Chapter 8 Maddie #2
There certainly is a lot going on here. When I was a kid there was a metal swing set, a set of monkey bars, and an old painted metal merry-go-round.
And of course there was also a termite-eaten picnic table where my parents used to sip coffee out of a thermos while I yelled at them to watch me swing or spin or hang upside-down.
Now there’s a newer swing set with a cute little baby swing and a swinging platform that must be for a wheelchair.
There are also horses and dinosaurs on springs that you can ride, a log cabin with a front and back door and windows, and a firetruck with climbing stuff all over it.
The chewed-up picnic table has been replaced with two new ones that look to be made of cedar or something else that must be less delicious to bugs because they’re in great shape.
Only the metal merry-go-round remains from my memory. I can’t help smiling at the sight.
The smell here is familiar too. Even in the bitter cold, I’m catching the hint of damp earth that always reminded me of my great-grandmother’s blueberry patch.
“Swings,” Dylan suddenly blurts out before flying toward the swing set at an impressive speed.
I’m worried that it might be slippery from the rain, but the whole place is fenced in and filled with wood chips, so I guess if he falls he won’t get hurt.
I follow after him, feeling grateful for my warm new footwear, and sort of wishing that I’d worn my new coat out of the store too.
Dylan gets on a swing and starts pumping his little legs. It’s going to take forever for him to get into the air that way, but it’s nice to see a little kid trying to do it on his own.
I watch him get a little higher and then a little more.
“Want a push?” I ask him.
“Yes!” he sings out.
I go behind him and give him a gentle nudge.
“Higher, Maddie,” he yells.
I grab the seat and back up slowly, bit by bit, building suspense, and when he laughs, the sound is like a waterfall of joy.
Finally, I swing him forward with all my might and move quickly out of the way. He squeals with happiness and I can’t help laughing myself.
“I’m going to the moon,” he yells. “I’m going to the sun.”
He slows down and I’m about to offer him another push when he launches himself fearlessly off the swing, landing hard on both feet, and dashes toward the little cabin.
I trail after him, giving him a little space to explore on his own. The swings feel like a hanging out place, but that little house might be more fun to imagine on his own.
While I’m watching him peek out all the windows, I hear someone open the gate.
I turn, hoping it’s another kid his age to play with, but it’s Jake.
“I dropped our bags in the car,” he says by way of greeting.
“Do you need to go right away?” I ask him.
Dylan peeks his head out the back door of the cabin, chuckling to himself, and then ducks back inside.
“We can stay for a minute,” Jake says, his expression softening.
Dylan flies out the front door of the cabin and goes straight to the firetruck, climbing up the ladder to explore the top.
“He’s such a happy kid,” I say, my eyes still on Dylan. “You’re doing a great job with him.”
I’m met with only silence, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped somehow.
“His mom mostly took care of him,” Jake says after a moment. “If I’m being honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
His deep voice is a little raw, and it hits me that it’s not a self-deprecating statement. He’s being real with me.
I steal a glance at him, but his eyes are on Dylan. Maybe that makes it easier to open up.
“Your wife isn’t around?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but hoping it’s divorce, not death.
“You didn’t look me up on the internet before you took this job?” he asks, without turning to me.
“Should I have?” I ask, suddenly feeling a little nervous.
“I’m not a serial killer,” he says with a wry smile, finally turning to me. “Just a guy who made a couple of bad business decisions.”
“Can you push me on the merry-go-round?” Dylan suddenly yells, running up to us before I can think of any follow-up questions.
Not that it would really be appropriate for me to ask. Besides which, whatever decisions Jake made, he doesn’t exactly seem to be hurting for money.
Maybe it’s just that being in charge of something really big is a challenge. My dad definitely struggled with it. He was always an artist at heart. He never meant to be the owner of a massive global business.
“Of course I’ll push you,” I tell Dylan.
He blasts off for the merry-go-round and I trail after him.
Jake comes with us, and I’m not sure why, but that makes me really happy.
Dylan hops right up onto the metal circle and grabs onto one of the rails.
“Get on, get on,” he yells to his dad.
“It’s not really for grown-ups,” Jake says, frowning.
I grab a rail and start running in a circle, then let go and watch as Dylan clings on, an expression of joy and terror on his little face. I remember that feeling from when I used to ride this thing.
When it starts to slow down he laughs and laughs.
“That was so fast,” he pants. “It’s so fast. Get on, Maddie.”
He’s looking at me with so much hope that I find myself clambering on without a second thought.
“Yay,” Dylan yells. “Now you push us, Dad.”
Jake smiles grimly and grabs the rail.
Suddenly, I’m aware of the real significance of his broad shoulders and big arms.
“Hold on tight, Dylan.” I have just enough time to warn the little fellow before Jake has the merry-go-round flying so fast it feels like it might lift off and launch us into space.
“Wheeeeeeeeee,” Dylan yells, like a kid in a cartoon.
As we flash past Jake, I can see that he’s wearing a crooked smile, and for the second time in ten minutes, I feel like I’m seeing the real man instead of the mask.
My stomach twists and I feel a little lightheaded.
And I’m not entirely sure it’s because of the merry-go-round.