Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“Alright. You missed ice cream. Speaking of which, since I’m going home with you in the big house, how about ice cream for dinner?” I take the turn that takes us closer to the apartment complex where we all live, albeit separately.
“We can. I’ve got a lot of news to tell you. The big house is sold. I’m kind of a neighbor to you and your mom now.” I’m unprepared for the happy squeal he lets out or the dance moves he’s doing in his booster sit, another one of those things that hits you in the solar plexus, telling you that you’re more of a fuckup than you already knew.
“This is the best day ever. Now I can eat Mom’s dinner and have dessert with you.” Typical boy, thinking about food non-stop.
“How about we talk to Mom about that first before you make plans, okay?” I pull into the apartment complex, turning away from Tyra’s place until we make it to mine. The second I’m parked, Von is unbuckling his seatbelt, standing up, and waiting for me to open the door. I remember the time when Tyra walked into my then home office with the iPad in hand, showing me what she found on Instalook. A video on child car locks so no little one could pull the handle open and step into traffic even after you parked and unlocked the doors. From that moment on, we did it. Von is so used to it that he thinks nothing of it.
“Okay, but I like my idea, too,” Von replies while I open his door for him.
“It is a pretty great idea. Maybe let the adults talk about it first. Want a ride?” I ask him.
“Of course, I do. Wow, Dad, you really did move.” I turn around, squatting until he’s situated, little sticky boy hands clasping around my neck, legs positioning themselves around my waist, my arms hooking underneath the back of his knees so he doesn’t slide down.
“Yep, hate to say it, though, bud. You’re either stuck sleeping in bed with me, or I’m on the couch, whichever you prefer.” I don’t need much, and since Von is with Tyra more, the need for a two-bedroom wasn’t a necessity, plus I’d be on a waiting list for up to six months. No fucking way was I letting another day, let alone a week or month, pass us by again.
“We can share as long as you promise not to snore.” Von makes an overexaggerated snoring noise. I use my foot to kick the door shut, locking it with my keys that are still in my hand, and walk the few steps to my door.
“I don’t snore. It’s you who snores.” I tap his bottom with one hand, letting him know it’s time to slide down or move to the front. He chooses to land on his own two feet, so I can unlock the door.
“No way, José.” He’s well beyond his years in the speech department, so smart that I often worry Von’s not getting enough time as a kid, and while he plays like most do, loving the outside, he’s also one to sit down to watch a documentary about animals, ask for his iPad to do his own research, and devour it whole.
“Okay, maybe I snore, just a little,” I teasingly say. Von steps inside, taking in the sparse place. In the beginning, when the keys of this place were handed to me, I didn’t care about furniture or anything. The only worry I had was repairing the damaged pieces I’d broken. Now that Von’s here, maybe I should add a few things to make the sterile environment a home.
“Dad, you snore, a lot.” He walks to the fridge, opens the door, and looks inside. “Wow, there’s even food here. No take-out?” I roll my eyes. Even in the big house I had food. Sure, we’d do fast food mostly because I was too tired to worry about dinner.
“Nope. Want something while we sit and talk?” I offer, pulling out a barstool for him to hop on, then doing the same for myself.
“I’m okay.” Here goes nothing.
“I owe you an apology. Before your mom and I split up, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. I thought working and buying the big house we had was the most important thing. I lost my way, and in doing so, I lost you and your mom.” I take a deep breath when I see Von’s upper lip quiver from rehashing the story. It tears at me. I pick his little body up, place him on my lap, and wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry, Von, so sorry that I did that to you. I promise that it won’t ever happen again.” My own eyes tear up when my son’s body starts to shake. The only thing I can do is hold him, letting him get it all out. “You want me to call Mom, bud?” I kiss the top of his head. The grip around my neck tightens. He shakes his head in the crook of my neck, and I do the same, bringing my son closer, attempting not to cry myself, for my son, for Tyra, and dammit, for myself.