Page 10 of Codi
“Is it?” I smile down at Lucas and offer a hand to help him onto a stool, but he determinedly crawls onto the seat by himself. “I never would have guessed. What do you usually eat for breakfast?”
I follow where Lucas points across the counter to a sad little box of frosted toaster pastries. I shake my head and push it to the side, then open the refrigerator—and find a disorganized mess. There are several expired single-serve salads, a half-full jug of milk, eggs, and a questionable tub of yogurt, among plenty of other things I’ll have to make sense of when Lucas is asleep.
“Does your mother cook very much?”
“Sometimes.” Lucas shrugs as he plays with his T-rex toy on the counter. “But sometimes she’s tired.”
Healthcare jobs are exhausting. I silently make a plan to ensure Denise’s stress levels are brought to a more manageable level. “Do you like eggs?”
“Yeah! With cheese,” Lucas says, kicking his legs eagerly. His little shoes gothump,thump,thumpon the kitchen-slash-dining counter.
“Then we’ll start there.”
I give Lucas his breakfast with a glass of milk and clean up the kitchen while he eats. After rinsing the dishes and starting the dishwasher, I wipe down the countertops and organize a few drawers.
When he wiggles down from the stool, I dry my hands with a towel. “Do you need help?”
“No, I can do it.” Lucas continues to clumsily lower himself to the ground. I fold my arms in amusement. “Will you play with me?”
“Very well. What would you like to play?”
“Dinosaurs and ninjas!”
While I’m not sure what those two things share in common, I smile and nod. “You shall have to show me how to play.”
“You’ve never played before?” Lucas looks up at me, wide-eyed, unaware that even as we speak, I’m downloading streams of child development and play into my memory banks. “That’s weird. Never ever?”
“Never ever. Perhaps you can teach me.”
“Okay!” Lucas takes my hand and yanks. “Come on!”
Nothing could prepare me for Lucas’s room: a veritable war zone of action figures, blocks, toy trucks and bulldozers, dinosaurs, and little soldiers everywhere. There are areas where I cannot see the floor. His bedsheets are cast aside, and his bed and pillows are unmade.
I calculate the odds of me stepping on something small and painful. The odds are not in my favor.
“Lucas.” I glance down at him. “Do you know how to keep your room tidy?”
Lucas appears altogether disinterested in where this conversation is going. “Oliver tried to show me.”
“Did he?” Failed miserably by the looks of it, though his hands are likely full with the infant I saw last night in his mistress’s arms when I woke. “Well, let’s clean up first.”
“But I don’t want to clean up,” Lucas insists.
“If we don’t clean up, we can’t play dinosaurs and ninjas.”
The torrential outburst that can spew from such a small human child—the infamous tantrum—is considered a nuisance for some, exhausting for others. My programming is perfectly clear on such matters. As Lucas protests, stomps his feet, cries, screams, wails, and finally collapses in a dramatic mess of tears on the floor next to me in front of his bedroom door, I stand there silently and wait.
After several minutes of this, he has finally tuckered himself out. “Are you ready to listen?”
Lucas sniffles and nods. I repeat the cleaning directive calmly and help him up to his feet. “All right, let’s go. Your mother will be very happy to see your room is clean.”
It does not take me very much time to clean anything at all, and after encouraging Lucas to take part, he listens and puts forth some effort to tidy his room and help me make his bed. I allow him to push the vacuum around when the floor is clear, which is the highlight of the activity for him.
With a presentable bedroom, I finally sink to the floor. “All right. Show me how to play.”
Lucas brings forth dinosaurs and tells me each of their names and what they eat. I listen intently and take the one he offers me, waiting patiently as he fetches figurines dressed in black carrying swords and stars from a nearby box.
“The ninjas ride the dinosaurs,” Lucas explains as though this is the most natural thing in the world. “See?”
