Page 13 of Trick of Light

Rod wished his daughter good luck and headed for Felix’s daycare, where a woman in her fifties oversaw the play, nutrition, and development of anywhere between twelve and fifteen toddlers. Rod knocked on the door and listened to the swarm of them—all of them crying out or laughing or a little bit of both. The daycare worker opened up to reveal a face covered in bright stickers. She looked exhausted but happy.

“Felix!” she called. “Your grandpa is here!”

Rod stepped into the foyer as Felix scrambled away from his blocks and wiped his hands on his shorts. “I have to go!” he reported to his toddler friends. “Grandpa is here!”

Rod’s heart swelled as he took Felix’s hand and led him to his truck. Without prompting, Felix launched into a story about daycare, something that Rod couldn’t fully follow. He and Renee had often joked that Felix would be a storyteller one day, that he had the charisma to act. “His father certainly knows how to tell stories,” Renee joked, rolling her eyes. Their romance had been off at the time.

Rod buckled Felix into the back seat of his truck, where he kept a car seat. Although Rod had initially planned to make himself pork chops tonight, he opted instead to stop at the store for hot dogs, avocados, and fresh fruit. Maybe if he dressed up the avocados a bit, he could get Felix to eat a few nutrients. It was worth a try.

The grocery store was frantic. It seemed that everyone—from tourists to locals—needed supplies. Rod and Felix waited in the back of the line for the next available cashier. Felix was seated in the little chair of the grocery cart. Spontaneously, he yawned, and his eyelids closed for a full five seconds. He touched his face and rubbed his cheeks. As he moved, he twisted his arm to show a bright yellow and green bruise that went from his wrist to his elbow. Rod’s heart seized.

“What’s that, buddy?” Rod asked, touching the bruise with the tip of his finger.

Felix hissed and tugged his arm away. As he did, his T-shirt was pulled up to show off another similarly colored bruise near his belly button.

Rod stared at his gorgeous grandson, genuinely shocked. He’d known Felix to have bruises before, of course. Toddlers were in a perpetual state of falling over. But these bruises were enormous.

“What happened to your arm and stomach, buddy?” Rod asked quietly as they inched forward in line.

“Nothing!” Felix said.

But something felt off to Rod. He couldn’t shake it. After he paid for the groceries and tucked Felix back into his car seat, he swirled angrily, thinking about Vinny—that horrible man. Even as a teenager, he’d been massive, with hands the size of big dinner plates and bulging muscles. Rod had never known Vinny to take a hand to Renee. But if he had, would Renee have said anything?

There was so little Rod knew about Renee and Vinny’s relationship. As Renee’s only parent, he’d tried to involve himself and protect her. But by the time she was sixteen, she’d pushed against him and carried her own secrets. Rod’s therapist at the time had said it was “healthy.” They needed space.

Rod carried Felix inside and set him up in front of the television. His heartbeat felt overly powerful, pumping blood to his fingers and toes. All he wanted to do was check Felix for more bruises. He needed to know how drastic this was. But Felix seemed happy, dancing in front of the television as brightly colored characters did the same on-screen.

How could anyone hurt Felix? How could anyone take a hand to this perfect little boy?

Frustrated, Rod paced from the kitchen to the living room and back again. He practiced what he would say to Renee when she arrived. Renee didn’t take kindly to his hostility toward Vinny, so he needed to be delicate. But how delicate could he possibly be when he was sure that idiot had hurt his grandson?

Renee arrived at eight that night. She was flushed and uneasy, collapsing in front of the television as Rod poured her a glass of water. He was uninterested in the specifics of what had gone wrong at work today, but he pretended to listen, bobbing his head. Felix was already asleep, which was rare for him. He normally tried to stay awake as long as he could. Was it because Vinny had kept him awake last night?

“What’s up?” Renee asked, furrowing her brow. “You’re acting weird.”

Rod palmed the back of his neck. Despite his hours of internal practicing, he exclaimed, “What is that idiot boyfriend of yours doing to Felix?”

Immediately, he knew he’d messed up.

Renee jumped to her feet. “What are you talking about?”

Rod gestured vaguely upstairs, where Felix slept. “He’s covered in bruises, Renee. You must have seen them.”

“I haven’t had him in a few days,” Renee said.

“Exactly! That’s why I think it’s Vinny’s fault.” Rod flared his nostrils. “That kid never should have been a father. You never should have let him in.”

Renee closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She looked far older than her twenty-four years. Rod thrummed with regret. But what else was he supposed to do? He had to protect Felix!

“Dad, listen,” Renee began, “I know you don’t know Vinny well. And I know I don’t always paint him in the best of lights. But he’s a great father. A brilliant father. He would never do anything to Felix.”

“You have to look at these bruises. They’re covering him.”

Renee raised her chin to look at the ceiling. “I don’t want to wake him up.” Getting him to sleep was often a debacle, requiring hours of singing, reading, and bargaining.

“He’s exhausted tonight,” Rod agreed. “I don’t know what to think of it.”

“He’s three years old,” Renee offered, sitting back down and crossing her ankles. “He bumps into stuff. He falls. I know you love him, Dad. And he loves you. So much!” She sighed. “Just promise me you won’t blame Vinny for every scrape and bruise. We’re all in this together. We’re all trying to raise Felix right.”

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