Page 134 of Lovebug
“Sure! Sure, sure, sure! Hell, yeah! I mean heck, yeah—let’s skim!” Chloe says.
I watch them walk to the water’s edge and start chatting and throwing rocks. It fills me with something I don’t think I have a name for yet.
I tentatively make my way up to Holden and settle next to him on the sturdy tree bough.
“Hey, buddy.” I tap him on the brim of his baseball cap.
He doesn’t take his eyes off his book, just says, “Your hair looks weird.”
“I know, right?” I say with faux seriousness. “Tried something different last night. What do you think?”
“Too puffy. And your clothes are weird too,” he responds in that direct, sort of rude way only small kids can pull off.
“Eh, sometimes you gotta try new things,” I say real breezy-like. “So. An exciting day so far, huh?”
He shrugs again.
“Whatcha reading?”
“A book Wallace let me borrow about bugs,” he says, and despite his best efforts, I hear the excitement creep into his voice. My heart feels like it flip flops in my chest. Wally bought me a bug book? You’d think after all these years I’d have seen them all, but somehow, I’ve missed this particular one.
“Cool, cool,” I say as I scoot closer and peek over Holden’s tiny shoulder. “Ooh, the peanut bug, huh?”
“Its real name is Fulgora laternaria,” he snaps. “People only call it a peanut bug because of its weird, hollow peanut head.”
“I know, buddy,” I try to be soothing. “It’s just kind of fun to call it a peanut bug. But you’re right, its real name is—”
“Did you know it’s one of the most bullied bugs in the world?”
I let that sink in for a moment.
“Is that true?”
“Totally true, yeah. That’s why he has like seventy-five million defenses. Well, five actually, but five is a lot. He has the hollow peanut head, the two weirdo eyeball patterns on his wings, the stinky skunk spray he squirts from his butt when he’s scared and—and—and—”
As Holden’s been talking, he’s become more and more upset, his breath getting choppy and eyes turning watery.
“Buddy, buddy, buddy. Slow down. Breathe.” He breathes and gets a bit calmer. “Is that why you got upset today?” I ask.
“YesnosortofIdon’tknow.” He says it all as one word.
“Hm. You feel like telling me a bit more?”
That’s apparently all it takes, and he starts spilling his little heart out. “Jonah said he heard my mommy doesn’t live with us anymore and that she doesn’t want to be my mom anymore, but that’s not true! She has ‘partum problems’—that’s what my dad said—and she just has to stay someplace else for a few days to get some rest and start to feel better, and she’ll be right back.”
Suddenly his mom’s behavior at drop-off is making more sense. I wish his dad had told me this. It’s so much easier to care for the kids when we know what’s going on in their home lives.
“Oh, okay,” I say. “So she’s been kind of sad since she had the baby?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs and sharply turns a page.
“Hmm. That happens sometimes. But you know it has nothing to do with you and your little brother or your daddy and how much she loves you all, right?”
He just looks up at me with those big eyes of his but doesn’t say anything in return, so I take a deep breath and continue.
“Did you know that my mommy had to go away for a while too?” I say.
“She did?”
