Page 133 of Toxic Temptation
“See? We’re just as impressive as Goliath. Just in different ways.”
He nods enthusiastically, his brown hair falling into his eyes. “Did you learn all this in doctor school?”
We start walking through the exhibit, and I notice Pavel and Waylen keeping their distance, professional but unobtrusive.
“Actually, my daddy taught me these facts when I was your age. He was a doctor, too. He used to take me to work sometimes, and I had this little badge that said, ‘Doctor’s Little Helper.’”
My throat tightens at the memory. I still have that badge somewhere, tucked away in a box I can’t bring myself to open.
“My dad never took me to work,” Luka says quietly. “He said he wanted me to have a real childhood. I never understood what that meant.”
I touch his shoulder. “I think it means he loved you very much.”
Luka’s face brightens. “I know he did. He didn’t take me to work, but we went to the planetarium all the time. We’d sit under the stars and Papa would say things. Sometimes, I understood and sometimes I didn’t.”
“What kind of things?”
His expression grows serious. “He said he could see the future in the stars. He told me I’d be big and strong like Uncle Kovan. He said I’d make him proud.”
My chest aches for this little boy carrying such heavy expectations since the day he was born. “Well, it sounds like he could see the future after all.”
Luka shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I think he was just pretending. I’m not big or strong. I’m nothing like Uncle Kovan.”
“You’re more like your uncle than you realize. And there’s plenty of time to grow.”
His bottom lip trembles. “But I can’t fight like Uncle Kovan. And sometimes…” He trails off.
“You can tell me anything, Luka.”
He takes a shaky breath. “Sometimes, I don’t want to fight at all.”
“Then you don’t have to fight,” I tell him firmly. “If you’d rather read or paint or study the stars, that’s exactly what you should do.”
He looks at me with those too-serious eyes. “Do you miss your papa?”
“Every day. When I least expect it.”
“Me, too.” He glances around, then lowers his voice. “But I feel bad.”
“About what?”
“I want to be like Uncle Kovan. Sometimes, it feels like he’s my dad instead.”
The guilt in his voice is unmistakable. I recognize it because I’ve felt it, too—that strange shame that comes with moving forward after loss.
“You don’t have to feel bad about that,” I reassure him. “Uncle Kovan takes care of you. It’s natural to feel that way.”
“But what if my dad is watching from the stars? What if he feels bad that I think of Uncle Kovan like that?”
My heart breaks yet again. Over and over with this kid, I find myself trying to reassemble the pieces of my own hurt, my own love, just to give him an example of what it’s like.
“I bet you a million, bajillion bucks that he’s just happy that someone loves you and takes care of you. When you have a good parent, all they want is for their child to be happy.” I stop walking and crouch down to meet his eyes. “Are you happy, Luka?”
He considers this seriously. Then he looks at me and nods. “I am when I’m with you and Uncle Kovan and Uncle Pavel and Waylen.”
I pull him into a hug, breathing in his little-boy scent of shampoo and grape juice. “Then we’ll just have to make sure that keeps happening.”
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