Page 75 of Mended Hearts

“I give you five seconds.” I cock a brow, and he further explains. “Five seconds to see he’s your clone.”

I shake my head and pat his back as I walk past. I grab a bowl from the counter and a spoon from the drawer and take a seat next to Dylan. Without taking his eyes off the game, he slides the Fruit Loops my way. It’s not Fruity Pebbles, but beggars can’t be choosers. After I fill my bowl, he scoots the milk over too. I feel like I should say thanks, but then again, this seems to be some sort of silent bond we’re sharing, and I’d rather not jack that up.

I take a bite, then glance over. Take a bite, then glance over. Take a bite, check out the game, then glance over. I’m trying not to stare. I’m trying not to sit here and be overcome with emotions when it’s all I want to do. I try to focus on the game, to let it take over this overwhelming and unfamiliar sensation that’s settled in. With each bite I take, the less I look over at my son, and the more I start to focus on the game. Soon I’m shouting at the TV just like he is.

“What are you, blind?”

“The ball was clearly in his glove. It didn’t hit the ground first.”

“That pitch was far too low to be a strike.”

“Who rigged this game?”

“Who’s winning?” Lynsie asks, making her way to the coffee.

“Braves.” I glance back and smile.

“Yeah, Aunt Lyns. The Braves. Best team ever. Salazar is smoking crack if he thinks his Indians are going to win.” I love hearing how easy it is for him to refer to Lynsie as his aunt. I can only wonder what he’ll call me. I don’t want to force him into anything. It has to be of his own accord.

“Hey, bud, you wanna go grab some real breakfast?” I look over at my boy and just can’t believe how blessed I am to call him mine. I want to grab him and pull him onto my lap, give him the biggest bear hug. But I also want the kid to like me.

“Sure. Under one condition.” He looks me straight in the face, then cocks a brow to his hairline. I have to do everything in my power to keep a straight face. “Don’t call me bud ever again.”

I half laugh, half choke, unsure how I should react.

“Told ya, dude,” Dax says from the kitchen, shaking his head.

“Then what do you want me to call you?” I stand and we make our way to the front door.

“Dylan’s fine. Or son,” he says matter-of-factly before he bends over to slide his sneakers on, then runs outside.

“Yours,” Dax whispers from behind like some creeper. He’s finding this far too amusing.

I jump the short distance off the porch and watch Dylan circle around my Blazer.

“This is badass, Dad,” he says with such adoration.

I want to laugh and scold him all at once, realizing the conundrum of being a parent.

Then it hits me…

He called medad. And I don’t know if now is the proper time for that bear hug or to cry. Instead, I decide not to make a big deal over it even though it means everything to me.

We pull into Tootie Fruitie’s and I’m thankful the parking lot is empty.

“Oh, this is the place Mom and Grandma brought me to the first time we came here.” He yanks the front door open. Not a shy bone in his body.

“Did you like it?” I ask.

“Well, I wasn’t very hungry, so Ma ordered me your specialty.” He scrunches his nose. I want to ask him what it was, but I’m too stuck on the fact he refers to Echo as Ma.

As we wait for our food, I use the time for us to figure some things out. I don’t want to make any decisions without his input.

“There seems to be a lot going on right now. How are you holding up?”

He shrugs, coloring a picture with his kid’s menu crayons. “I’m pretty resilient. I just want my mom to be happy.” His admission pulls at my heartstrings. That’s my selfless kid. “But I think she’d be happy here around all the people who love her. It’s basically just been me and her.”

“And you’re okay if that changes?” I ask, intently watching him.

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