Chapter 2
Bubble Wrap — Not Just for Stemware…
Ben
“Forget it. We’re not doing this,” I mutter, staring around the schoolyard at Oceanview Elementary—the same school my brother and I went to when we were growing up.
It’s a great school. Very welcoming. Fun.
Engaging. All the things. It’s a bright sunny September morning, and there are happy children running around everywhere.
I know it’s a safe place for my son, Henry. And yet… “Yeah, no way. Let’s go.”
“What do you mean, let’s go?” Dominic asks, yawning. He’s normally not up this early, but he wanted to tag along for Henry’s first day of school. “We have to do this. If we don't, some nasty truant officer is eventually going to come by the house and take Henry away from us.”
Even though he is five and a half, objectively speaking, my son looks so much smaller than the other children his age as they all climb around on the playground equipment like they came out of the womb doing parkour.
I didn't expect it to hit me this hard, but the moment we arrived at Oceanview, it was like having an anvil dropped on my head in one of those old Bugs Bunny cartoons—sudden, without any warning, and shockingly painful.
“I'm not saying he shouldn't be educated.
I mean, obviously I believe in education, but what if …
and I'm just spit balling here … but what if you homeschool him for the next thirteen years?” I give my brother an open-mouthed smile as though it is the most brilliant idea in the history of ideas.
“Ben, I love you and I love Henry. You know how much I love Henry,” Dom says to me. “But it's time. He needs to be around other children.”
“Other children are little assholes, and you, of all people, know it,” I say pointedly.
The ‘90s schoolyard wasn't nearly as accepting of gay students as today's is. “And look at him,” I say, gesturing to my little peanut as he stands adjacent to the playground equipment looking shy. He’s in the school uniform of a white golf shirt and blue shorts, and his backpack seems to take up three quarters of his body.
My son, like me, has something the pediatrician calls a constitutional growth delay—meaning he's extra small for his age and will likely remain so until he hits puberty, which unfortunately for him isn't going to happen until he's at least sixteen. After that, however, he should wind up being over six feet like his old man. But even though I know this, and I know mentally and socially he’s as ready for school as the other kiddos, he still looks far too little to be here. “He’s clearly not ready for this. Look at how tiny he is,” I say, my heart breaking at the thought of leaving him at this awful place.
“That backpack comes down to his knees.”
“He'll be fine. I promise you.”
Henry seems to give up on the idea of making new friends and turns back to my brother and me, adjusting his little round red glasses while he runs to us, his short legs pumping furiously.
Dom and I both crouch down at the exact same moment and I say, “What's up, buddy?”
He shrugs his right shoulder. “Nothing. I just thought I'd stand over here for a while.”
“Feeling nervous about your first day of school?” I ask, taking his glasses off and blowing hot air on them. I lift the bottom of my T-shirt and start wiping the lenses, even though I did this right before we left for school. “You know, we could always—”
“Nope, we can’t,” Dominic says in a warning tone. “Listen, buddy, everybody feels nervous on their first day of school, but out there on that playground is potentially one of the best friends you’ll ever make in your whole life.”
“Really?” Henry asks, squinting up at my brother.
Dominic gives him a firm nod. “Absolutely. If not your best friend for life, certainly a friend you'll have for a very long time.” He tilts his head, looking suddenly less sure. “Well, probably.”
Henry narrows his eyes and purses his lips. “I don't know. What if none of the other kids like me?”
I place his glasses back on his face and do my best to offer him a reassuring smile. “Not possible because you are the most likable person I know—you’re kind, you’re caring, and you’re super fun.”
Behind Henry, I spot a woman and a little boy approaching us.
“Oooh, incoming at 2 o'clock,” Dominic says, sounding far too excited about this unwelcome development.
She's holding the hand of a boy who looks like he could be two years older than Henry, but I know isn't. The woman offers us a wave, then wraps a finger through a lock of her long, dark hair and gives it a twirl.
Dom and I both stand up to greet them. Out of the side of my mouth, I mutter, “You gotta help me out here, Dominic.”
“I will, just not the way you think,” he says, his words rushing together.
She zeros in on Henry, which I’ve noticed is the signature single-mum move. “Hi, sweetie, I remember you from the orientation day but I forgot your name.”
Henry smiles up at her. “I'm Henry John James.”
She grins at him like he is the most adorable thing she's ever seen—which is probably true because my son literally is the cutest child to ever exist and I am not being subjective here.
It's a fact. He's got his mother's bright blue eyes, my wavy dark brown hair, and with the glasses? Irresistibly cute.
“I'm Lacey and this is my son, Jax,” she says, bending down to shake Henry's outstretched hand and simultaneously offering Dominic and me a view down her V-neck which neither of us will enjoy. Him because breasts are the last thing on his mind, and me because breasts should absolutely be the last thing on my mind too. She straightens up and offers us a warm smile. “Jax, why don’t you take Henry over to the slide?”
Jax shrugs at Henry. “Wanna go?”
“Okay,” Henry says. The two kids start off, but are stopped by Lacey’s voice. “Wait boys! You'll want to leave your backpacks with us.”
They shed their bags and take off, leaving me standing here with my heart being ripped out of my chest.
She smiles again at us. “Trust me, it gets easier. I was pretty emotional when my first started school too. But by the third one, you’re practically pushing them out the door.”
“Emotional? What do you mean?” I ask. “I'm fine.” My stupid voice cracks on the word ‘fine,’ utterly betraying me.
She gives me a knowing look and touches my forearm. “It's okay to not be okay.”
It's okay to not be okay? Obviously I know that. It’s just not okay to show it. “Thanks.”
I watch as Henry climbs to the top of the slide a little quicker than I would like, and I have to resist the urge to run over in case he falls. Where is their teacher? Shouldn’t she be out here by now? I glance at my watch, only to realize there are still ten minutes until the bell rings.
Lacey smiles at Dom. “I remember you from orientation,” she says, her eyes flicking over to me. “But not you.”
“I had to work,” I answer.
“What do you do?” she asks, still twirling her hair. What is she hoping to accomplish with the twirling? To end up with one weird ringlet by the end of the day?
Dominic says, “He owns a construction company,” at the same time that I say, “I’m a carpenter.”
She ignores him and her eyes light up. “Like Jesus?!”
“Well, there are a few differences. I don’t have any apostles and you can’t wear sandals on a job site these days.”
She laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Oh my, the other mums are going to love you. Both of you, actually,” she says. “It's not often that we get two such handsome dads at the playground.”
“Thanks,” I say, happy to go along with the misunderstanding.
I have no interest in getting involved with anyone, so this will hopefully mean all the other single mums will rule me out.
Not that I assume there will be a plethora of single mums wanting to get with me.
But I like to keep things simple. Uncomplicated. Easy.
“We’re brothers,” Dominic tells her. I shoot him a dirty look which he ignores.
Great. Based on her expression, that bit of intel was more exciting than me being a modern-day Jesus. “Brothers?”
“Yes, Ben here is Henry's father and I’m his uncle, Dominic.”
She studies us for a second. “I can definitely see the resemblance now. And what about Henry's mother? Is she at work today?”
“That would be hard to say,” I tell her. “She isn't exactly in the picture anymore.”
Her mouth curves down as if she’s very sad to hear this, but, unless I’m mistaken, her eyes are dancing with excitement. “Well, that's a shame. I mean, unless it isn't a shame. Maybe he's better off without her?”
“In this case, I'm afraid so,” Dominic says. “The first requirement of a good parent is wanting to be there.”
“Definitely,” she says with a little laugh. “Parenting is hard enough, even when you do want the little rascals.”
An awkward silence develops and we all naturally turn our gazes to the playground to avoid the obvious—which is that we have nothing in common other than our sons going to school together.
After a minute, Lacey says, “Oh! You should bring Henry over for a playdate some afternoon. We’ve got a pool in our backyard, and a trampoline. They’ll have a ball.”
Well, we’ve got an ocean in our backyard, so…
I smile vaguely. “That sounds really fun.” Not going to happen though. Not sometime soon. Not ever.
The sound of a child wailing comes from the playground and all three of our heads snap to attention to locate the source.
It's Jax, who is on the ground holding his shin.
Lacey lets out a sigh. “Here we go,” she says.
“He's a little dramatic. He gets that from his father, which is one of the many reasons we’re not together anymore.”
As soon as she walks away, I give Dominic a dirty look which he exchanges for an innocent one. “What?”
“Would it have killed you to let these people think we’re a couple?”