Page 55 of The Doctor's Truth

“Hmm…how about a taxidermized frog? Wearing a top hat and a cane. Like the WB frog, remember?”

It takes everything within me not to smile. “Case in point.”

She presses a kiss to my cheek. Her scent lingers, though—an intoxicating hint of peach.

“You’re sweet,” she says.

“Keep that to yourself.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Otto’s small figure approach. I put a little distance between Kenzi and me, relaxing into the counter instead, and dry my hands on a dish towel.

“Hey, Otto,” I say, alerting Kenzi to his presence. “What’s up?”

He’s already tucked into his pajamas: a cozy-looking long shirt and pant set covered in rocket ships. He hangs on the back of a chair. He rocks back and forth, rocking the furniture with him—in kid language, he’s playing it cool. “Nothing. I was just seeing if you wanted to watch a show with us.”

“What’re we watching?”

He bunches his shoulders high around his ears. “Whatever.”

“Hmm. Does that mean I get to pick?”

He nods eagerly. I imagine anything I pick will probably be better than the reruns of Golden Girls Pearl has put him through.

“Okay,” I say. “Knock, knock.”

Otto perks up. “Who’s there?”

“The Doctor.”

“Doctor Who?”

“Exactly. Your education starts now. We start with season one.”

30

Kenzi

Three episodes of Dr. Who later, and Donovan and Otto are still swathed in the blue-light flicker of the television.

They’ve taken over the love seat, Donovan hunched forward, watching intently. Otto is mesmerized, his mouth partly agape. He’s tired, though, I can tell because he’s half-slouched against Donovan and, toward the end of the episode, his eyes start to droop and he cuddles the quilted blanket tighter around his little body.

I’m curled up in the adjacent lounger. I spend more time watching them than I do watching the TV.

When the credits roll, I finally break up the fun. “Alright, buds,” I say. “We should probably think about getting ready for bed.”

“One more,” they whine in unison.

I lift my eyebrows pointedly at Donovan.

Donovan seems to remember he’s an adult because he nudges Otto. “Your mom’s right—we’ve got to leave some surprises for tomorrow. C’mon. Let’s get to bed.”

Otto looks morose about it. He sighs dramatically (I know, I’m the anti-fun mom, everything is the end of the world) and tosses the quilt off himself before melting out of the love seat.

Before he goes up to his room, he stops and turns around to look at Donovan.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” Otto asks.

Donovan’s eyes flicker up to me. “Sure. If it’s okay with your mom.”

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