You're Magic

If Bronx wants juice, Bronx gets juice. If Bronx wants to go to the park, Bronx goes to the park. It's just the way Pete's parenting is. So we end up getting grape juice from the store and as soon as the Baby Boy sees a slide he's kicking his legs and telling Daddy to stop and play.

Even though we stopped for the slide his favorite is the swings. There's people with cameras and they take pictures and I'm surprised at the way Pete sits on the swings with his son and pulls me into him, holding my hands in his. It's hot outside and I don't really want to be at the playground and there's sand in my sandals. Well, maybe that's why they're called sandals. In any case, I don't want to be here but I am because I know it's making Bronx happy.

I think Pete sees that I'm not one for playgrounds because he leans his face up and kisses my mouth quickly. "You wanna get going?" His voice is low and hushed.

"Yeah."

Pete turns to Bronx who's been swinging beside us with little pushes here and there from Pete. "Hey buddy how about we get going so you can take a nap?" Bronx agrees grumpily and Pete picks him up, holding my hand. Bronx buries his face in Pete's neck and clings to his shoulder. The drive home is uneventful and we're quiet, save little comments from Bronx as he looks out the window ("Car! Bird! I'm thirsty!")

We get back to Pete's house and I bring Bronx upstairs for a nap. He's fussy at first and kicking around in my arms but once I get him into bed and tucked in he's out like a light. I sit there for a little while, just watching him. I pet his hair, letting it slip through my fingers.

I hear Pete in the kitchen downstairs and decide to see what he's up to. When I get downstairs I find him making macaroni and cheese and he's debating on whether or not to make chicken nuggets. I tell him to just make them and if the Lil Dude doesn't want them we'll eat them anyway. He tells me I'm so smart and kisses just below my ear before he takes out a cookie sheet.

I watch Pete cooking and it's really adorable and funny at the same time. Especially when he burns himself on the oven and mutters swears under his breath. It's kind of a turn on, too.

Around five we hear Bronx fussing upstairs calling for Daddy and Evie. Pete's trying to flip over the dinosaur chicken nuggets and put them back into the oven, but each time he picks the next one up he burns himself and mutters "Fuck,". He's not a bright one in some ways.

"I'll get him," I tell Pete, kissing his neck as I walk past him. For some reason whenever I come into contact with his bare skin I get a little bit of that feeling you feel when you're at the drop the biggest roller coaster ever. That split second where you feel like you're on top of the world and then you fall.

I get upstairs and open the door to Bronx's room. "Hush, Baby Boy," I hum, rocking him on my hip. "Did you have a good sleep?"

"I want juice." He's pouting at me, rubbing his face. I smile and kiss his forehead. Once we're downstairs in the kitchen, Pete's not there but at the door because Patrick's just gotten here to watch Bronx. I pick up Bronx's cup from the fridge, filled with half grape juice and half water.

"Here, baby." I put it in his hands and he drinks it down in no time. "More." He shakes the cup at me. "More, more, more."

"How about a please?" I take the cup from his little hand. It's blue plastic with Buzz Lightyear on it.

"Please?" He sighs impatiently.

"Your father sure didn't teach you manners," I mutter under my breath, sitting him in a chair at the counter. As I fill the cup Pete calls to me.

"Evelyn Patrick's hear to watch Bronx. We need to leave in a half hour!"

"All right. Want me to feed this one?" I ask, handing Bronx his cup.

"Yeah, sure." Pete and Patrick are in the living room and I can tell he's distracted by whatever they're talking about

I give Bronx some macaroni and cheese and two T-rex chicken nuggets and two triceratops ones. He smiles and makes them play with each other and he has this little toothy grin across his face, just like Pete would have. I reach out and curl his hair around my fingers and let it fall through my fingers. "Your daddy is very cool," I tell him. "He's my very best friend and I love him very, very, much. He's a really great person." My voice is quiet and my eyes are burning a little bit from the salt in the tears welled up in them, but I'm smiling. "He loves you and cares about you so much. More than anything else in the world. I'm going to miss him while I'm gone."

"Where you going?" Bronx looks up at me as he bites the head off of a t-rex and he's so innocent and cute.

"Back to my own house in New York. You lived there when you were a baby."

"I AM a baby!" He giggles.

"When you were a little baby. Your mommy was working there."

"You know my mommy?" He raises his eyebrows at me.

"Yes I do. I haven't talked to her in a very long time, though. But that's a story for when you're older, Baby Boy."

He doesn't say anything then. I give him some baby carrots to snack on after he finishes the macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets and I give him some milk. I stand behind him and hug his little body to me. "I'm gonna miss you." I say into his hair.

"I'm miss you too, Evie." The sentence is simple but it's enough to break me down and now I'm crying and trying to wipe my eyes without him noticing. Pete calls me then, even though he and Patrick are walking into the kitchen. I let go of Bronx and bury my face into Pete's shoulder. He doesn't say anything and neither does Patrick, but they don't need to. Pete's hand is resting on the back of my neck and I pull away from him for a minute. I give him a little smile before pushing him away from me to pick up his son.

"I'll miss you, Baby Boy. But don't worry. I'll come back. I'll come back real soon. And until then you be good." I hug him to me tight and his arms are around my neck and his nose is buried in my collar bone. I hand him to Pete before I hug Patrick to me.

He kisses my forehead before telling me Pete told him everything. I want to tell Pete "Fuck you, man," but I don't because I know it'll ruin the moment and set a bad example for the small child in the room. I roll my eyes instead and kiss his cheek. Pete tells Bronx to be good and he'll be back in a little while and then he takes my hand in his.

Patrick's holding Bronx on his hip and I can't help but smile because they're both so cute looking. Pete's thumb is running along the back of my hand and he's sort of pulling me to the door. Before he can reach for the doorknob I push him against the dark mahogany and kiss along his face to his mouth. "I never wanted it to be like this," he tells me. "I never wanted it to not be you."

I don't tell him I know this. I don't tell him I felt that way too, even if it's the truth. I don't tell him anything. It's one of those situations where I can never be sure if it's Pete telling what he thinks or Pete telling what he thinks is right to say. Usually I can tell, but our whole us situation is a little tricky in itself so the lines are a little blurred right now.

Pete picks up my suitcase and I tell Patrick and Bronx bye again before we're out the door. And maybe this should be really sad-- it is really sad-- but there's this little, minuscule piece of me that is telling me that this is okay. That leaving is okay because I know I'm coming back.