Page 49 of A Bond with the Dark

“Gods no! PB&J is amazing! Gauge loves them.”

Dominic chuckles and hands me a bag of Lay’s.

“So, I noticed in one of your pictures that he’s in a wheelchair. Can I ask why—if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all,” I say, finishing my bite of sandwich before continuing. “He has a rare muscle condition called Congenital Myopathy. No one knew what it was until he was a year and a half. Nearly killed him at birth.”

“And what is it exactly?” Dominic asks, the sounds of a bag of chips opening pierces the moment.

“It’s in the same family as muscular dystrophy, but it doesn’t get worse over time. He just has muscles that work differently from ours. What is five pounds to you is thirty to him.”

“So he will be able to walk one day?”

“I did some research while getting my associate’s degree. It seems the kind he has can get better with hard work. He just has to work out every day if he wants it. And if he’s anything like me, one day that fire in him will consume him and he will get what he wants.”

As I talk of my son, I cannot get over how he’s looking at me. He hangs on every word that I say and he wants to know all about me and my child.

That’s one of the hard parts about dating for me. Before, it was just me. Now that I’m back in that world, I’m dating for two. Every guy that I meet I have to do a screening of and make sure that they like kids, that they’re cool with kids, that they understand that my child will always come first.

It’s exhausting.

My ex didn’t seem to have taken the same caution of who was around Gauge at first and was just not wanting to be alone, no matter the cost.

On the other hand, I am doing everything I can to make sure that whomever I decide to bring home and introduce to him is going to treat him as though he’s theirs. That they’re going to be good to him and make sure that he’s safe and loved and never put second.

It’s why I haven’t brought anyone home to meet him yet.

No one has leveled up that far.

We talk of life and home and places as we eat the sandwiches and once they are gone, Dominic eagerly digs in the basket for something else.

“Here.” He hands me an envelope with a red seal on the front. “This is for you.”

Wondering what’s inside, I look at him questioningly.

My fingernails are just about to tear it open when he says, “Wait. First, I want you to lie back with me.”

Nothing in his eyes tells me to worry. I lie back with him and look at the sky that’s starting to show twinkling stars through the clearing clouds.

“Okay, now open it.”

As I tear the envelope open, inside is a card that says:

Be it known that star number HIP 53043 with the Celestial Address of 10 hrs. 36 min. 49.0 sec and Declination of + 52° 15’23.0” Epoch 2000, in the constellation Ursa Major shall henceforth be known by the name of

Frances Cartwright

To the one star that shines so bright in my eyes, I give you this one in the heavens.

My nose burns as tears sting my eyes. I’m blown away that someone would be so sweet as to dedicate a star to my mother.

That’s the reason he had asked Mama’s full name during our texting earlier.

He looks at me and his green eyes soften. The corners of his mouth quirk up and he reaches out, wiping a tear that stubbornly escapes with his thumb.

“On the map in there,” he replies, unfolding the accordion paper, “if you look, it shows you how to find the star.”

Looking on the map, I see the constellations that will help me find the location.

---