Page 25 of The Legend Next Door
It’s five-thirty in the afternoon. It’s still light, and I know full well childfree people don’t typically eat for hours, but Luca’s hungry, and it’s been a horrible, long day. “Does now work?”
“Now’s perfect.”
I fill him in on what happened so he knows what he’s walking into and hang up. The doorbell rings less than three minutes later.
“Luca,” I call out, “come and see who’s here.”
Luca’s mouth drops, and he starts jumping on the spot when I open the door. “Jelly!Jelly’shere!”
Jeremiah stands on the porch wearing a big smile and a pastel-pink T-shirt with a unicorn shitting a rainbow out of its ass. He has a bottle of wine in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other. He hands me the wine as he crosses the threshold. Luca hugs his waist for a long time and then immediately attempts to relieve him of the ice cream.
We walk to the kitchen and when we get there, Jeremiah stops dead. He stands still and smiles at the backsplash above the stovetop, and says, “Oooh, Ilovethat tile.”
“Maybe we should start with the ice cream, Dad,” suggests Luca before I’m able to respond to Jeremiah. “You know, so it doesn’t become all runny. It doesn’t taste as good when it’s all milky.”
I chuckle as I uncork the wine, pouring two of the biggest glasses a man can possibly get away with and seem vaguely cultured at the same time. “Hmm, we could do that…or we could pop it in the freezer. I’ve heard that stops ice cream from melting too.”
Luca looks unconvinced, and to my surprise, Jeremiah does too. A pair of brown eyes and a pair of blue blink at me. Luca’s mouth opens to speak, but Jeremiah beats him to it.
“Don’t be mannered on my account, Ben. I live alone. I eat ice cream before dinner all the time.”
“Oh, what the hell,” I say, grabbing bowls from the cabinet and following as Luca shows Jeremiah to the dining room.
“Let’s light candles and call it a party,” cries Luca happily.
I forgot we used to do that. Not forgot, forgot. Forgot, as in, I know we used to do it. I just haven’t thought of it in a long time.
“My mommy used to light candles and then call it a party, Jelly. So, like, if we had pizza and candles, it was a pizza party. If we had dinner and candles, it was a dinner party. One time, we had apple slices and candles, and she called it an apple party.”
“I love that,” says Jeremiah, “and for the record, I’malwaysup for an ice cream party.”
I find a stock of pillar candles in the sideboard’s cabinet. There are seven or eight of them, and I put all of them on the table. Today isn’t a day for restraint. I let Luca light them, and as he does, I notice how Jeremiah watches him. Closely. He doesn’t rush him or crowd him, but he’s on guard. He’s ready. I can tell he’d get to Luca in under a second if something went wrong.
It’s a strange feeling.
A good feeling. A really good feeling that makes me exhale a breath I’ve been holding for almost a year and a half. There’s another adult in my home. Someone else is watching my child. Not just watching him, watching him with the intention to keep him from harm. Watching him in a way that makes me feel like I can close my eyes for a moment because it’s not all on me. I’m not alone. Someone else has him.
The candles are lit, flickering weakly because of the late afternoon sun flooding the room. It doesn’t matter. It still feels like a party. I raise my glass to Jeremiah, and he does the same. He takes a sip like a person who’s mentally stable. I take mine in a way usually associated with those suffering from severe dehydration. He notices and smiles, raising his chin and quickly taking another sip to catch up with me.
It buoys me immeasurably. This is just what I need, ice cream for an appetizer, candles lit in the afternoon, a truckload of wine, and someone who’s prepared to drink it with me like they mean business.
Luca has cheered up too. He’s watching and offering advice as I scoop healthy servings of ice cream into our bowls. As I do it, Jeremiah tells Luca how much he loves ice cream. Luca is enthralled. I don’t think he’s ever met an adult who likes the stuff half as much as he does.
“So,” says Luca, “are you saying you like ice cream more than candy? All types of candy?”
“Yep, absolutely.”
“What about candyandsoda?”
“It’s not even a contest.”
“What about candy and sodaandcake?”
They go around and around, listing treats and comparing them, and no matter what Luca offers, Jeremiah prefers ice cream. As they go on, the comparisons become more and more ridiculous, and eventually, Luca is in stitches.
“Let me put it to you like this,” Jeremiah says when Luca’s face is ruddy from laughter. “There are only a handful of things I like more than ice cream, and those things are books, coffee, Coco and Gabe, and a very select group of people.”
“Who are the people?” asks Luca.
