Page 9 of Make Mine Sweet
Finally, she takes a step backward into her apartment. I won—but can’t celebrate.
“We’ll see you around, Ian.”
Almost sounds like a threat.
FOUR
TESS
Five-year-olds are fun.Sometimes, they don’t pay attention to significant events—like, say, a big move—and carry on as though nothing in their life has changed. Other times, they fixate obsessively on one small detail and refuse to let it go.
Tonight, it’s the fixation.
“Did you see how much Dutch likes me?” August asks as he slips into bed.
I’ve tried to keep to our usual routine, despite the new location. We ate one of his favorite dinners—tomato and basil pasta salad, carrot sticks, and green grapes—unpacked our clothes, and read through at least twenty of his most-loved picture books.
I keep waiting for him to say something about missing his Nana and Aunt Wren, but the dog he met today is taking up too much space in his brain.
Kind of the way the dog’s owner is in mine. Not like he did when I was a teen, of course. My days of getting caught up in charming men who do dangerous things for a living are long over. Apparently, so are Ian’s days of being charming, so I guess we’re good there.
Mostly, I’m thinking about how ridiculous I was to jump into this “befriend Amy’s nephew” situation without learning a few more pieces of information about the nephew.
“You were so good to pet Dutch so gently. I’m sure he liked that.” I double check the continuous glucose monitor and insulin pump on the backs of August’s arms, but they’re still on tight. We did his nightly finger prick before he brushed his teeth, and his numbers are looking good for the evening. “Your super shields are all set.”
How do you explain to a little child what insulin does or that we need his blood sugar levels to stay in a certain range or he’ll get sick? I told him about the two medical devices in broad euphemisms when he first got them a couple of years ago, settling on “super shields.” He mostly understands what they do for him now, but I haven’t let go of the cute nicknames.
He is my little superhero, after all.
“I like the guy, too.” August’s l-sounds come out sounding like a y. Heyikesthe guy.
“His name is Ian,” I remind him. Names don’t stick well in his head. He needs a lot of gentle encouragement not to call everyone new he meets “guy” and “lady.”
“Yeah, him. He’s funny.”
“Mmm.” I didn’t see much evidence of Ian’s sense of humor. He used to have one, years ago. But if I start remembering how great his laugh was or how a glimpse of his smile could make my whole day, this situation will get even trickier than it already is. Best to accept Ian exactly how he is now, with no illusions aboutPast Ianor the expectation of seeing any smiles.
“I want a big beard when I grow up, too.” August pats an imaginary beard about six inches below his chin.
I smooth his pale blond hair over his forehead, not remotely in the mindset to think of him as anything other than my tiny little boy. “One day.”
He settles against his pillow, his eyelids drooping. “He asked me to take him on walks sometimes.”
“Ian asked you to walk his dog?” It’s obvious he hasn’t been around kids much, but I didn’t think the man was obtuse enough to request pet care from a five-year-old.
“Dutch asked me to walk him.” August flashes a sleepy smile, showing off his missing tooth.
“Oh. For now, let’s just be happy when we get to pet him, okay?”
“Okay.” He cuddles his favorite stuffed ostrich closer. “Can I pet him again tomorrow?”
“We’ll see.” I’m sure the dog would be willing. It’s convincing his owner I’m less certain about. I kiss August on the forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie.”
“Night, Mama.”
I switch off the bedside lamp and leave his room by the glow of the duck nightlight we brought. Another little touch of home, like the plush dinosaur blanket on top of his bed and his favorite cups in the kitchen. I brought as much as I reasonably could to make this space feel comfortable and familiar. I leave his door ajar and step out into the decidedly unfamiliar apartment.
The rooms have a faint, lemon-fresh scent, but they’re cozy. It’s weird to be in them at all. I haven’t been on my own since before August was born, and that attempt didn’t last long. For most of my life, I’ve lived right down the hall from my mom and sister.
