Gavin put his comic book aside, and stood. “I’m good.”
I resisted the urge to prod my shy son into engaging in conversation better. But I knew I couldn’t control this. These two had to figure out how to communicate for themselves. Instead, I took a step toward the door. “I think I’ll go into the kitchen, give you guys a chance to talk.”
Why was it so hard to leave the room?
I thought about Gavin’s concern that Smoke didn’t like him. I truly believed that was impossible. How could anyone not love my sweet son? They just needed a chance to bond.
Glancing back, I noticed a motorcycle club patch on the back of his jacket. The patch itself was an interesting image of a motorcycle headlight and handlebars, with angel wings on each side of the motorcycle and a skull on top. Above the patch were the words Rebel Saints. At the bottom, the location of the club was listed as Holbeck, MS.
“Why don’t you show me around?” Smoke suggested.
After I left the room, I could hear the soft lilt of Gavin’s voice as I tried to keep myself busy by brewing a pot of coffee. I didn’t even want any, but it gave me something to offer to Smoke. It was a strange feeling, the compulsion to keep busy to avoid being uncomfortable in my own home. There was someone here that I barely knew, and I felt the need to entertain, even though he most definitely wasn’t here for me. I didn’t want to just disappear into my bedroom, in case they needed me. But as I listened to the murmuring coming from Gavin’s bedroom, unable to make out any of the actual words being said, I felt glad he was here for our son.
I was rearranging the refrigerator magnets for the third time, just to keep my hands busy, when the pair of them came out of the bedroom. The living room and kitchen were an open concept, so I stood at the small kitchen island as they came my way.
“Mom, can I have a Mountain Dew?”
“Sure,” I said, grabbing one from the refrigerator. I turned to Smoke, “How about you? You want a soda? Some coffee?”
“No, thanks,” he said, not looking directly at me.
I hated how tense things were between us, and we needed to talk it out, but I’d already learned we needed to be alone for that.
“Have you seen all the Marvel movies?” Gavin asked Smoke, climbing up onto one of the two wooden barstools I had lining the front of the island.
“I haven’t seen any of them,” Smoke said, taking a seat on the other stool.
Gavin’s eyes went wide. “None of them?” he asked incredulously.
“Nope. Do you want to tell me about them?”
“Oh, boy.” I chuckled. “Cancel any plans you might have.”
Smoke actually smiled at me for the first time since the night we met.
I swallowed hard as the sight of it made a tingle shoot up my spine. Turning away, I grabbed a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator, hoping it would cool me down a little.
Gavin then launched into an overview of all the Marvel movies, touching on every single instalment. Smoke listened, even though I could tell it wasn’t really his kind of thing. I felt glad that he let Gavin tell him all about it, because he was at his most lively when talking about Marvel comic book characters, especially the ones in the movies. He was obsessed with the idea of superheroes, his all-time favorite being Captain America. Even if the two of them weren’t really connecting over this, I was sure Gavin enjoyed sharing his vast knowledge.
It seemed like Smoke would be sticking around for a while, so as they talked, I prepared dinner, listening to the two of them as I boiled some spaghetti noodles and opened a jar of sauce. I wasn’t exactly Martha Stewart in the kitchen, but the food was ready in fifteen minutes. I wordlessly slid plates in front of Smoke and Gavin, and they both thanked me before Gavin picked right back up, describing the first Avengers movie. Smoke ate without contributing much to the conversation, but I could tell by the toothy grin on Gavin’s face that he enjoyed being the center of our attention.
By the time he’d finished with the long, harrowing tale, we’d all finished eating and I’d washed the dishes. I glanced at the clock and saw it was already getting close to bedtime for him. “Okay, buddy,” I said, wiping my hands on a dishtowel. “It’s almost nine, so I need you to go take a quick shower before bed.”
“Can’t I stay up a little later tonight? I haven’t finished my comic yet.”
“There’s no reason you can’t read it tomorrow,” I said firmly. I’d learned a long time ago that if I let him stay up late once, it became a pattern that messed up his whole schedule. Besides, on my nights off, I actually got some coveted time to myself once he was asleep.
“Fine,” he practically groaned the word, but he got off the barstool before turning to Smoke. “I gotta go to bed. Can you visit again?”
I felt a warm, hopeful feeling flare to life in the center of my chest at his question. Gavin was finally going to have a relationship with his father, something he’d always wanted.
“Maybe. Or you could visit me.”
Gavin shrugged. “Okay.”
Smoke and I watched him walk away, into the bathroom.
Once he was out of sight, locked inside the small room, Smoke turned on the barstool, pinning me with a calculating stare.