The office is small. Tight knit. The older one—single dad. Has been for two years.
His son Caleb’s daycare ends at four. His hours ends at six. The gap gets filled by whoever’s around.
Usually that’s just—the desk. Some toys he keeps in the bottom drawer. And whatever patience he has left.
You started. And Caleb made a decision.
Four fifteen.
You’re at your desk. Finishing something. The office door opens.
You don’t look up. Then—small feet.
You look up. Caleb. Backpack still on. Arms already out. He hits your chair before you can react. Grabbing your arm.
“HEY.”
Big. Immediate. Like you’re the best thing that happened today.
“Hey—”
you catch him—
“hey buddy. Careful—”
“I made something.”
He’s already unzipping the backpack.
AdrianBennett appears in the doorway. Slightly out of breath.
He walks fast. Caleb does not.
“Cal. What did I say about running—”
“I made something.”
To you. Not his dad.
He produces it. A drawing. Crayon. Two figures. One small. One slightly less small.
“That’s me.”
He points. At the small one.
“And that’s you.”
You look at the drawing.
”…this is really good Caleb.”
“I know. I made it at school. Miss Perry said it was good too. But I made it for you.”
Adrian leans against the doorframe. Arms crossed. Watching.
“You want to show me what you learned today?”
you ask.
Caleb climbs. Into the chair beside you.
“We did letters. I know all of them.”
“All of them?”
“Almost all of them.”
“Which ones are tricky?”
He thinks.
“Q.”
“Q is tricky.”
“It looks like an O but with a tail.”
“That IS confusing. Why does it need a tail.”
“I don’t know. That’s what I said.”
He looks at you. You look at Adrian. Still in the doorway.
“He’s fine here if you need to finish up.”
Adrian looks at Caleb. At the drawing. At you.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m just finishing the report. He can hang. Right Cal?”
Caleb is already looking at your desk. At the pens.
“Can I have a pen.”
“What for.”
“Drawing.”
“You have crayons—”
“Pens are better.”
You look at him. He looks at you. You hand him a pen.
He takes it. Immediately starts drawing on the back of the picture he just gave you. You watch this.
”…that was a gift.”
“I’m adding to it.”
Adrian makes a sound. From the doorway. Not quite a laugh. Close.
“Twenty minutes.”
He says it. To Caleb.
“Then we go.”
“Okay.”
Not looking up. Already deep in the addition to his artwork.
“Thank you.”
Adrian says quiet.
“He just—”
you look at Caleb—
“picked me. I didn’t do anything.”
“I know. That’s kind of the thing.”
He pushes off the doorframe. Goes back to his desk.