Page 2 of Just a Heartbeat Away

The word was out of the jar and it was so big, looming and leering, that he knew he’d never get it back in. That word was, apparently, his new asshole of a best friend. His life partner now.

And he fucking deserved it. He’d let his kid come to school with no lunch. Yesterday’s clothes. Dirty hair just like his daddy.

“Fuck,” he muttered into the dry hands that he’d dragged up to cover his horrified expression.

“I don’t know what you’re going through, Mr. Dorner, no one can. But I’ve lost people in my family, and... I know what it feels like to spin off into nothing.”

He glanced up. Was that what he was doing? Spinning into nothing? God. Sure felt like it.

“There were some things that really helped me get my feet back on the ground, and I made one of them for you.” She slid a piece of paper over to him and it was a shocking white to his stinging eyes. A bright block of accusation sitting there over top of the spirals of green and purple crayon on the tabletop.

Neglect.

It was a checklist. All the things he needed to do every day to take care of his son. A sharp gasp of shame had Sebastian coughing into his elbow. “What’s this?” He already knew.

“Just something to help you keep everything straight.” She leaned over and tapped firmly at each bullet point. “Three square meals with a snack after school. There should be at least one fruit and one vegetable at each meal. Even breakfast. Which, you know, breakfast vegetables are tricky for everyone so don’t worry about that so much. But definitely for lunch. He also needs a main course and a little side. Something to drink, too. I made a list of good options here, all things you can pick up at the grocery store. Or even have delivered. Now, do you use a laundromat? Or a washer and dryer at home?”

He just stared at her.

She plunged on. “Well, I included the number for a pickup/drop-off laundry service. I thought it would be a relief for a little while not to have to worry about it. They bring it back folded and everything. For bathing, these are some signs that your kid is ready to bathe by himself.” She handed him a pamphlet. “Although I don’t think Matty is quite there yet, so you should still be doing a lot of it for him.”

He sat there, numb and dumb, while she went through each point. There really was a remarkable lack of judgment in her tone.

He steepled his hands over his nose and mouth and leaned his elbows forward on his knees, so awkwardly tall next to the small table. “I can’t even imagine what you must think of me right now.”

She sighed and leaned back. “Mr. Dorner, you want to know what I think? I think that life is hard. And even harder when you’ve just lost someone. I also think that sometimes it helps for somebody to tell you what to do next. And this—” she tapped the checklist “—is what you need to do next.”

“MATTY!” SEBASTIANCALLEDdown the hallway. “Carrots or zucchini?”

“What?” His four-year-old mini-me appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Do you want carrots or zucchini in your lunch today?” It had been two months since his meeting with Miss DeRosa—he’d checked with Matty on her name—and Sebastian was really hoping that the rusty, cranking feeling in his chest was a sign that the gears were starting to turn. He slapped a dishtowel over his shoulder, swigged lukewarm coffee, and ignored the rib-deep exhaustion that had weighted him to the bed for an extra fifteen minutes that morning.

“I think you have to cook zucchini, Daddy.”

“Nah,” Sebastian said as he eyeballed the vegetable sticks he’d shoved into a Ziploc. “It’s like cucumber.” He snapped a quick bite of one of the extra zucchini sticks he’d just sliced and immediately spat it into the sink. “Yup. You’re right. Carrots it is.”

He slid the final item into the green cloth lunchbox and turned to his son. Sebastian’s brow furrowed.

“You’re in shorts.”

“So?” Matty puckered his blunt little face in a look that Sebastian recognized very well at this point.

“So, it’s February in New York.” He put the exact same expression on his own face.

“Fine. Pants.” Matty turned but quickly jumped back around. “But no mittens. Nonnegotiable!”

From his little four-year-old mouth the word came out much closer to “nah-nuh-goshe-bo.” Nonnegotiables were something that Sebastian and Matty had been talking a lot about over the last two months. It was a running list they kept. Things that they couldn’t argue over, no matter what.

Sebastian admitted that maybe they weren’t using the word completely right, but still, he liked the list.

Daddy home for dinner, bath and bedtime. Nonnegotiable.

Matty eats one green thing every day. Nonnegotiable.

We don’t talk about getting a dog again until Matty’s birthday. Nonnegotiable.

It was a good list. And the first thing had been the easiest to keep up with. Two months ago, Sebastian had walked out of Matty’s classroom and called his architecture firm. He was cashing in on the vacation he’d stored up over the last decade. It would be all used up fairly soon, and Sebastian wasn’t completely sure what he was going to do next, but for now, the only thing he was worrying about was Miss DeRosa’s checklist.

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