“But she was saying it! In her head!”
“But not out loud.”
“That was what she was saying.”
“In her head.” He was just being stubborn now. “Hunter, you’re a very young man. But to make your own life easier, you have to start thinking before you talk.”
Hunter’s eyes were wide and brimful with tears.
“You have to think, and you have to keep your mouth shut.”
Two big tears coursed down his pink cheeks. Oh, geez Louise.
“You can’t ask people questions about what you hear from their heads. Remember, we talked about privacy?”
He nodded once uncertainly, and then again with more energy. He remembered.
“People—grown-ups and children—are going to get real upset with you if they know you can read what’s in their heads. Because the stuff in someone’s head is private. You wouldn’t want anyone telling you you’re thinking about how bad you need to pee.”
Hunter glared at me.
“See? Doesn’t feel good, does it?”
“No,” he said, grudgingly.
“I want you to grow up as normal as you can,” I said. “Growing up with this condition is tough. Do you know any kids with problems everyone can see?”
After a minute, he nodded. “Jenny Vasco,” he said. “She has a big mark on her face.”
“It’s the same thing, except you can hide your difference, and Jenny can’t,” I said. I was feeling mighty sorry for Jenny Vasco. It seemed wrong to be teaching a little kid that he should be stealthy and secretive, but the world wasn’t ready for a mind-reading five-year-old, and probably never would be.
I felt like a mean old witch as I looked at his unhappy and tear-stained face. “We’re going to go home and read a story,” I said.
“Are you mad at me, Aunt Sookie?” he said, with a hint of a sob.
“No,” I said, though I wasn’t happy about being kicked. Since he’d know that, I’d better mention it. “I don’t appreciate your kicking me, Hunter, but I’m not mad anymore. I’m really mad at the rest of the world, because this is hard on you.”
He was silent all the way home. We went inside and sat on the couch after he paid a visit to the bathroom and picked a couple of books from the stash I’d kept. Hunter was asleep before I finished The Poky Little Puppy. I gently eased him down on the couch, pulled off his shoes, and got my own book. I read while he napped. I got up from time to time to get some small task done. Hunter slept for almost two hours. I found this an incredibly peaceful time, though if I hadn’t had Hunter all day, it might simply have been boring.
After I’d started a load of laundry and tiptoed back into the room, I stood by the sleeping boy and looked down. If I had a child, would my baby have the same problem Hunter had? I hoped not. Of course, if Eric and I continued in our relationship, I would never have a child unless I was artificially inseminated. I tried to picture myself asking Eric how he felt about me being impregnated by an unknown man, and I’m ashamed to say I had to smother a snigger.
Eric was very modern in some respects. He liked the convenience of his cell phone, he loved automatic garage-door openers, and he liked watching the news on television. But artificial insemination. I didn’t think so. I’d heard his verdict on plastic surgery, and I had a strong feeling he’d consider this in the same category.
“What’s funny, Aunt Sookie?” Hunter said.
“Nothing important,” I said. “How about some apple slices and some milk?”
“No ice cream?”
“Well, you had a hamburger and French fries and a Coke at lunch. I think we’d better stick to the apple slices.”
I put The Lion King on while I prepared Hunter’s snack, and he sat on the floor in front of the television while he ate. Hunter got tired of the movie (which of course he’d seen before) about halfway through, and after that, I taught him how to play Candy Land. He won the first time.
As we were working our way through a second game, there was a knock. “Daddy!” Hunter shrieked, and pelted for the door. Before I could stop him, he’d pulled it open. I was glad he’d known who the caller was, because it gave me a bad moment. Remy was standing there in a dress shirt, suit pants, and polished lace-ups. He looked like a different man. He was grinning at Hunter as if he hadn’t seen his child in days. In a second, the boy was up in his arms.
It was heartwarming. They hugged each other tight. I had a little lump in my throat.
In a second, Hunter was telling Remy about Candy Land, and about McDonald’s, and about Claude, and Remy was listening with complete attention. He gave me a quick smile to say he’d greet me in a second, once the torrent of information had slowed down.
“Son, you want to go get all your stuff together? Don’t leave anything,” Remy cautioned his son. With a quick smile in my direction, Hunter dashed off to the back of the house.
“Did it go okay?” Remy asked, the minute Hunter was out of earshot. Though in a sense Hunter was never out of hearing, it would have to do.
“Yes, I think so. He’s been so good,” I said, resolving to keep the kick to myself. “We had a little problem on the McDonald’s playground, but I think it led to a good talk with him.”
Remy looked as if a load had just dropped back onto his shoulders. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, and I could have—well, kicked myself.
“No, it was only normal stuff, the kind of thing you brought him here so I could help with,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. My cousin Claude was here, and he played with Hunter at the park, though I was there all the time, of course.” I didn’t want Remy to think I’d farmed Hunter out to any old person. I tried to think of what else to tell the anxious father. “He ate real good, and he slept just fine. Not long enough,” I said, and Remy laughed.
“I know all about that,” he told me.
I started to tell Remy that Eric was asleep in the closet and that Hunter had seen him for a few minutes, but I had the confused feeling that Eric would be one man too many. I’d already introduced the idea of Claude, and Remy hadn’t been totally delighted to hear about that. A typical dad reaction, I guessed.
“Did the funeral go okay? No last-minute hitches?” You never know what to ask about funerals.
“No one threw themselves into the grave or fainted,” Remy said. “That’s about all you can hope for. A few skirmishes over a dining room table that all the kids wanted to load into their trucks right then.”
I nodded. I’d heard many brooding thoughts through the years about inheritances, and I’d had my own troubles with Jason when Gran died. “People don’t always have their nicest face on when it comes to dividing up a household,” I said.
I offered Remy a drink, but he smilingly turned me down. He was obviously ready to be alone with his son, and he peppered me with questions about Hunter’s manners, which I was able to praise, and his eating habits, which I was able to admire, too. Hunter wasn’t a picky kid, and that was a blessing.
Within a few minutes, Hunter had returned to the living room with all his stuff, though I did a quick patrol and found two Duplos that had escaped his notice. Since he’d liked The Poky Little Puppy so much, I stuck it in his backpack for him to enjoy at home. After a few more thank-yous, and an unexpected hug from Hunter, they were gone.
I watched Remy’s old truck go down the driveway.
The house felt oddly empty.
Of course, Eric was asleep underneath it, but he was dead for a few more hours, and I knew I could rouse him only in the direst of circumstances. Some vampires couldn’t wake in the daytime, even if they were set on fire. I pushed that memory away, since it made me shiver. I glanced at the clock. I had part of the sunny afternoon to myself, and it was my day off.
I was in my black-and-white bikini and lying out on the old chaise before you could say, “Sunbathing is bad for you.”