Chapter 4 Bruno
brUNO
Bruno found himself thinking about Clarice for most of the following day, turning over their brief and alarming interaction in his mind. Was she convinced by the story of Gil sneaking into her car? Had Bruno said anything suspicious? Did she look particularly doubtful of the explanation?
Was she single?
For no reason at all, he kept circling back to that last question, and he had no idea why, beyond the fact that she was absolutely adorable.
He wasn’t looking for a relationship, and she wasn’t a shifter; Bruno had vowed not to date anyone who didn’t understand what being a shifter, and the parent of a shifter, truly entailed. Not after Tracy.
Tracy swore she was okay with Bruno’s armadillo side.
She treated it like it was just a quirk at first, a funny private joke.
But it wasn’t so funny when their baby turned into an armadillo in her arms, and it was even less funny when she packed her bags and left in tears.
“Knowing you were...what you are is one thing. I can’t be the mother of an animal. ”
Bruno had tried to rationalize it through with her. Gil was still their baby Gil. He just had an ability and like all toddler learning new skills, he wasn’t good at it right off the bat. If she could just get through until Gil had control over it...
Tracy wasn’t willing to weather it, and Bruno knew too well that it wasn’t just Gil that she couldn’t bear. The way she looked at him had changed. She didn’t see Bruno, she only saw the monster.
Am I a monster? his armadillo asked slyly.
Bruno snorted in amusement. “You aren’t a monster if you’re asking the question,” he said out loud.
It was one of those in-jokes that they had.
A lifetime with a voice in your head meant you either got to know them well or went completely insane.
It also cemented his certainty that dating Clarice would be a terrible idea.
People who weren’t shifters would never understand one.
Despite his best intensions, he couldn’t get Clarice out of his mind all day, playing their conversation over in his head in the breaks between clients, at school pick-up, and during the drive home after picking Gil up from Tiny Paws.
Gil was more subdued than usual, and Bruno didn’t question his good luck as he went through the motions of hanging up their coats, emptying their lunch boxes, and setting things up for the next day, still thinking about Clarice.
Veronica Chase was considered nothing but trouble in shifter circles, but did that extend to her assistant?
It was hard to think of Clarice as trouble.
She seemed so earnest and kind.
Maybe she was trouble of another type…
Bruno stumbled and nearly pitched into the kitchen island. He looked down to find a tangle of clothing.
“Gilbert Bronson Martin!” Bruno stooped to pick them up. There was no answering shout and Bruno had a stab of unease.
It may not have been much of a surprise, but it was a bit of a backslide, because Gil had been getting really good at taking his clothing with him since he started kindergarten. And it wasn’t like Gil not to answer when Bruno called, no matter how much trouble he was getting himself into.
Which meant…?
Bruno closed his eyes and listened to a thread of agitation, letting it lead him down the hallway, past the door to his room, and then past Gil’s.
The hall closet at the end was cracked open, and sure enough, there was a leathery ball under the bottom shelf, in with the towels and sheets.
Bruno nudged it with his foot. “Hey. I found you! I didn’t know we were playing hide and seek.”
Gil shifted back into a little boy, but didn’t get out of the closet. He was still small enough to fit sitting underneath the shelf, but he wouldn’t be for long.
“What’s wrong, pup?” Bruno crouched down beside Gil, who had his arms wrapped around his knees, almost as much in a ball as he had been as an armadillo.
“They said I had LESPERY.”
Bruno had no idea what lespery was. “At Kindergarten?”
“No, TINY PAWS. Because I’m an ARMADILLO. No one would touch me.”
Oh. Bruno knew what he meant, then. Bruno knew because he’d been a kid who could turn into an armadillo. And he’d grown up in rural Texas, where there was only one kind of armadillo, and everyone knew why you shouldn’t touch them. “Leprosy.”
“THAT’S WHAT I SAID. LESPERY.”
“Kiddo, we’re three-banded armadillos. We can’t carry leprosy.”
“Are you SURE?” Gil’s big dark eyes were bright with unshed tears, his eyelashes quivering.
“Positive. Cross my heart.”
“Hope to DIE?”
“Hope to die,” Bruno promised.
“DON’T DIE!” Gil wailed, with all the logic of a five-year-old.
Bruno recognized the trap he’d walked into as he scooped Gil into his arms. “I’m not going to die,” he fibbed, because the whole truth was too complicated.
Bruno knew the danger of lies of convenience all too well, but he didn’t want to have to explain general mortality to a five-year-old. He wasn’t going to die now, at least.
“Do you know what leprosy even is?” Bruno asked, standing with Gil and bouncing him. He’d be too big to bounce, soon enough.
Gil shook his head against Bruno’s shoulder, still snuffling. “No.”
“It’s a disease that makes your skin fall off, like a zombie.”
That got Gil’s attention. “Like a ZOMBIE?”
“Like a zombie but not dead,” Bruno said.
Gil considered this. “Could I have a LITTLE lespery?”
“Sorry, pup. Only nine-banded armadillos can carry leprosy.”
Gil pouted. “They get MORE BANDS, too.”
“But they can’t make perfect balls like you and I can,” Bruno reminded him. “Only three-banded armadillos can do that.”
“I’m a really great ball,” Gil said, satisfied.
“You forgot something, though,” Bruno reminded him.
“MY CLOTHES!” Gil chortled. “I forgot my clothes!”
Bruno put Gil down, letting him drop the last few inches just to make him shriek, and he ran happily off to get dressed.
Bruno watched him go with a twinge of regret.
He wanted Gil to have a better life than he’d had and it galled him that his son would be bullied about the same sort of things.
There were no armadillos in Montana, and the chance of an armadillo actually passing on leprosy was vanishingly unlikely, but apparently the rumors had followed him here.
Bruno sighed. It was still better to have Gil in afterschool with other shifter kids at the Tiny Paws day care.
“I CAN’T FIND MY OTHER SOCK!” Gil hollered.
“Did you look around?” Bruno asked, marching down the hall to make dinner. “It’s probably where you left it.”
“I FOUND IT!”
“Where was it?”
“In my BOOT.”
“Look there first next time,” Bruno advised.
“What if it’s NOT THERE?”
“Then you look in other places.”
“What if it’s NOT THERE?”
Bruno recognized a feedback loop when he was in one. “What do you want for dinner?”
“HOT DOGS.”
“We had hot dogs last night. How about grilled cheese? We’ve got some bread to use up.”
Gil sighed dramatically. “I guess.”
“You can dip it in ketchup,” Bruno said coaxingly.
Gil looked thoughtful. “And pickle relish?”
“Sure.”
Bruno would have agreed to weirder things for a peaceful meal.
Getting Gil into bed was like trying to put a tornado in a butterfly net.
For a kid that was unfailingly cheerful and kind, he was also as obstinate as they came and could lawyer like an ambulance chaser.
“I’m hungry,” he stated, when Bruno had finally gotten him out of the bathtub and into pajamas.
“You had a big dinner,” Bruno reminded him.
“It’s all RUN OUT!” Gil said gravely.
“It doesn’t run out that quickly,” Bruno argued.
“I’m a GROWING BOY,” Gil countered. “I need my ENERGY!”
Bruno recognized the exact words he used to get Gil to eat when he didn’t want to. “But it’s not time for food energy now,” he countered. “It’s time for sleep energy. Let’s plug you into your bed and recharge!”
Sometimes that analogy worked.
Tonight, it did not.
“I’m FULL of sleep charge and EMPTY of food!” Gil tried to slither down the hallway towards the kitchen instead of back to his bedroom and Bruno blocked his path and steered him the other way.
“You won’t starve before morning.”
“I WILL TOO. I’LL STARVE AND BE A SKELETON AND YOU’LL BE SORRY.” Gil went limp against Bruno’s hands, not exactly resisting, but definitely not helping with their journey down the hall.
“I’ll take that risk,” Bruno said, pushing against the unexpectedly liquid boy. “It’s time for bed.”
“It’s time for FOOD.” Gil’s voice took on a note of challenge. “I’m HUNGRY.”
“You should have eaten more at dinner,” Bruno said, trying not to sound cross.
He didn’t want Gil to be hungry, but it was frustrating trying to feed him when he didn’t want to eat and then get him into bed when he didn’t want to go.
Was he really hungry because he hadn’t had enough dinner or was it just a ploy?
“I’m SORRY,” Gil said, his face falling in a whiplash change of mood. “I WASN’T hungry THEN and I AM now. My tummy is too empty to sleep.”
Bruno knew he shouldn’t give in, but this was a battle with no winning. “You can have a half a glass of milk. A small glass.”
Gil gave him a sunny smile and Bruno knew he’d been had.
Gil scampered past him to the kitchen, dragged the step stool to the counter, and climbed it to get one of the plastic cups from the bottom cabinet shelf.
“I’m like a MONKEY!” he said. “Do you know any MONKEY SHIFTERS? There aren’t any MONKEY SHIFTERS at TINY PAWS.
I wish I could grow up to be a MONKEY. Or a TEACHER!
Or a SYGOLOGIST! I could fix brains, like you. ”
Bruno got the milk out and poured the glass half full. “That would be a good job,” he agreed with a sigh.
“OR I COULD BE A FIRE ENGINE!”
This required siren noises, and nearly spilling the milk as Gil skidded to the table to sit in his booster seat.
“Drink up,” Bruno nagged, as Gil took the tiniest sips he could manage to stretch it out. “We don’t have all night.”
Gil swung his legs and took another tiny sip.
Bruno was just debating whether he could make it go faster with a funnel or a turkey baster when his phone rang. He recognized the clutch in his gut as a trauma response. “Tracy,” he answered flatly.
“HI MOM!” Gil hollered in the background.
“Hey, Hon.”
Bruno ground his teeth and reminded himself that she was Southern and this wasn’t an attempt to manipulate him. Give her the benefit of the doubt. Don’t assume the worst. “What do you need?” he asked shortly.
“I thought I’d call and say goodnight to Gil,” she said airily.
Buno stuffed back a dozen snarky answers. “It’s after bedtime,” he pointed out.
“He’s still awake. I heard him.”
Bruno had no reason to keep Gil from talking with Tracy, so he gave Gil the phone and cleaned up the mess that he’d made on the table with his milk while Gil trotted away. It was important that the boy nurture ties with his mother when possible, he told himself.
Gil brought the phone back after just a few minutes. “ALL DONE!” he said. “I have to PEE.” He scampered down the hall.
Tracy was still on the line. “What is lespery? Is Gil being bullied?”
“Leprosy,” Bruno groaned. “I don’t think anything has escalated to bullying. Just a little teasing. I don’t think it will amount to anything.”
“Is that your professional opinion?" Tracy asked pointedly. “Why leprosy?”
“Because nine-banded armadillos can be carriers of leprosy.”
Tracy was silent. “And he’s…”
“An armadillo, yes. Three-banded. It’s not actually a risk for Gil at all.”
Tracy gave a brittle laugh. “Your little affliction just gets more and more complicated.”
“It’s not an—” Bruno sighed and refused to be baited. “Was there something else you wanted?”
“I thought I should tell you, instead of letting you find out about it later. I’m getting married. I told Gil. I think he understands.”
Bruno waited for the emotional load to hit him and was not reassured when it didn’t. He was just putting off the inevitable hurt for some later time. “Does this…change anything?”
“I’m not going to be asking for custody, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Tracy said flatly. “We’re planning our own family.” A normal family, was the unspoken bit. “This is just…a courtesy call.”
“I appreciate it,” Bruno said, exactly as coldly. “I’ll send a gift.”
“Bruno…” Tracy’s voice softened. “I don’t want Gil to think that I regret—”
“I would never tell him that,” Bruno said ferociously. “Whatever my feelings about you are, whatever your feelings are about me, Gil is the best thing we ever did together, and I will let him keep the fiction of a mother who loves him no matter what he is as long as you can.”
“I do love him,” Tracy said tearfully. “You know that. Don’t be unfair.”
Bruno regretted his harsh words. He’d been without her longer than he’d been with her now, but it still stung his pride that he’d misjudged the strength of their relationship so sorely.
He couldn’t let that get under his skin.
“I won’t lie to Gil when he gets old enough to ask direct questions, but I will always paint you in the best light I can. I won’t be the wedge between you.”
“Thank you,” Tracy said. “That’s all I can ask. There’s a Christmas gift in the mail for him.”
“I’ll let you know when it gets here. Good night.” Bruno hung up and waited for the anger to hit.
It didn’t come.
Tracy had moved on and he felt only relief. He didn’t have any reason left to try to mend what they’d broken. That chapter of his life was over, and that door was shut.
Maybe—just maybe!—it was time for a new chapter. He found himself thinking about the woman who had brought Gil back from his adventures. Clarice.
“Gil? Are you ready for bed?”
“I’m WASHING MY HANDS,” Gil sang from the bathroom. “WITH SOAP.” There was an ominous crash. “I’M OKAY!”
A new chapter would have to wait for this one to go to bed.