Page 3 of Officer Gabriel

For a moment, he hesitates, his eyes drifting away as if searching for a memory just out of reach. But then Gabriel shrugs, the gesture betraying a mix of resignation and acceptance. "Honestly? I don't know. She disappeared one day when he was two years old. We went to the zoo, a wild adventure filled with laughter and excitement, and when we came back, she was just... gone. I haven't seen her since."

The story spills out in a cold tone, almost devoid of emotion. Gabriel doesn’t reveal whether he loved her or how her absence has shaped him. He doesn’t share what Damon might have said about her, or if the little boy even remembers the mother he lost. It’s a painful silence that hangs between us, and I feel like an outsider to their shared grief, which is both poignant and understandable.

"Thanks for coming over last night at the last minute, by the way," he abruptly changes the subject, as if seeking refuge from the heaviness of the previous topic. "I know you didn’t know me or anything, and you probably had better things to do, but I really appreciate it. It seems like Damon had a good time."

With that, we slip back into the light and easy way of handling things that feels so much safer. "He's a cool kid, just like you said he was," I reply, a smile creeping onto my face, grateful for this shift in mood.

Silence settles in, wrapping around us like a cozy blanket, but I can sense that my time here is coming to an end. "Well, I think I’ll head out," I say, the words tinged with reluctance as I prepare to leave this moment behind.

"Wait!" Gabriel calls out, his voice cutting through the air as he stops me in my tracks. He turns off the kitchen sink, the soft sound of water ceasing as he reaches for a towel, dryinghis hands with a quick, practiced motion. "I don't know what your plans are, but I was hoping you might be interested in babysitting on the nights that I work. I've had rotten luck with sitters, probably because they’re mostly college girls who are more focused on their social lives than on my son. But you seem like you know what you’re doing, and you genuinely like kids. Damon sure likes you, and, well, so do I."

His words catch me off guard, leaving a blush to bloom on my cheeks. The way he looks at me makes my heart flutter, and while I'm not entirely sure how he meant that last part, I can't help but hope I’ve interpreted it correctly.

"Usually, I work Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights from 7:00 pm to 7:00 am," he continues, his voice steady as he outlines the details. "You’d really only have to entertain him for an hour or so before bedtime." He rambles on about the pay, assuring me that he understands I probably have a life of my own. "The weekends are always difficult for the college girls; they have parties and stuff that they prioritize."

"Hey," I interject, wanting to take control of the conversation and steer it back to the heart of the matter, "I'm happy to watch Damon. It’s the least I could do for a police officer." I can’t help but smirk at the thought, especially since he’s already invaded my dreams in a way that leaves me flustered. In his bed, no less.

Gabriel's smile widens, genuine surprise lighting up his features. "Wow. Really?"

I nod, unable to resist the undeniable pull of Gabriel's boyish charm. His eyes gleam with a sense of wonder, as though I’ve just cracked the code to solving all the world's injustices in one fell swoop—hunger, poverty, and homelessness, all neatly tiedup with a bow. "Absolutely, Gabriel. I'll be back on Thursday, without a doubt."

His smile broadens, and I can see the genuine anticipation dancing in his expression. "I'm looking forward to it," he replies, his voice warm with enthusiasm.

3

GABRIEL

She's perfect with Damon. I can see that as the days tumble by, each one blending seamlessly into the next. She fills a place in our lives that I didn't even realize we were missing, a vibrant spark that ignites our mundane routines.

Luna drops into our lives Thursday through Saturday, and with her presence, she flips our world upside down in the most delightful way. She and Damon dive headfirst into a host of science experiments that I didn’t even know existed, their laughter and enthusiasm echoing through the house. She shows up armed with household products—vinegar, baking soda, and an array of colorful liquids—and the two of them spend what few waking hours they have together exploring the fascinating concepts of gravity, life cycles, the properties of water, and so much more, their imaginations running wild with each new discovery.

When I get home in the morning, I always make it a point to cook them breakfast, filling the kitchen with the comforting aroma of sizzling eggs and crisp bacon. Damon goes into great detail about the new things he’s learned, his eyes sparkling withexcitement and pride. Even Joey, our mischievous gray furball, is learning, he insists. But as our playful little troublemaker keeps growing, the only thing he seems to be mastering is how to get into more and more mischief, turning the living room into his personal playground.

On Fridays, Luna and I walk Damon to the bus stop after a quick breakfast, and it almost feels like we’re a family, united in the simple act of sending him off to school. I’ve discovered that Luna’s charming southern accent comes from her years spent in Texas, a melodic lilt that adds warmth to her words. She moved up here to Kansas to be closer to her parents, who are retiring after very fulfilling careers in teaching, and it’s clear that her roots run deep in the values they instilled in her.

"That's where I get most of my stuff," she tells me one day with a playful wink, her eyes sparkling with mischief. When I mention that I’ll gladly refund her the money for the school supplies, she waves me off dismissively, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "What's my mom going to do with it? She's retired, Gabriel. Don't worry about it. It's just taking up space in their garage, collecting dust." Her nonchalance about the situation makes me smile, and I can’t help but appreciate her generous spirit.

When Luna isn't around, Damon talks about her constantly, his little voice brimming with enthusiasm. He asks when she’s coming back, as though he can't quite grasp the passage of time or the days of the week. Because when Thursday rolls around, he comes roaring out of school, his face alight with anticipation, her name spilling from his lips like a cherished secret. Some days, I can't tell who's more excited to see her, him or me, and that realization brings a warmth to my chest that I didn’t expect.

After a month of her devoted service, I find myself at a crossroads, a decision looming ahead that feels weighty and significant.

"Son, are you sure about this?" My dad asks over the speakerphone, his voice laced with concern. "Seems a little risky to be playing footsie with the babysitter." There’s a hint of protective instinct in his tone, and I can sense the unspoken questions swirling in the air between us, heavy with the implications of my feelings.

I should have known my mother would have me on speakerphone. She and my father are practically glued together, a duo that thrives on shared conversations. If he hadn't been home to join the call, she would have eagerly relayed every word I said to him like a parrot reciting lines. "Thanks for your opinion, Dad. But it's just a date. I really like Luna, and so does Damon. She's beautiful and incredibly smart. I don’t get many opportunities to meet women outside of work," I explain, my voice steady despite the rising tension.

My mom clucks her tongue disapprovingly, and I can hear the unmistakable sound of her hand meeting my father's arm or shoulder in a playful reprimand. "Daryl, don’t discourage him! Gabriel, honey, ask the nice lady out. I would love to watch Damon while the two of you go out." Her enthusiasm is palpable, a hopeful undertone woven into her words.

She's just wishing for more grandchildren, but her presumption that Luna and I will settle down and start a family works in my favor in this moment. "I'm not even sure she's going to say yes, Mom. I just wanted to ask if you'd be willing to watch Damon if she did say yes." My heart races at the thought, and I can't help but feel the weight of expectation in her voice, blending excitement with a hint of pressure.

"You're a police officer, son," my dad chimes back into the conversation, his tone light but tinged with pride. "You're a good-looking guy. I can't imagine why she'd say no." His confidence in me is unwavering, even if I'm not as sure of myself.

"Our son is very handsome, Daryl, and quite smart," my mom adds, her voice warm and affectionate. "He's also a good father to his son." The way she emphasizes that last part makes it sound almost like a resounding endorsement, as if my parenting skills somehow guarantee my dating success.

They're stressing me out. I shouldn't have called them. I should have just asked Luna out, set the date, and then tried one of my other babysitters. Maybe, on a whim, they could have actually worked a couple of hours on a casual Tuesday night. The thought of navigating the babysitting labyrinth didn’t seem so daunting then. Then I wouldn't have had to put up with these two yahoos dissecting my finer merits and inadvertently turning my nerves into a full-blown anxiety attack.

"Well, thank you for everything, Mom and Dad. I'll let you know if it works out and I need you." I hang up before the two of them can get any cringier. The last thing I need is for them to start discussing my love life in any further detail, imagining scenarios that only serve to amplify my already racing heart.

"Knock, knock!" Luna announces cheerfully as she breezes through the front door, her bright energy illuminating the dimly lit room. I've given her a key, granting her full access at all times, a small gesture of trust that allows her and Damon the freedom to come and go as they please. This way, if they ever decide to dash out for ice cream or venture to the park for some fresh air, they can always get back inside without a hitch. "Hey there. Why so glum, chum?" she asks, her playful tone cutting through the heavy atmosphere.

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