Chapter 5
Boris.
Abort. Abort. Abort. I need to steer the conversation in a different direction. I can't say I moved away from the pack--which from now on out is a forbidden word--to be close to him.
"So, Ira..." Eh, what to ask? "What were you showing Simon in the car? Was it something you've drawn?"
I remembered there'd been some papers. It was most likely why they'd remained in the car for so long.
Ira shakes his head.
"No?"
Another headshake.
Silence stretches, and I frantically cast around for something to say. Normally, I have no problem keeping a conversation going, or a monologue for that matter, but I need to impress Simon.
"Ira's class is selling cookies for fundraising. He was showing me the order form in the car." Simon sips on his water.
"Oooh, cookies. I like cookies. Whatcha selling?"
Simon's eyes widen. "Oh, you don't have to..."
Yes, I do. I can see it in his eyes. They shine with a mix of relief and hope? Gratitude? Whatever it is, it stirs something in me.
"Tell you what, Ira. After we've eaten, you can run back home to get the paper, and I'll buy something. Everyone likes cookies, right?" Though I normally bake my own.
Ira's dark, bottomless eyes jump between me and Simon, then he nods.
Great! Finally, something I can do.
We finish the meal, and I might bask in the praise a little more than I should. Pasta is simple after all, but Simon thanks me over and over.
Maybe Zahrah is wrong, and he wants me to kiss him. Then I remember I'm supposed to learn things about Ira's mother.
The timing must be right.
I start clearing the table. "Coffee?" I raise an eyebrow in question to Simon.
He glances at the clock. "Ah...maybe a small cup."
"Ira, coffee?"
He blinks at me as if I've lost my mind. "No, thank you."
Woohoo, a three-word statement. Never in my life did I think I'd come across a child this quiet. I smile at him. "Why don't you go get the cookie thing?"
Simon pats his pockets and fishes out a keyring with several keys. He singles out one and holds it out to Ira. "I put the papers on the kitchen table."
Ira grabs the key and scurries off.
"Thank you so much for the food and for the cookies. We don't have anyone nearby, so these kinds of activities are always hard on Ira."
This is my chance! "Where is his mother?" For a moment, I picture how I'll call Zahrah after this and tell her how smoothly I ferreted out all the information I need, then I notice Simon's expression, and I want to shoot myself. He looks heartbroken.
Fuck, maybe they had a bad breakup. I've only lived here for two months. Maybe she moved out at about the same time, and it's still a bleeding wound. I'll be his Band-Aid, but I never meant to poke him where he hurt the most.
"She passed away when Ira was about six months old."
Double fuck. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stick my nose--"
Simon cuts me off with a wave of his hand. "She found a lump in her breast while she was expecting Ira. The doctors wanted her to terminate the pregnancy, so they could start treatment, but she refused. She was willing to die to have him despite only getting to be with him for a short while."
He looks ready to cry, and my heart aches.
"We hoped, of course. She started treatment as soon as he was born, but it was too late."
I swallow a whine. The world is such a cruel place.
"Ira's father was never in the picture. I don't know who he is, she never told me."
For a moment, I can't breathe. "What?"
He gives me a wobbly smile. "She wanted a child. It was her biggest wish. I suspect she went to a bar, hooked up with someone, and never told him. Not the best way to go about things, but..." He shrugs. "Ira is here, and I'd never wish him away."
I stare. "You're not--"
The sound of the front door opening cuts me off, and Simon turns to Ira as he enters the room. "Did you find them all right?"
Ira holds up the papers.
"Did you lock the front door again?"
A nod.
"Let me put on the coffee, and I'll have a look." I escape into the kitchen while doing my best to keep a neutral look on my face.
Simon isn't Ira's father, or I guess he is, but not his biological father. Was he okay with his wife going to a bar to fuck strangers? Maybe he can't have children. His grief was real. It was there in the shattered look in his eyes, and how his scent changed when he spoke about her.
I do my best to stop thinking and get the coffee started. Oh no, I should've made dessert. I'm so stupid. We have to have dessert.
Opening the pantry, I scan the shelves. Nothing is good enough. I allow a low growl and grab some ice cream cones from the freezer. They're nothing special. Emergency snacks.
I hold the box out for Ira. "I think they're different flavors. Chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla, maybe." I try to read the text without moving it away from his reach.
He grabs a strawberry, and I wave the box in front of Simon.
He shakes his head. "I'm good, thank you."
I shrug and grab a chocolate cone before I put the pack back in the freezer. The coffee is about done, so I grab mugs. "Milk? Sugar?"
"Milk, please."
I grab a carton from the fridge, then go back for the coffee pot.
I watch as Simon pours milk into his coffee and memorize the color he prefers.
Then I sit, peel the paper off my cone, and skim through the order form.
On the top paper, the options are listed.
I tap it. "Are you in a hurry to get this back? "
Ira only stares at me, so I focus on Simon. "I'm heading back home for a quick run tomorrow, so I can bring this to Zahrah, see if she wants any cookies for Christmas." She sucks at baking, and I know I can threaten her into buying cookies.
"You don't have to--"
"Of course I do. Leave this with me." I'd seen the look in Simon's eyes. This is important to him.
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