Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Enzo
I’m still trying to remember how breathing works when Axel turns to Luca. “You want to see your new room?”
“He has his own room?”
“Of course, he does.” He smiles at Luca.
“You live here, don’t you? Silly uncle.” Then his face whitens.
“Though, um, I don’t have a room for you.
I’m sorry. Patricia needs her own space.
We can move into a four-bedroom later. Boston has some awesome suburbs.
Or we could go fancy and get a historical townhouse.
We can pretend we’re all living in the eighteen hundreds! ”
Luca blinks.
“That’s back when men wore wigs. A wig is like a hat, but it looks sort of like real hair. People wonder if you’re really good with the curling iron or really good at buying lifelike hair.”
Luca blinks again.
So do I.
Axel opens a door. “This is your room, Luca.” He glances at me. “Come in, Enzo. All together.” I follow obediently. I regret it once Axel shuts the door, and we’re in a dark room.
“Look up,” Axel says.
Axel has decorated the ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars. My breath catches.
“See the stars? They look like space, right?” Axel asks.
Luca cranes his head up.
“Aren’t they pretty?” Axel continues. “Your uncle loves stories about space.”
My throat dries. I remember walking across the quad at Concord with him, frost crunching under our shoes, pointing up at the winter sky and naming the constellations.
I remember the blue glow of his laptop screen during Star Trek marathons, the warmth of his shoulder against mine, pretending I didn’t want him to kiss me.
The stars glow green-white above us. Luca’s face is tipped up, his eyes wide. He looks like his father. My chest aches.
“You can see them when you fall asleep. But when it’s day…” Axel flicks on a light. “… You can play.”
I look around the room. It’s amazing. A sleek orange car bed is in one corner, and a large play mat is on the floor in the shape of a busy intersection. Axel picks up a toy car. “See, we can pretend to be driving cars on the street? Isn’t that cool?”
Luca’s lower lip wobbles. His whole body goes rigid in Axel’s arms. My stomach drops. The car bed. The play mat. The pile of toy cars in the corner. Gaby died after a car accident. Luca was in the back seat.
Axel looks at me horror-struck. “You know what? Maybe we should get another one.”
He flips the play mat, so the intersection is obscured, then scurries to the lightswitch so we’re in the dark again.
Luca calms.
“Nothing is as good as spaceships,” I say.
Axel snorts. “Uncle knows best.”
I shrug. “I told you to appreciate Star Trek.”
“Have you seen the new Star Trek?”
“No.” I haven’t wanted to see it. It reminded me of Axel.
“Silly uncle,” Axel says. “You would like it.”
Axel ushers Luca out of the room. “Do you think you would fit on my shoulders, Luca?”
Luca chews on his lower lip.
“Let’s try it.” Axel puts Luca on his shoulders, keeping his legs steady. “Hold on.”
Luca’s small fingers grip Axel’s hair, tugging experimentally. Axel doesn’t flinch, just steadies Luca’s ankles with his broad hands.
Axel grins. “I need to put some product in so you can make cool shapes. Maybe get some spray-on dye.” He glances at me. “Do they sell them?”
“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for children to be spraying dye from high places.”
Axel snorts. “Good point. See Luca, sometimes your uncle is smart.” He stiffens, and maybe he doesn’t like the idea of praising me.
He turns away and shows Luca the rest of the apartment.
“So like I said, I, uh, only have three bedrooms,” Axel tells me awkwardly. “I have some bedding here. I thought Luca would take one guest room and Nanny Patricia would take the other.”
“That makes sense,” I say brightly.
“It does make sense, but I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. This is temporary.”
“Sometimes units become available in this building,” Axel says.
“I’m not just leaving Luca with you,” I say grumpily.
I hesitate.
I probably offended him. Axel is Luca’s dad, and the law doesn’t require him to put me up. I grab the bedding. It’s cold and stiff in my hands, still wrapped in plastic.
“I’ll put Luca to bed,” I say.
“I’ll help.”
“It’s not necessary.”
Axel’s face falls, but he nods. “Sure. Call me if you need me.”
Axel crouches beside Luca, says goodnight in a voice so gentle it doesn’t sound like him at all. Then the door clicks shut behind him, and I’m alone with my nephew and the stars on the ceiling and the ache in my chest that won’t go away.
Axel
Voices sound from the kitchen, and I throw on the robe I got for a Christmas present one year, then go out to join them.
“Good morning!” I exclaim.
Enzo and Luca glance at me shyly.
That’s fine.
“Did you sleep okay?” I ask.
Enzo nods, but the circles under his eyes have deepened overnight. I want to tell him to go back to bed, but the apartment is open-plan style, and Enzo’s bed is just a few feet away from the kitchen.
I want to tell him to take my bed, but the offer sticks in my throat.
I hate the strange formality between us.
It’s weird.
“Did you find things you like for breakfast?”
“Yes.”
I glance at his bowl. “You don’t like oatmeal.”
“It’s okay.”
Luca is also eating oatmeal, which makes sense because he’s two and because he’s my son and I think oatmeal is fucking awesome. Enzo doesn’t though, even though he’s managed to eat half a bowl. I shake my head.
I go to the fridge and remove the eggs and the meat I had delivered yesterday. “Everything in the fridge is yours.”
“You don’t have to—”
I open a cabinet door, then remove a pan. “This is where the pans are.”
I put the pan on the stove. Enzo joins me.
I turn on the stove, then grab the olive oil. I frown at it, then put it down and get the coconut oil from the fridge. I spoon some out and put it on the pan.
“You got coconut oil for me?” Enzo’s eyes are wide.
The coconut oil sizzles when it hits the pan. I crack the eggs one-handed, the way my mom taught me, and I feel Enzo watching. His attention prickles along my skin. “I need to have you running at full capability. It’s for the team.”
“Oh.” Enzo no longer gazes at me with wonder.
I finish making him breakfast, then I make my own eggs with garlic and olive oil.
When I turn back, he’s almost finished eating his breakfast. I knew he hadn’t suddenly developed a taste for oatmeal. I knew it.
Patricia comes to join us, and I show her the kitchen.
It’s going to be weird to go from doing this apartment solo, to having it filled with four people. And sure, technically, she could just have come in the morning and left at night, except when Enzo and I are traveling.
But Enz and I are new to the whole parenting thing, and he definitely seemed to think the round-the-clockness of the nanny agency was a plus, and I won’t take that from him. Besides, no point having Patricia be exhausted from a commute before she even starts her workday.
Patricia apparently is an oatmeal woman, and we eat together.
Patricia and I do most of the talking. Enzo carries himself like he’s hurt. I run through our last game, trying to remember if he took any bad checks. Old me would have offered him a massage, but new me decides to put on some music.
I show Patricia and Luca and Enz the remote control for the sound system, and then we listen to some music as we get ready for the day.
I excuse myself to shower and dress quickly, then go to join them.
“Ready, Enz?” I ask.
“We don’t have to go together,” he says.
“You don’t want to ride with me?” My heart drops.
Why does he dislike me so much? What happened?
I thought we were best friends. How did I get it so wrong?
He must see something on my face. “I mean, we can ride together. If you really want. I-I just meant that we don’t have to. You’ll see enough of me anyway, and it’s not required. That’s all I meant.”
“We live together now. Of course we should travel to the same workplace together.” I hesitate. “Or do you have a car?”
He shakes his head. “It’s still in LA.”
I sigh. I need to remind Enzo to move his things here. The man’s executive function is atrocious.
“Public transportation is great,” he says defensively. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“This is Seaport, Enzo. There’s no subway stop downstairs. I’m sure we can survive a brief car ride in an enclosed space together.”
For some reason, he looks doubtful. Before he moved back to Boston, after he went silent on me, we would only see each other on the ice.
He used to head straight for me, practically tackling me against the boards, so we would wrestle.
The people in the stands used to love it.
I’d been confused.
“If I’d known Gaby was pregnant and wanted my help for anything, I would have provided it,” I tell Enzo. “You should have known you could ask me.”
He closes his eyes.
I’m pretty sure sperm donors aren’t normally involved in the whole child-rearing process, but I would have been happy to help, just like I was happy to help create Luca.
“I always liked Gaby,” I tell him. “She was really cool.”
He flinches like I’ve said something painful.
“We don’t have to do this,” he says. “Please.”
“We need to talk about this,” I say. “Communication is a good thing.”
“I’m about to go to work,” he says. “It’s stressful. Everything is stressful. Let’s not talk about this. I know it happened. I know you would do it differently now. I get it.”
“But—”
“Please?” Enzo’s voice is pained.
Right. I don’t want him to be actually unhappy. Not more than he is.
Maybe talking about Gaby reminds him that Gaby isn’t here, and yeah, that’s incredibly sad. I can understand why he doesn’t want to talk about her.
“I get it,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
He nods, but his eyes are no longer squeezed shut, and I take it as a victory.
“Want to go shopping after practice?” I ask.
He opens his eyes fully and looks at me.
“I wanted it to be perfect,” I say mournfully. “I can’t believe I got car-themed things.”
A chuckle escapes him. “I can’t believe you got him that either.”
I clutch my chest in mock offense. “Enzo! You were supposed to say, ‘you couldn’t have known, and being a dad is difficult’.”
Enzo giggles, then presses his lips together, startled.
He glances at me. “You know… You’re going to be a great father.”
The words land on my chest.
People think I’m silly and great at hockey, but those aren’t real. Being a good father is real, and Enzo is someone who has done his best to distance himself from me these past few years.
“I bought my son whose mother died in a car accident a car bed.”
“And you realized the problem at once. I’ve never seen anyone flip over a rug that quickly.”
I laugh. “Maybe I can start a rug store. Or non-car focused play mats!”
“Non-car focused play mats?”
I nod eagerly. “Like for horses and things. Horse trails. Or dinosaur valleys. Does Luca like dinosaurs?”
“I’m not sure,” Enzo says. “I didn’t see him that often. He has some dinosaur clothes, but he wasn’t one of those kids spouting facts.” He tilts his head, considering. “Though he’s two.”
“You mean maybe that’s coming?”
“Maybe.”
Maybe we’re both thinking that right now, Luca doesn’t say anything at all.
“Okay, after practice, let’s pick up Luca, and we’ll all go shopping.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Children are unpredictable. He might cry or something. Have an accident.”
“Then we’ll take extra training pants,” I say. “And we’ll try not to overwhelm him. But if he cries, he cries. Toddlers cry. Older people too. It will be fine. I promise.”
Enzo smiles as I pull into the arena’s parking lot, the arena looming before us, and he’s still smiling as we walk to the entrance.
The wind off the Charles is sharp and cold, but I barely feel it.
We walk into the arena together, shoulders almost touching, and for one stupid second, it feels like nothing ever went wrong between us.