Page 116 of College Town

“Oh, dear.” Mom stifles another chuckle with her fingertips. “You should eat something.”

Lawson carries the coffee and sandwich to the table and sets them at Tommy’s elbow. “On it.” He taps Tommy on the shoulder. “Sit up. Eat this.”

Tommy hauls himself up with a groan and props his chin in his hand, gaze low-lidded and suspicious on the plate.

“You treat her right, and she’ll treat you right,” Lawson says. When Tommy tips a glance up at him, he says, “Small bites.”

Tommy nods, visibly braces himself, and pulls the plate closer.

Lawson wants to bundle Tommy back out the door and on his way, but that can’t happen – chiefly because it’s going to take a while for Tommy to get through his food and coffee and start to feel more human. But also because the idea of throwing him out in this shape makes Lawson’s stomach hurt. So long as he’s under Lawson’s care, Tommy’s going to be treated well and gently, and that’s just that.

He has to see to his dad, though.

“Is Dad ready?” he asks his mom. “Is he–”

She turns a soft smile on him. “He’s getting a little tired, yeah.”

“I’m sorry I’m late. I–”

She shakes her head, silencing him. “It’s fine, baby. I’m glad you had a nice time.” Her brows go up, asking:you did have a nice time, right?

“Yeah.”

“You go help Dad. I’ll make sure Tommy eats his sandwich.”

Panic – not real panic, panic’s second-cousin – flares in his gut, and Mom must be able to read it on his face, because she smirks. “Oh, well…”

She pats his chest. “Go. We’ll be fine.” She goes to fix herself a cup of coffee.

Lawson hesitates. Looks at Tommy, who’s holding his sandwich in front of his face and having a staring contest with a dollop of peanut butter squeezing out at the edge. “He might…”

“Please,” Mom says, going to the table to sit across from Tommy. “I’myourmother. You think I can’t handle a little vomit?”

Good point.

“I’m not gonna vomit,” Tommy says, and takes a bite of sandwich as if to prove it.

“That’s nice, sweetie,” Mom says. “Chew slowly.”

“I’ll be back,” Lawson promises, breaking out in a cold sweat at the idea of those two alone together.

Surely in Tommy’s current state, Mom won’t ask him probing questions. There’s no way she’ll make things even more awkward than they are…right? She wouldn’t talk about Lawson’s feelings…would she?

Shit, he needs to hurry.

But there might be no worse sin than hurrying when it comes to Dad’s care, so of course Lawson doesn’t.

“Hiya, Pop.”

“Hi…ssssson.” Ss are hard. As are any TH sounds. Dad’s brain is still ninety-nine percent functional, the speech therapist said. He understands what everyone’s saying around him, and he thinks up the proper responses, but there’s a glitch in the nerves of his face, lips, and tongue that make getting them out tricky.

“What are we watching?” Lawson asks, moving around behind the chair to release the brake.

Dad gestures limply with the remote in his hand, and Lawson takes it from him and sets it aside on the end table. “Ta Black Lissss. Ta.”

“The Black List? I thought you guys already marathoned all of that?”

“Ssssssta…over at the ssss…beginning.”

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