Page 10 of For Fox Sake

Bernie picks up the coffee mug on the counter next to her and takes a sip. “You’re right, of course. You’re also a dickhead magnet and I don’t know how to help you.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes, carefully flipping another pancake. “I don’t need help. I’ve only dated, like, four people in my whole life.”

“Yeah. And they were all dicks. They could do studies on your ability to attract the dickiest of dicks. It’s like a reverse superpower. When I told you I wanted to help you find you some dick, I was hoping for some non-dick dick.” She sets her mug down with a clink.

Maybe she could find the guy from the grocery store.

“I think that little spiel deserves some kind of award for the most excessive use of the word dick in a single rant.”

I’ll probably never see the grocery store man again. He was definitely not a local. Probably just driving through and long gone at this point.

But seriously, is it too much to ask for someone, anyone, who isn’t a total waste of space and also has above-average hygiene and a chiseled jawline?

I pour a couple of circles of batter onto the hot pan. “I forgot to tell you. We ran into Shane and Samantha at the store last night. She’s pregnant.”

Her mouth pops open. “Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

“What a?—”

I point the spatula in her direction. “If you say dick, I’m going to throw this at you.”

She crosses her arms over her button-up black shirt. “So, you’re telling me the antichrist has been conceived and I should brace for the upcoming apocalypse?”

I laugh. “Basically.”

Footsteps thud down the hall. “Bernie!” Ari slams into her side, the braids I spent twenty minutes on this morning half undone already. If I try to tame the unruly strands, they will just revert to chaos within an hour. Ari cocks her head at Bernie. “What’s a poco lips?”

Bernie reaches down, patting her head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Is my cape clean yet?” she asks me.

“It’s in the dryer. It will be ready in a little bit.”

She frowns. “I need it for my outfit.”

I scan her hot-pink capri pants and blue-and-yellow-striped shirt.

“Yep. A red cape will look perfect.” Bernie chuckles.

“I know. Can I play outside?”

“After breakfast, and only if you stay in front of the house.” I can keep an eye on her from the porch while I get some work done. Our cul-de-sac contains four condos and two small homes, all of which are currently occupied, but not much traffic turns down our road. I just have to make sure she doesn’t venture out to the busier cross street.

She scrambles into the seat at the round dining table. I scoop the rest of the pancakes off the griddle and put together a plate, setting it in front of her.

“Did you want some food before you leave?” I ask Bernie, gesturing to the remaining stack.

“No thanks, I gotta get to work. I’ll see you both Wednesday?”

“We’ll be there.”

“Bye, Bernie.” Ari waves with her fork. “Tell Grandma hi and I love her.”

“I will, sweetie.”

Bernie works in IT at the hospital. Mom lives on the skilled nursing floor. She’s been there for almost a year. I visit two to three times a week, sometimes with Ari and sometimes without, either on my lunch break or after work, whenever I can squeeze in some free time.

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