Page 64 of Bred By the Minotaur
Her face is already turning pink. “And I like your dad. A lot.”
Milo’s face is radiant at these words. “Wow. Cool. Darla will be happy when I tell her.”
My mother and Phoebe take turns returning home and helping out Sandra. Sandra even makes the trip to the hospital to say hello and bring me some “adult-sized” slippers she knitted. I know it’s so that I can visit her house.
It feels as if we’ve built a little family of our own.
I ask about the girl from the apartment above the restaurant, and I’m told she inhaled a lot of smoke, too. But she’s doing better than I am and should be released soon. She was barely bruised in the incident, and her family sends me flowers and a balloon with a note that makes me tear up.
Soon, I’m spending more time awake than I am asleep. My breathing grows less shallow and strained, and they have to pump me full of oxygen less and less often. Hope blooms in Phoebe’s blue eyes, and it helps to know I’m fighting for a life with her.
When the doctor comes back the following day, Phoebe asleep in the chair, he wears a slight smile.
“I think you’re in the clear, Mr. Pittsfield,” he says, looking over his chart. “There will be some long-term damage, but over time it’ll improve as your body heals.”
I’m buoyant. Utterly over the moon.
All it takes is whispering Phoebe’s name and she wakes up. The doctor leaves us alone together as I give her the news, and she cries happy tears on my chest.
I’m free to go home under the condition that I return for routine checkups and testing. It looks like I made it through the worst of it, though the leg is still just as broken.
I’m given a cast and crutches, which are a nightmare to wield. Phoebe and my mother help me out to the car, and I’m sure this will just be the first of many times. It’ll be months before the bone weaves itself back together and I can walk properly again, and there will always be a crack through my left hoof.
Then, at last, I’m home again. Unfortunately, going up and down the stairs is too much work, so I take up residence on a cot downstairs.
At night when the light is off, Phoebe sneaks down the steps, and I welcome her onto the cot with me. We can still make love as long as she’s on top, so she’s frequently in my lap, bringing my cock inside her at her own speed and angle. It’s harder than ever not to go off early, with no control like this, but I get good at biting my lip and holding it back.
It’s the worst time to be laid up. Everything takes five times as long with my busted leg, and while Phoebe’s belly rounds, I can barely help out around the house. Usually the best I can do is entertain Milo, which he loves. It’s wonderful to get so much time at home with my kid, but I also ache to be helpful, to be useful.
Luckily, I have the most fantastic family in the meantime. Sandra comes over whenever she can get out of bed for dinner, and sometimes we all pile into her small house instead. As the good weather fades, we take as much time as we can to barbecue in the front yard.
“I can’t get over this book I just read,” Sandra says from her camp chair. It’s the special kind with a built-in footstool. “Just blew my mind.”
My mother turns away from the grill top. “Oh, are you a bookworm?”
Sandra glows. “Yeah. It was kind of my hideaway when we were kids. I would just bury myself in a book when I felt sad or lonely.”
They fall into a steady conversation about books while Milo drives his Big Wheel up and down the sidewalk. Phoebe stands next to me, and I don’t think she even realizes she’s had a hand cupping her stomach.
I hop over on my crutches and take over turning the hot dogs now that Mom has gotten caught up in a conversation and forgotten about them.
Everything feels perfect, but there’s still one thing we need to do. We put it off after my fall, but now Phoebe’s starting to show. We have to come clean with Milo.
After dinner one night, we all sit down in the living room while Milo arranges miniature horse fences around where Darla is sleeping on the floor. I clear my throat to get my little bull calf’s attention.
“Hey, Milo. Remember a while ago when I told you that you have a mother?”
Milo cocks his head. “Yeah. I know who it is, though.”
We all stare at him.
“Wait, what?” I adjust my leg in its cast so I can sit forward on the couch. “You do?”
“It’s Phoebe, right?” Milo continues placing the fences until the circle is closed around the sleeping cat.
Phoebe and I gape at each other. Silence fills the room until my mother says, “Yes, it’s Phoebe.”
Milo shrugs as he plants a plastic horse figurine inside the corral with Darla. “Thought so.” He finally sits back and glances up at Phoebe. “Do you work for the baby factory? Are you bringing the other baby here, too?”
