Page 73 of Husband of the Year
Ruth winks at me and I wonder if it might be inappropriate to scoop her up in a giant bear hug. There’s no mention of rehab, which I’ve already told Vincent about, but also no mention of Greggie’s mother.
“I think their parents are going to take custody,” I say.
“That seems wise,” Ruth says. “But, boy, is Olan fond of that baby.”
“And there’s no way…” Vincent says but doesn’t complete his thought.
“No way what?” I ask.
“You and Olan…” Vincent smirks and wipes his mouth again.
I shrug. “He hasn’t mentioned it.”
“Mentioned what?” Ruth asks. “You two taking him?”
“I mean, he hasn’t brought it up.” I take a sip of my espresso tonic, the bitterness mixing with sweetness from the quinine as the bubbles tickle my nose.
“Have you?” Ruth cocks her head and gives me what I’m assuming is her teacher look. Being a PE teacher, there’s an athleticism to it.
Vincent joins her by tilting his head and raising his eyebrows as he glares at me.
“Me?” I pull my head back, attempting to avoid their dual eyeball interrogation.
“Yes, you.” Ruth dips her head and gives me what I’m going to call her Teacher Look Version 2.0: The Mid Boss.
“No. I mean, I haven’t brought it up because I had no clue that was an option. Or that he’d want that. Or that we’d…” I nod to the side,indicating Illona. “Be in a place to have a… ittle-lay other-bray in the ouse-hay.”
“Marvin, sometimes people tell you things without actually saying anything,” Ruth says. “It’s called an inference.”
“Like when I need another napkin, you just know. I don’t have to ask anymore.” Vincent holds up the extra napkin near his coffee. “All the talking about the… aby-bay. Maybe Olan’s trying to feel you out. Gauge your reaction. Test the waters. See if you mention the possibility of custody.”
“Oh.” A dryness crackles through my mouth and it takes effort to swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Oh? Oh?” Ruth’s stare evolves to its penultimate form—Teacher Look Version 3.0: The Final Boss.
Vincent places his hand on my forearm and offers a half smile. “How do you feel about it?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t really… I mean, she…” I nod at Illona. “This is more than I ever thought I’d be parenting. And she’s easy.”
“Yeah, this girl is the dream.” Ruth chuckles. “Drinking her chocolate milk and writing her deep dark secrets while the adults kibbitz.”
“You never thought you wanted to be a father, and Illona’s changed that.” Vincent moves his hand to Illona’s shoulder. She looks up at him and smiles, then returns to her notebook. “Maybe Olan’s nephew might change how you feel about being an uncle.”
“Vincent’s right,” Ruth says. “Talk to your man.”
“Think about it.” Vincent tips his cup back, carefully swallowing the last sip of his coffee. “You’ve always told me communication is key.”
“Damnit,” I say. “I hate when my advice comes back to bite me in the ass.”
“At least something’s biting your ass,” Ruth says.
“Munch, munch.” Vincent uses his hand as a makeshift puppet and pretends to chomp at my bum.
Vincent and Ruth flash a look at each other and burst out howling.
Illona, hearing the commotion, takes her headphones off, rolls her eyes. “Adults. Oy.”
Her statement, delivered in a deadpan tone my mother would adore, tickles my insides and I join my friends in their chorus of laughter.
