Chapter 33 Finally Slow Down
FINALLY SLOW DOWN
“Damn,” his grandmother said the next morning. “He looks just like you.”
The minute his grandmother opened the door, Maverick looked up from where he was sitting on the couch watching cartoons.
Surprisingly, his son slept until eight this morning. He’d had a panic moment that something had happened and checked at seven. Even though he’d already checked at six when he’d gotten out of the shower.
Jocelyn said she’d popped her head in also.
“I thought so, but I don’t remember.”
It’s not as if there were a lot of pictures of him back then. His mother didn’t care and his grandmother probably didn’t think much of it.
Chance had more pictures of his son on his phone now than might have been taken of him most of his life.
“I’ll dig a few up. They’ve got to be somewhere. Will he let me hug him?”
“Hug?” he asked. “When was the last time you hugged me?”
His grandmother smiled. She didn’t do it often, but he could see she was just as emotional about this as him.
“I hugged you a lot when you were younger, then you got too ornery about being touched.”
“I can see that,” Jocelyn said, coming out of the kitchen.
She’d been getting another coffee. They’d been going through the list of things they needed to get and where it’d all go. Trying to be prepared for the case manager that was coming later today.
“Morning,” his grandmother said. “I’m glad you’re here for Chance. How has he been on diaper duty?”
“The first dirty one he wanted no part of. We haven’t had a second yet, but he’s changed every one since.”
It was his son. His job. His responsibility.
Maverick had to get used to his father being there for him and doing it all. Though he knew there was going to be just as much time it wouldn’t be him.
“The first is the hardest.” His grandmother moved and sat on the couch next to her great-grandson and put a bag in front of him she’d had behind her back. A gift bag.
Maverick didn’t know what it was. Didn’t know what to do with it.
It made him wonder whether the kid got any gifts to open.
Jesus. He was going to get ill.
“Maverick,” he said. “Can you open the bag? Go on.”
His son looked at him and smiled, his baby teeth visible and not that clean. Just another thing he’d have to figure out. He tried to brush them last night and his son wanted no part of it. Instead, he’d let the toddler watch him brush his own to get used to it.
He stuck his hand in and pulled out the tissue paper, Maverick yanking it out the rest of the way and giggling, crumpling it in his hand and then pulling it apart.
Guess he thought that was the toy.
“Look inside,” his grandmother said, leaning the bag forward.
Maverick’s eyes landed inside, then reached in and pulled out a bigger fire truck.
“Tuck, tuck, tuck!”
“Already has something in common with you,” his grandmother said.
Maverick turned to get off the couch by sliding on his belly. Chance wanted to help him but realized his son might be used to doing a lot on his own so just kept an eye on him and would catch him if he had to.
Once on the floor, Maverick had the truck next to him racing it around the living room, pushing it with both his hands on it.
“I’ve found he likes toys he can move with,” he said.
“Just like you. You never sat still much.”
“Not to sound like a broken record, but I don’t remember any of it.”
“You wouldn’t,” his grandmother said. “But you never sat still. You were always running as fast as you could.”
“He wasn’t like that in school,” Jocelyn said. “Unless he was in his car. Then he was going fast.”
“I won’t be driving fast with my son in the car.”
His grandmother laughed. “That’s what it’s taking for you to finally slow down?”
“Seems it,” he said.
“Would you like some coffee?” Jocelyn asked. “Maverick just got up about thirty minutes ago and hasn’t eaten yet. He drank a cup of milk and I was making pancakes, if you’d like some.”
“I’d love a cup. And it’s good he slept in late. Not so good if he does that normally when you’ve got to work.”
“No clue,” he said. “He didn’t fall asleep until after eleven. I think we put him to bed too late because he was playing. I feel as if he hasn’t had much to be happy about or play with.”
They didn’t bring a lot of toys with him and his son was more entertained with the new things. He was happy just to see his son not crying the entire time he was awake. Only when he was tired, hungry, or ready for bed.
With any luck tonight would be better.
“It’s a big transition for him,” his grandmother said. “Don’t be surprised if he misses his grandmother or calls out for her.”
“I thought of it. She said she needs a break for at least a week.”
“Piece of shit,” his grandmother mumbled.
He sighed. He didn’t want judgment cast, but he might have felt similar.
As if his son meant nothing to the people he’d spent two years of his life with.
“Grandma. Don’t swear in front of Maverick.”
His grandmother snorted and looked at Jocelyn. “Really? I think Chance is the most guilty of that.”
“I got yelled at too and didn’t even say a big word.”
“Good for you, Chance.”
“How do you take your coffee?” Jocelyn asked.
“I’ve got it,” he said and got up. Chance knew how his grandmother drank and ate everything. Or most things.
It would give his grandmother a few minutes alone to watch Maverick.
He put the teaspoon of sugar in his grandmother’s coffee. He only had sugar in his apartment for that. It’s not as if he baked anything.
“We can see if Maverick wants to eat now,” Jocelyn said. “The pancakes are done and he might be starving.”
“I’m sure he is,” he said. “I don’t know how many to give him.”
“We’ll start with one. They aren’t that big. If he eats two, then he does.”
“Hey, buddy,” he said, handing the cup to his grandmother. “Do you want to eat breakfast?”
Maverick stopped playing and ran toward the table. The kid got that quickly.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” his grandmother said.
“I’m not sure how much he was fed. He’s like an empty pit right now. We might have overfed him yesterday and given him a bellyache.”
He buckled Maverick into the booster seat, then grabbed a pancake and cut it up into tiny pieces on a small Mickey Mouse plate Jocelyn had bought.
Maverick didn’t wait to be given a big chunky fork to use and went right in with his fingers. They’d have to work on that because everything was done with his fingers just now.
“Kids get bellyaches,” his grandmother said. “You ate a ton when you were going through growth spurts.”
“I was reading everything I could last night on how much you should feed a two-year-old. There were sample menus online that some old doctor must have put together.”
“Someone always wants to tell you they know best,” his grandmother said. “I think a well-balanced diet is good. It’s not as if you’re giving him candy, right?”
“I don’t even have any in the house. I’m feeding him what we are eating.”
“When was the last time you ate pancakes?” his grandmother asked.
“Now,” he said, pulling out a seat to sit next to his son. He wasn’t that hungry having eaten a piece of toast hours ago, but he didn’t want Maverick eating alone.
Best to start with a family meal at the table now. He didn’t get that growing up and wouldn’t say it to hurt his grandmother.
But he was going to do things differently.
Jocelyn pulled out a chair and sat. “Come on, Rhea. Join us,” she said. “There is plenty.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
His grandmother sat at the last chair. He’d never had all the chairs filled at his table before. But the four of them made their plates and ate, all watching his son gobble up his pancake, then reach for his Sippy cup of water.
His son loved milk, that much was obvious, but he read three cups a day was recommended, so he’d get it at meals. One cup, then switch to water.
“Slow down,” he said and pulled the plate away from Maverick. His son let out a shout and wrinkled his face up, reaching for the plate and yelling again. “Hey. Chew what is in your mouth.”
He’d watched four pieces get shoved in one after another.
“It’s obvious he likes them,” Jocelyn said. “But he doesn’t need to choke. Though we know you and I can take care of it.” Maverick started to cough and Jocelyn was right there slapping his son on the back, but he was fine.
“Maverick,” he said. “Chew and swallow, then you can have another.”
He wasn’t letting the plate get closer to his son again until what was in his mouth was gone.
Maverick picked up his fork and threw it at the plate and pointed.
“I bet I didn’t do that,” he said to his grandmother. “You might have cuffed me.”
“No,” his grandmother said. “I might have wanted to, but I wouldn’t have.
” His grandmother reached for a piece off of Maverick’s plate and put it toward him but when his son went to grab it, she shook her head and pointed toward his mouth, made chewing noises and then opened her empty mouth to show what she’d done.
Maverick chewed his food, blinked his eyes, then swallowed.
“There you go,” his grandmother said and handed over the next piece. “Maybe do this until he slows down. He looks skinny to me, Chance.”
He sighed. “I know. I’ve got a list of calls to make today. The doctor is first. They open at nine. Then childcare has to be set up.”
“How much time are you taking off?”
“This rotation for sure and I’ve got the next rotation up in the air to see if I can swing daycare or not before then.”
He had two weeks off, or close to it at this point by taking this whole rotation off then his six days between the next.
“I told Chance I can help. My mother offered too.”
“You know I can,” his grandmother said. “You wanted me at the pub less.”
“If I’m at the firehouse, I don’t think it’s wise for us both not to be at the pub.”
He’d have to find another manager if he did that and his grandmother would get her butt wrinkled.
“I meant at night,” his grandmother said.
Which didn’t surprise him she said that.
“I’m going to need night help for sure. Don’t think I’ll be able to work too many shifts either at the pub.”
Which wasn’t good on many fronts. He was used to the tip money, which he’d need with all the costs he was incurring now, but it’d hit the business with him having to pay someone to work too.
“Chance, don’t get worked up,” Jocelyn said. “I’ve got you covered and you know it. And you might find some teens who could want to earn money a few nights while you’re at the pub. I’m a planner and even I’m slowing down.”
She reached her hand over and laid it on his. “I’m trying. Maybe after this visit I’ll feel a little better.”
“Nope,” his grandmother said. “You won’t. You won’t feel better until your son is thirty, and even then, you’re still going to wish you did things differently. Trust me, I know.”
“You did a great job, Grandma.”
His grandmother had been handing more pieces of the cut-up pancake to Maverick as they talked. “Proof is how you’re stepping up.”