Interlude 3
“B rian from Idaho wants to know what I eat to stay healthy as a pro climber. I should probably tell you I eat all kinds of high-quality protein. But I don’t.”
Dan’s lips quirk up at the edges. A cat sits perched behind him on the back of the sofa grooming itself, leg hiked high, butthole on display. “The thing is we’re poor. Because I’m a pro climber with a broken leg and no sponsorships.”
Leenie rolls her eyes.
Jeremiah snuggles in closer to her side, watching Dan on the iPad screen with a starstruck expression.
She hates how much Jeremiah likes Dan now that he appears regularly on Mommy and Daddy’s precious-and-usually-denied-to-him screens.
Dan has gone from being the cruel thief of Jeremiah’s beloved Sejinie to being a shiny new celebrity, as cool as Bluey or his favorite Paw Patrol characters.
Leenie didn’t want Jeremiah watching Dan’s videos at all—especially after that horrible Get Ready With Me that’d had Jeremiah cluelessly begging to watch corn like Dan —but, of course, Martin thinks the videos are hilarious and shows them to Jeremiah any time he asks. Which is every day.
And truth be told, earlier, when Jeremiah started up a tantrum while waiting for his apple slices at Papa Bear, Leenie had broken out the iPad and cued Dan’s latest video up without even being asked.
Mainly because Sarah Kate is conked out—thank God—on the cozy chair across from them, and Leenie will do anything to keep her that way.
Chasing after two mobile children has her ready to scream, cry, and pull out her hair most days.
She’ll do whatever it takes to keep them both quiet and still for a few minutes. Even watch Dan.
“Turn it up, Mama. I can’t hear it,” Jeremiah says, squirming in excitement. “Fast-back it and turn it up.”
Leenie rewinds the video to the beginning and rolls her eyes again as Dan frowns out of the screen, adjusts the camera, and sits up straight. “Hi, my name’s Dan McBride, and I fell off El Capitan while free soloing and survived to tell the tale.”
At that moment, a question from a viewer pops up in the corner. Leenie isn’t sure if Dan did this video live originally, or if he posted the question there himself. She doesn’t have time to really use or look at social media these days, not with these two hooligans to wrangle.
“What’s it say?” Jeremiah asks, even though she already read it to him earlier.
“It’s from a man asking what Dan eats to stay healthy.”
On-Screen Dan repeats just that, and little Jeremiah nods like he knows how important a good diet is. Leenie wills Dan to say something helpful, something that’ll make Jeremiah interested in eating his vegetables. If Dan does, maybe, mayyyybe she’ll forgive him for being so…so…himself.
“—with a broken leg and no sponsorships, and my boyfriend’s a barista. So, yeah, I eat a lot of beans and rice.” He holds up a familiar box, and Jeremiah gasps with joy. “And animal crackers.” He motions toward the wadded up, empty potato chip bag on the sofa next to him. “And chips.”
“I love chips,” Jeremiah declares jumping up and down, still staring at the screen with an expression formerly reserved for Sejin alone.
Of course these are the items Dan shows, Leenie thinks. Why couldn’t he have said he eats a ton of broccoli?
“But protein is the biggest key to an athlete’s health and stamina, and if you want to support my recovery, feel free to give me your meat.”
My God, does he even know how that sounds?
His most annoying and surprisingly charming grin flashes over his face.
Ha, so he must.
“Just kidding about giving me your meat. Sejin wouldn’t like that very much, and neither would the US Postal Service.
Send grocery store gift cards. Find my P.O.
box in the description below. I’ll buy the meat myself.
Or Sejin will. Or we could get protein powder.
” His eyes go wistful, making Leenie feel a little guilty.
“Eggs. Dairy. Fish. Or you could support my GoFundMe. Link in the description. Any little bit helps. I’ve got medical bills to pay and a hungry boyfriend to feed. ”
“I like meat,” Jeremiah says, puffing out his chest. “Like Dan.”
“Then I expect you to eat all your hamburger tonight at dinner.”
Jeremiah gags. “I hate hamburger.”
Leenie sighs.
Dan claps his hands once, and the exhibitionist cat jumps off the back of the sofa and scampers away.
“Coming up soon, I’ll be showing off a little climbing trick of mine.
It’s one I call Hangboarding for Dummies.
Don’t get too excited. It’s just hangboarding featuring me, a dummy with a broken leg. Later.”
“I want to hangboard,” Jeremiah says, springing from Leenie’s lap to grasp the edge of a nearby table—thankfully empty—and lifting his little feet off to swing inches from the floor. “I want to hangboard and eat meat!”
Leenie stuffs two of his apple slices into her mouth to keep from saying something mean.
Jeremiah drops down and poses with his hands on his hips. “I’m gonna climb El Cap’tan! I’m gonna be just like Dan!”
Leenie nearly chokes.