Page 4 of On The Run

And then Grayson came into my life. We were both reeling for those first few months, and I was desperate for anything that would get him to connect with me. I mean, I understood. The first five years of his life were chaos, and then suddenly, this man showed up out of nowhere claiming to be his dad and telling him that he had to move all the way from Texas to Colorado. I’d be rebelling too. And Gray was way too young to understand that I had no idea he existed, otherwise I’d have come to get him so much sooner. To him, I abandoned him, and I guessed, in a way, I did, though I had no way of knowing I had a child living in Dallas, of all places.

I started coming to this café on the mornings I took Gray to school, instead of my parents, out of sheer desperation. I wasn’t even ashamed to admit I bribed him. I told him if he stopped giving me a hard time about getting ready for Pre-K, I’d let him pick anything in the bakery counter for breakfast. And it worked. Ten months later, Gray and I were in a much better place, but we still came here three days a week without fail. It’d become our thing, and Aiden had been here since day one.

I still remember it like it was yesterday. In fact, I can close my eyes and I’m right back here a year ago, dragging a sullen 5-year-old into the café, desperate for break . . .

I looked back in the rearview mirror where Gray sat in his booster seat, his little arms crossed across his chest and sporting a full-on pout. Not that this was anything new. It seemed like sullen and pouting were Gray’s default modes, at least when it came to me. This was especially true when I tried to get him to go to Pre-K. I didn’t know what the issue was, but he was dead set against going. “Mama never made me go to school!” he screamed at me in the middle of our living room, and then again during our counseling session. Well yeah, your mama was too busy snorting up all her money and trying to find her next hookup to worry about you going to school. But I couldn’t exactly tell this kid that.

Gray’s therapist suggested finding an activity that was just for the two of us, that we could do together. So, that was what we were doing. I found a café that was halfway between Gray’s school and my work that I could easily take him to for breakfast on the days I took him to school. It was half bribe, half activity and I prayed that it fucking worked because I was desperate.

I looked back at Gray again, and he hadn’t moved. How was it possible for a kid this young to be so stubborn? “Halmeoniand Grampa invited us for a pizza and movie night tomorrow. Do you want to go?”

“Give him choices and let him make some decisions,” his counselor told me. Right now, everything was feeling out of his control, and it was because he was so young it was easy to make all the decisions for him. But he needed to feel safe to make some decisions on his own. Even if it was as simple as what he wanted to eat for dinner or what shoes he wanted to wear. So, whenever something like a family dinner or movie night came up, I tried to give him the option to choose. Of course, this was easier said than done as well, since half the time he just shrugged and refused to answer.

It happened again, but I saw his face perk up when I mentioned my parents. He may still hate me, but Gray was already developing a bond with my dad.

We pulled up to the shop. I parked and walked around to unbuckle Gray. That was another thing he was pissed about, having to sit in a booster seat like a “stupid little kid.” Sorry, buddy, it was the law, and your mom may not have cared about it, but I did. And your safety. I helped Gray out and he reluctantly took my hand as we walked in.

I had never been in the café before, but it was cute. There were small private booths along the walls and bigger tables for larger groups in the middle. Fairy lights lined the walls, and one had a mural dedicated to all the school sports in the area.

Gray’s eyes were wide as he looked around. “Do you like this place, bud?”

Gray nodded and turned toward the glass bakery display by the counter. “Are you ready to order? Do you know what you want?”

Gray shrugged but looked up at me shyly. “Can I have a bagel?”

I grinned. This was the first time he outright told me what he wanted without a serious amount of prompting. “Of course. C’mon, let’s go order. And maybe if you’re good and eat all your bagel, you can have a cake pop.”

Gray’s face lit up, and I internally fist-bumped the small victory. I guided him gently to the counter where the young barista with his septum piercing smiled up at me. “Welcome to Common Grounds Café. How can I help you today?” The man’s smile was captivating, and Gray was apparently as hooked as I was as he bounced up on his toes excitedly.

“Can I have a bagel?” he asked, and I nearly fell over in shock. He was actually speaking to someone without being forced? Was this guy a fucking witch or something?

“Sure! Our bagels are awesome! Do you know what kind you want?”

“There’s different kinds?”

“Yup. We got regular bagels, and raisin, blueberry, onion, you name it.”

Gray wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Onion?”

The man, whose nametag said Aiden, laughed airily. “I feel you, little man. How about a regular bagel then?”

“Yeah, ok. My dad said I could have a cake pop too, if I’m good.”

“Well then, let’s make sure you’re really good, ok?”

And that was how our café tradition started, and also Gray’s first real time opening up to anyone besides my father. At first, I just thought of Aiden as the sweet kid who worked at the counter, always ready with a smile and who never brushed Gray off as he rambled about whatever his passion was for that day.

As time went on, I started noticing little things about Aiden. Inappropriate things. I noticed how he had little specks of gold in his otherwise dark-brown oval-shaped eyes that sparkled whenever he was excited about something. And how, when he didn’t think I was looking, he’d sneak glances at me under those long lashes. I started to notice the difference between his customer-service smile—that was large but lacked emotion—and his real smile that lit up a room. He didn’t seem to show that one often, but the few times I saw it, it was enough to make my day.

I began to notice how he’d suck in a breath and close his eyes for a second or two before dealing with a particularly obnoxious customer. And how he always seemed to have dark circles under his eyes and some tightness in his features that belied his otherwise young appearance.

I tried not to pay attention to the kid, besides being polite when he was speaking to me, but I couldn’t deny I was fascinated by him.

I shook my head, clearing myself of my ridiculous thoughts and bringing my complete focus back to Gray. From the second I laid eyes on him, I knew he was my kid. I thought if I ever ran into him on the street when he was still with his mom, I’d have somehow known. He wasn’t a complete ringer for me. His skin tone was paler, more tan than brown, which made sense since his mom was white. His nose was smaller, more like a button, and his lips were thinner. But he had my eyes, which my mom was thrilled about, and his wild black hair was exactly what I’d dealt with my entire life.

The boy was so full of life though. His early years were so rough, it always amazed me to see how he bounced back once he trusted me and my parents enough to know we weren’t going anywhere. There were still days where he reverted to the reserved, distrusting little boy I brought back to Colorado with me, but those days were becoming fewer and fewer. It’d been amazing to see his little personality grow as he’d become more comfortable with us.

“Finish your bagel, buddy. We’re going to be late for school if we don’t get a move on soon.”

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