Page 111 of Wild Like Us
Moffy says to me, “You could’ve called me last night too. I would’ve hiked up to you.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “But it was late and too dark.”
Farrow is studying the bite marks around Akara’s elbow. “I’m more concerned about torn muscle.”
“I have full range of movement,” Akara says, but his gaze hasn’t left me. I feel it.
“Okay, but as your doctor, I’m recommending a physical exam instead of just taking your word on it. Also, you really need stitches. So take a seat on the table, Kitsuwon.”
Akara climbs onto the picnic table next to Moffy. While Farrow rests a foot on the bench seat, he digs through his trauma bag.
“Papa!” Ripley calls out and drops his sippy-cup as he extends his arms towards Farrow.
Thatcher frowns. “Isn’t MoffyPapaand FarrowDada?”
Farrow grimaces. “Please don’t ever saydadaagain.”
Thatcher almost rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
I bend down and pick up the sippy-cup before Arkham slobbers all over it. Moffy and Farrow are kind of tense, and I know Thatcher isn’t wrong about their parent nicknames.
“Maybe he’s confusing you two?” Jane offers a rationale. “He’s only eight-months.”
“Papa!” Ripley is pulling out of Moffy’s arms to reach Farrow.
“That’s your dad, little guy,” Maximoff says as he stands up with his son. He brings Ripley over to Farrow.
Farrow kisses his son’s head, then points to Moffy. “That’s your papa.”
Ripley smiles up at Moffy. “Dada!” He hugs his tiny arms around his papa—well actually I guess Moffy is his dada.
We all laugh.
“Look who’s a little maverick,” Oscar grins. “Confirmed, that’sfor sureFarrow’s son.”
I miss the look Farrow gives Oscar because I hand baby Ripley his green sippy-cup. Not just any normal sippy-cup. Gray mountains decorate the sides, and a carabineer is on the handle.
The sippy-cup used to be mine when I was a kid. And I gifted this one to Ripley as an adoption present.
Moffy smiles at me.
I smile back. Seeing Maximoff and Farrow bring Ripley everywhere, on all the trips, all their daily activities and adventures, reminds me so much of how my parents raised me. I was always there with them. Constantly. Limitlessly. Until I guess I grew old enough to go on my own.
Ripley babbles to me, as though to saythank you.
“You’re very welcome, little dude.”
That’s all she is to me.
I wish I would stop replayingthatfucked up thing.Akara reminds Farrow to look at my cut and Banks’ wounds, and so Farrow checks us before returning to Akara.
No stitches for us.
“You two should be good with new bandages,” Farrow says, putting on a new pair of black gloves. “If any of the wounds start itching or swelling, come get meimmediately.Not the next day.”
“Sounds good,” I say, dropping the hem of my shirt.
Banks nods.
