“But I don’t know, and I don’t have any books about krakenmens.”
“Krakens,” Mercer corrects, smiling and clearing his throat to cover what I’m pretty sure was a chuckle. “I also like that big brain of yours, kiddo. People who ask questions get answers. When am I coming to dinner? That’s up to your mother. The house is probably still a bit of a mess, huh?”
“I helped unpack,” Zack declares proudly, little chest thrust forward. “I help a lot. Grandpa says I’m the house man.”
“Man of the house.” I start gathering things hastily, only to hear,
“Ah, very important. I helped my mother a lot, too. Yes, thank you, by the way. I would love a juice box. What flavor?”
“Apple. I don’t like grape.”
“I love grapes, but not the juice. Too sweet, and that artificial purple is an insult to grape-lovers everywhere.”
“I have to cut my grapes in half.”
Oh my God. My kid is telling Mercer everything. Too many things. All little, insignificant things, but it feels so odd, like an invasion of my privacy and invasion of the kraken’s time and interest. “I’m so sorry. Zack doesn’t have much chance to talk to other people. It’s mainly just the two of us.”
“I understand that.” Mercer looks at me, then sinks down, closer to Zack’s height. “I don’t talk to many people, either. I talk to my cousin. He says I’m a big grump and should talk more.”
Zack gives Mercer a highly offended look. “That’s mean! You’re nice. Not grumpy. My mom is only grumpy when I touch stuff she said not to touch.” His eyes get wide. “Don’t touch the laptop. Mommy loves her laptop. She’s on the line and pays the bills and buys toys.”
“I think we should go,” I say, wondering if the lifeguard will do CPR on me if I just die of embarrassment from oversharing. “I’m... I’m so sorry. I think someone is a chatterbox today,” I mutter, lifting Zack in my arms.
Mercer frowns. “He’s a very personable young man. If more people were sincere and sweet like him, I would talk more and have more friends.”
“That’s true,” I have to admit. “He is sweet. Just excited to meet a new person and tell them way too many boring details.”
“Oh, I wasn’t bored.” Mercer walks with us up the beach, waving at a girl with long brown hair in a red lifeguard shirt as she strolls to the lifeguard station. “I was about to ask what mommy does ‘on the line.’”
I blush. Did that sound as bad to him as it did to me, or am I being so weird around a single man because all of my small talk muscles are atrophied? “I’m a medical records transcriber. I do a lot of work for insurance companies that work with ‘boutique’ or ‘concierge’ practices.”
Mercer looks confused, so I elaborate.
“The kind of doctors who don’t accept insurance up front, so the patients pay out of pocket or pay an annual or monthly fee upfront, and then they put through claims to their insurance company. Since the doctors aren’t in the system, they have different forms. I transcribe notes and records to support the claims and try to help people get some kind of compensation. It’s a boring, but steady job. It pays the bills.” I hug Zack tighter to my side. This wasn’t always my job. I got it after Eli left, when late-night worry sessions between feedings resulted in phone searches for “stay-at-home-mom remote jobs for people with an unfinished health sciences degree”.
“That sounds tedious.”
“What’s tedious?” Zack asks.
How come he can say “tedious,” but not “courageous”? This kid...
“It means hard, long, and boring,” I supply. “But it pays the bills, and it lets me have time with this little guy.” I didn’t meanto say what I said next, but it came out, a soft mutter, “andonlythis little guy.”
Krakens have very good hearing. “It is hard being new in town. Or being the only one to look after someone.”
“Do you have kids?” Zack asked.
“No, but my mother became very ill when I was younger. I took care of her, the way she always took care of me. And uh—well, when she didn’t need me to take care of her any longer, I went looking for a place to call home and family to make that home with. I haven’t found them yet, but my cousin has found his happy place in another little town in New York, so I thought I might do the same.”
I appreciate the way he skimmed over what I can only assume was his mother’s passing, even though I want to know more, and my heart hurts for him. I’m grateful that he didn’t put the thought of losing a mother in Zack’s head, though.
Part of me also appreciates that little detail about no kids and looking for home and family. That’s a steady sort of guy, right?
Or he knows what lines to say to women. Eli knew what lines to say to you, as long as he still wanted you.
“Mom, if Mr. Mercer comes for dinner, we can play. You work?” Zack asks through a sudden yawn.
“Honey, that’s a sweet thought, but we aren’t ready for company yet. We can’t serve a dinner guest frozen pot pies.”
