Page 18 of Little Bedtime Snack

“I’m not sleeping. It’s not the same without you here.”

And I knew better. All it was going to do was make him sad. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

But he tried, which only made me feel guiltier.

“How about I call you after my last meeting, and you can listen to me tell a story as you fall asleep?”

“I... I like that, Daddy. I’d like that a lot.”

And when the time came, I did enjoy it. But it didn’t help me fall asleep. Not even the bottles of milk he pumped for me did that.

It wasn’t the same as having him there.

The next day, I did feel slightly better. After work, I drove through and got chicken nuggies, thinking maybe I’d be Little for the night.

Only…

As I reached my door, there was someone there in a courier outfit, but one I didn’t recognize. I had no idea who they were or if they were legit, and it set me on edge.

“Are you Eli?”

I nodded and then second-guessed if I should’ve replied.

“I have a package for you that needs signing.” By package he meant a cardboard envelope.

“Okay—oh, sorry.” I didn’t take any steps closer.

“No. I’m sorry. I’m new at this. I should have started with, ‘I’m from Armand Courier Service, and I just deliver packages. Not like subpoenas or anything.’”

That took me aback. If that was how he had to start every day, I couldn’t imagine what his job must look like. It had me less on edge.

I signed for it and watched him walk away before I went inside with my food, ready to collapse and be a slug.

But before I had the door shut completely, my phone was ringing.

It was Daddy.

“Hi.” Daddy had called me. Already, my night was looking up.

“I got a notification. You got my present?”

“This is from you? A present.” That was a thousand times better than anything that had gone through my mind, especially after the whole subpoena comment.

“Yeah, I thought you might like it.”

I dropped the food where it was and plopped onto the floor, criss-cross applesauce, to open it—not willing to wait long enough to even get fully into the room.

Inside was a plane ticket.

“You…you got me a ticket to come be with you?” And first class too.

“My boy needs to sleep.”

“But I can’t—I have to work tomorrow.” And I couldn’t be fired, even if I wanted this trip more than anything.

“You don’t, though.”

“My boss disagrees.” Stupid work.

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