The Fix (Carolina Connections #1) (3 page)

The But Sandwich

Laney

“Soooo
hungry,” Gavin whined like the little baby he is. He was stretched out on the
sofa with his hands cradling his stomach and his sweaty shirt sullying the
upholstery.

“Why
didn’t you eat any lunch?” I asked from the kitchen where I was helping Rocco
with his backpack. We’d just walked in the door a minute earlier and I was
equal parts eager and anxious to hear about Gavin’s first day.

“I
did.” Whine. “But they had me running around so much that I burned that off by
about one o’clock. I forgot how much sweat a human body can produce in a day.”

Eww.

“I’m
hungry too, Mommy,” Rocco said as he pulled off his shoes and left them in the
middle of the floor – right by the dried up, half-chewed Cocoa Krispies I had
forgotten about from this morning. Double Eww.

“Okay,
baby.” I grabbed the paper towel roll from the counter and went to the sink to
wet a few. “How does frozen pizza sound?” I called to the other room.

“Make
it two, and no veggies!” came the response from Gavin.

“Yeah,
no veggies!” Rocco echoed.

I
smiled. I know I probably shouldn’t. But when I didn’t stop to think too hard
about whether or not Gavin was the best influence on my son, I was so grateful
that there was indeed a man in his life on a consistent basis. One who would
never flake out on him and all of a sudden find something better to do.
Sometimes it even seemed that the similarity in their maturity levels was, in
fact, the very glue that bonded them.

I
admit that one of my fears when my mom and dad moved was that Rocco would be
left with just me and I would be depriving him of the opportunity to have
loving and reliable men in his life. That was definitely a contributing factor
in my decision to allow Gavin to move in with us.

My
biggest fear has always been messing my kid up.

I
just had to keep reminding myself that in the battle for Rocco’s well-being, a
guy who loves him will beat out veggies every time.

As
awesome as my kid is, he obviously did not just spontaneously appear in my womb
one day as if my ovaries were having a boring day and said, “Hey, you know what
would be fun?” No, he was the result of numerous lime gelatin shots, a hot
friend-of-a-friend musician visiting from California, and some extraordinarily
bad judgment on everyone’s part.

Dominic,
Rocco’s dad, is actually a nice guy and I have to give him some credit. After
the initial, and expected, freak-out when I’d tracked him down by phone with
the news every nineteen year old guy wants to hear – guess what? It’s a boy! –
he’d tried to step up the best way he knew how. It had been three months since
the fateful deed in the back seat of a borrowed extended cab truck (
I know –
don’t remind me
), and only three days since I’d finally stopped Linda
Blair-ing my guts out with morning sickness. As I sat on my bed in my childhood
room clutching my cell phone, we had discussed possible options – me moving to
California, him moving to North Carolina – but in the end it had just made
sense for each of us to stay put. My family was here and I was mid-way through
my freshman year of college. His family was scattered, but he had just been
accepted into a very prestigious music program, and while his family had quite
a bit of money, we’d both known that him dropping out and moving across the
country for his knocked-up one night stand would not go over well.

As
cringe-worthy as it sounds, we were complete strangers. And while neither of us
wanted Dominic to be a stranger to his child, uprooting hadn’t been the best
plan. So I had stayed here and Dominic had flown out for the birth. And after a
paternity test which his family’s lawyer had naturally insisted on, a
reasonable arrangement for child support was agreed upon and we’d worked out
visitation. Dominic, even now, didn’t make much money, but with his family’s
resources he made sure we got what we needed financially.

And
he does love his son – I know this. But I don’t know if he’ll ever love anyone
more than he loves his music and that’s not what I want for Rocco in a full-time
dad.

Now
Dominic flies out to take Rocco for a few weeks every year between breaks in
his busy touring schedule. And we all forge ahead. But at night when I lie in
bed and rehash all of the parenting decisions I could have handled differently
that day – not to mention all the calories I shouldn’t have eaten and all the
chores I should have completed – I often wish to the bottom of my soul that our
story of mother and son had begun differently. That instead of a duo we were,
instead, some incredible kick-ass trio.

I
set the oven to preheat and attempted to ease into a group discussion so I
could covertly interrogate Gavin about his job. I began with Rocco. “So Rock,
did you and your new friends do anything fun at school today?”

“Nah.”

“What
do you mean, ‘nah’? You were there all day.”

Another
change since we’d branched out on our own, Rocco was attending a new school –
otherwise known as daycare – for the full day, instead of the half day of
preschool we’d done while living with my parents. Once I’d pushed past the
guilt, I could appreciate that this was actually a positive change for him.
He’d spent the majority of his time around adults before and it was high time
he made some friends his own age.

I
moved to the half wall between the kitchen and the living room to find Rocco
mimicking his uncle as he lay on my favorite cushy armchair, hand to his gut
and head thrown back.

“I
dunno,” was his complete response.

“Well,
what did you do all day?”

“Don’t
‘member.” He shrugged and twitched his nose.

Well,
how do you respond to that? I guessed it was time to move on to the next topic.

“Okay.
How about you, Uncle Gavin? Did you do anything fun with your new friends
today?”

Gavin’s
head came off the couch to fix me with narrowed eyes. “Am I allowed to say I
don’t remember either?” Taking in my look he said, “Yeah, I thought not. It was
okay, I guess. They all treated me like the newbie, as expected. Most of the
guys were okay, some of them were dicks– I mean, jerks.” He glanced Rocco’s way
but the little guy was un-phased. “It was mostly a lot of lifting things and
holding this or that while somebody secured it.”

“That
doesn’t sound so bad,” I commented. “Where were you working?”

“I
was at some apartment complex off New Garden but the boss said they might move
me to the grocery store on Friendly or maybe even the commercial building going
in at the end of our street. I told him I lived here so I think he might try to
put me on that one which would be cool.”

“What
commercial building?” I asked, unfamiliar with anything being built by our
neighborhood.

“I
don’t know, some building they’re putting up with rental spaces – right at the
entrance.”

That
was odd. “There are houses on either side.”

“Don’t
ask me – it’s my first day. Nate said the houses were in foreclosure so they
got the properties at a really good price. They’re gonna tear them down and put
something else up.”

Apprehension
speared my gut, but I pushed it aside. “So it sounds like you met a lot of
people for your first day. That’s good,” I led.

“I
guess.”

What
was it with guys? Would it kill them to share a little?

“Well,
since Mom and Dad aren’t here, someone has to say it. I’m proud of you, Gav,” I
told him. “I know this isn’t your dream job but I’m glad you’re moving on.”

His
sudden frown had me regretting my last statement.
Stupid!

He
inhaled and then sighed. “It’s no major league game, but whatever. It is what
it is.”

“What’s
a commercial building? Is it a store to buy toys from TV?” asked Rocco as the
oven dinged – time to put in the pizzas.

“Uncle
Gavin will explain.” I turned back to the kitchen to make dinner for my guys.
Baby
steps
, Laney,
baby steps
.

***

My
phone rang an hour later. Gavin was busy holding a giggling Rocco upside-down
in the living room and shaking him to get the pizza to reappear. I was adding
the dishes to the growing pile in the sink telling myself I’d get to them
later. The number on the caller ID was unfamiliar, but I pressed Accept.

“Hello?”

“Oh
hi. Is this Laney Monroe?”

“Yes.”

“This
is Mellie Jordan from Cornerstone Daycare. How are you?”

Rocco’s
daycare director.

“Oh
hi, Mellie! I’m good – how about you?” We exchanged pleasantries.

“I’m
just fine, Laney. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you at home. I was hoping to
catch you when you picked Rocco up this afternoon but I think I just missed
you. I wanted to touch base on a couple things – nothing’s wrong, so don’t
worry,” she reassured me.

“Okay,
what’s up?” I asked.

“Well,
first of all, I wanted to tell you that we all
love
Rocco here. He is
just such a sweet little guy.”

My
chest wanted to swell at this, but my motherly instincts were sensing a “but
sandwich” on the horizon –
your kid is great, but he’s pantsing all the
other kids on the playground and we’ll have to expel him, but did I tell you we
really think he’s great?

“But,”
Mellie continued.

Here
it comes.

“I’m
just the teensiest bit concerned about him, socially speaking,” Mellie said.

My
hand that wasn’t holding the phone went to my cheek and the rubbing began.

“He
seems to spend most of his time playing by himself and when we try to encourage
him to join in with some of the other kids he says he doesn’t want to,” she
continued.

Rub.

“I
wouldn’t mention it since he’s new to the school and I know kids can be shy,
but we just haven’t seen any improvement yet – I catch him looking at what
other kids are doing so I think he’s probably interested, but he won’t go that
next step. Sometimes one of us teachers will play with him to get the ball rolling
and he’ll talk to us just fine. But not with the other kids.”

Rub
rub.

“I’m
not trying to scare you or anything because this is probably something we’ll
look back on later and laugh about, but at his age he really should be engaging
in interactive play with other kids instead of parallel play we see with the
younger ones. I wanted to ask, does he have friends in the neighborhood or from
his old school he interacts with regularly? Am I just bothering you for
nothing?” She laughed lightly.

Rub
rub rub rub –
oh, Jesus Christ, somebody just bring me a loofah!

“Um,
hmm. Well, you see, Mellie, we just moved to a new neighborhood as well as the
new school and we really haven’t gotten a chance to meet too many people…” I
trailed off.

“Oh,
you poor thing – that
is
a lot of change all at once. Rocco probably
just needs a few more weeks to get in the swing of things, then. Is he getting
a chance to see any of his old friends?”

Crap.
How did one explain this?
Of course my five-year-old has friends! There’s
his uncle who is great fun and is always offering to share his Playboy
collection. Sure, his brain could probably be traded with an orangutan and
nobody would notice, but who doesn’t like monkeys, right? And then there are
Rocco’s grandparents!  His grandma lets him help grade exams and tells him all
sorts of interesting tidbits about late twentieth century American history –
what kid doesn’t love to chat about Vietnam?! Let’s not forget Grandpa either –
he takes Rocco to the Farm and Fleet to talk to the three fingered manager about
riding mowers, because that guy is the one to ask about machines with sharp
blades. And, sure, a couple of these besties just moved four hours away, but
there’s always Skype and everyone knows that is interactive as hell – nothing
parallel in sight!

Rub.

Yeah,
that wasn’t going to go over well. Time to fess up.

“The
truth is, Mellie, what you’re talking about has pretty much always been the
case. He’s not really been into kids his own age. He’s an only child and has
always seemed content to hang out with adults. I’ve tried not to worry about it
before. I guess I just hoped it would resolve on its own.”
How could I have
missed this apparently huge red flag?

“I
understand. And, again, I don’t want you to worry. But maybe we could try to
help things along a little more. Why don’t you ask him if there is a child in
the class he would want to have a play date with? Then you could arrange it at
your house so Rocco would be more comfortable and see what happens from there,”
she suggested.