaction as I varied the pressure and tempo. I’d have expected him to jerk away and ask me what in the hell I was thinking, but he simply dropped his head to the table and motioned for me to continue. So, I did. “Again, tell me to butt the fuck out, but what just happened at this table was anything but fine.”
“Shit, maybe they’re right,” he said cryptically. I wished there were something more I could do to comfort him, but I was pretty sure I’d already jumped over the line of what was considered acceptable. “I should be able to do this. He needs me to figure it out.”
“Hey, I know we don’t really know one another, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here,” I offered. When I was going through all my shit, it helped to have a safe person to vent to from time to time. Someone who wasn’t familiar with whatever was going on in his life. Someone whose only focus would be on listening without injecting their own opinions. I wanted to be that someone for him.
Michael shook his head. “No, you don’t need my shit on your plate. But thanks for offering.”
There was nothing more for me to do. If he wanted to talk, the offer was on the table, but I wasn’t about to push. “Whatever you say, man. Now, let’s go out and see Jagger’s cars. Even though he only invited me out there, I’m sure he’d love to spend some time with you.”
Michael snorted in disbelief. “You saw how he was at dinner. He’s in one of his moods where he wants nothing to do with me,” he protested weakly. “I figured I had about another ten years before that kicked in.”
“Look, I’m not a parent, but I’m thinking that’s exactly why you need to get your ass out there,” I insisted. “If you let him screw with your head this way now, imagine what type of shit he’ll try pulling when he’s a teenager.”
And that’s how I wound up spending my Monday night on the floor of Michael’s living room playing with Hot Wheels. Jagger handed me one car after the next, telling me all about the make and model of the vehicle. His knowledge of cars was impressive. I thought I knew a lot about the classics, but he put me to shame. From time to time, I glanced over to Michael, urging him with my eyes to join us.
Whatever was going on between him and his kid, he needed to prove that he wouldn’t be pushed aside. From personal experience, I knew how shitty it felt to be on Jagger’s side. All he wanted was for his dad to really see him, but there was something clouding Michael’s vision. If they couldn’t get past that, Jagger was going to grow up resenting his father the same way I did my own parents.
“Okay, buddy. It’s time to say goodnight,” Michael said. I glanced out the window to see that it was already getting dark.
“I should probably get going,” I said, using the edge of the couch to push myself off the ground. My hip protested after sitting on the hard floor for so long.
Michael noticed my discomfort and rushed to my side. His hand felt hot against my skin as he steadied me. I tried to jerk away, not wanting the pity that typically followed when I was too sore to hide the pain I lived with every day. “You helped me, now let me help you.”
I tried to hide the smile threatening to break across my face and shook my head. The man had a point. Damn it. “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. There was no way I’d be able to avoid taking a pain pill tonight.
“Jagger, why don’t you head in and pull out your pajamas? I’ll be up in just a minute.” The little boy pouted and didn’t budge from his spot on the floor. “Come on, if you get ready for bed quick enough, maybe we’ll curl up and watch a show before you go to bed.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that was a bad habit to get into, that kids shouldn’t watch TV right before bed, but I bit off the words before they escaped. No one liked a know-it-all, and it wasn’t my place to tell him how to parent. Now that I’d gotten to know them a bit more, I was realizing the problem wasn’t that he was incompetent as a father, but that he was struggling to accept his role. I wondered more than once where Jagger’s mother was, but again, not my business.
Jagger came over to me and tugged at the leg of my jeans. Yes, it was still hot and sticky outside, but I never wore anything other than jeans. I couldn’t because then people would see the scars from the accident. That led to questions I didn’t want to answer.
“Dax, will you come over and play with us again?” he asked, so sweetly I knew I was screwed. Not only was I going to have to watch myself so I didn’t fall for Michael, but now his son was working his way into my heart.
“We’ll see,” I answered noncommittally. That seemed to be enough for Jagger, who offered me a bright smile identical to his father’s before leaving to do what his father had told him.
“I have to get him to bed, but I’d like to talk to you a bit more,” Michael told me once Jagger ran off to the other end of the house. “I mean, if you don’t have plans. I suppose I shouldn’t assume that just because I don’t have a life, you don’t either.”
“Nah, it’s cool,” I told him. “I’m still new to town, so I spend most of my spare time either working on the house or staring out my window.”
“Damn, and I thought I was pathetic,” Michael teased. “If you want, grab a drink out of the fridge. There’s nothing stronger than soda in there, but hopefully you can deal with that. The remote for the TV is in the cabinet next to the fireplace, on the top shelf. With any luck, I’ll be down in about fifteen.”
“Sounds good, but don’t you need to spend some time with Jagger?”
