Page 76 of Interpreter

I clear my throat. I need to ask him before the sales guy approaches. “How old before a child doesn’t need a car seat?”

There, that’s not too obvious, right? Wrong. Theo straightens and pins me with a serious look. “Why do you need to know, Lambros? Did you knock up the teacher already? God-fucking-da—”

“No,” I’m quick to interrupt. “Milah isn’t pregnant. That’s not why I’m asking.”

His gaze still looks suspicious.

“I swear.”

Fuck. He’s going to make me say it. If I don’t, he’ll grill Milah or tell Cade, and well, nothing good can come from making Theo curious.

“There’s this student.” Yes, a student. “And I was thinking of offering him a ride when he stays late, working with Milah and me on sign language.”

Theo’s forehead wrinkles. “The little boy who sat with you at the festival? He’s deaf?” See, Theo may act shitty and hard on most days, but he really does care.

“Not yet,” I say, “but he will be eventually unless he can get this implant thing.”

“Why can’t he get the implant?”

Why can’t he just answer my question about the car seat issue?

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. “Because it isn’t covered by insurance. At least not all of it.” That’s what his social worker said when I asked her about getting a better hearing aid for him. I thought maybe Oliver could benefit from something stronger. Some brand name that would hold up longer. Anything to keep his hearing for as long as possible. When he goes deaf, he’ll need to remember those sounds to keep his voice from sounding off. Eventually it will, as it will with me, but I want him to have more time.He needs more time.He’s too young.

“So why don’t the parents pay the rest? What’s the problem?”

“He’s a ward of the state.” I hold Theo’s gaze, willing him to drop all the questions. I need to know about the car seat, not disclose all my cards. I don’t want Theo to start putting the pieces together.

“Lambros,” he says, coming closer. “Are you attached to this kid?”

I swallow, searching for the right answer and coming up with… silence. I’m not ready to acknowledge my feelings, to myself or him. Not yet.

After a few awkward seconds, Theo grins, tipping his head. “Okay, Lambros. Denial it is.” He looks at me smugly like he now has some dirt on me. I can live with that as long as he doesn’t tell his wife yet. “So, car seats…” He shrugs. “I’m not sure. Anniston knows all about it, but I’m sure we can look it up.” He looks around at the other patrons visiting the car lot. “Or we could ask one of the women here. Since you asked me and not Anniston, I’m taking you don’t want to share your little baby secret quite yet.”

“He’s not a baby,” I say after chuckling lightly. “He’s six.”

Theo grins. “You’re in deep, Lambros. Tell the truth. Is purchasing this car about the kid or the girl, because I highly doubt you’re doing it to prove Dr. Parker that you won.”

Technically, I did win. I achieved what Dr. Parker challenged me to do. I secured a job. I excelled at said job, and I made a few friends outside my family, which was not on his list. Now, I will have the car and will officially be able to say that I’ve moved on. Part of this purchase is because of that. But like I told Dr. Parker, I want Milah safe and… I’d like to do more things with Oliver. Show him everything I can before his hearing wanes. He needs to experience a concert, so when Milah interprets one, he’ll feel the passion and remember the experience. I want him to hear all there is in the world. From birds to opera, I want him to experience it all. He deserves it.

I look at Theo. He isn’t being smug now; he simply wants to know if I’m changing. At this moment, after everything he and his wife have done for me, I want him to know this truth, “I want to be independent—whatever else happens, happens.”

Theo nods appreciatively. “All right, Lambros. Let’s get you a dad car.”

I groan, fighting a smile and the feelings swirling around in my gut about the word “dad.”

Fuck my life.

Of course, my car would pick today to crap out two miles from the house. It’s karma getting me back for calling Samuel a spoiled little twerp behind his back. Or it could have been the fact I wished Coach Murano would get a kidney stone so he would know what it felt like to be a pain in someone’s side. Honestly, it’s probably neither.

It’s just been a really horrible day. First, Principal Moorehouse called me in his office.

“Milah, I’m terribly sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the board has gone over the financials and they’ve decided to cut the language program early.”

“How early?”

“After the holidays.”

One month from now. He doesn’t have to break it down for me, I already know how long until the holiday break. I, like most teachers, count down to the blessed time off from the beginning of the school year.

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