22. Heller

22

HELLER

I arrive at Max and Eli’s house at exactly four-thirty, which is when they like to serve Lark dinner. I texted ahead to ask if I could feed them tonight, so when I arrive Lark hasn’t started eating yet. They’re in their penguin form, their wings outstretched and trying to jump. They fall over and awkwardly try to stand again.

“That’s right, buddy. You can do it,” Eli says. He’s sitting on the floor next to Lark. His white T-shirt has jelly smeared across the front and a dab of what looks like gray fish paste on the shoulder.

Lark pauses, then does the tiniest of hops. Eli claps enthusiastically. “You did it!”

That’s when Lark turns their beak and notices me. They start waddling toward me, their body growing into a fuzzy white polar bear. They run on all fours until they reach me, and I scoop them up into my arms. I hold them tight, kissing the soft fur on their head. It seems so obvious now that I should be one of their fathers. They hold up their paw expectantly, and I kiss each of their toe beans, counting them as I go.

“Lark isn’t eating grapes anymore,” Eli says. “Just so you know. But they’re excited about applesauce. Which is good, because we bought a whole case of pouches six months ago that will probably go bad soon if we don’t eat them.”

“Would it be okay if I chipped in more for groceries? To help pay for Lark’s share?” I ask.

Eli shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Max is in charge of shopping for food. You could ask him how much we spend on Lark’s stuff.”

“Could I take Lark shopping for some clothes too?” I ask. I have bought clothing for Lark before, but not often. It felt like I was overstepping.

“Of course. Please do. They’re wearing eighteen months in some brands, but twenty-four months in others. I thought 2T was the same thing as twenty-four months, but apparently it’s not, so don’t make the same mistake I did. I don’t even know what 2T is. Doesn’t that sound like two years old to you? Anyway, I’m going to finish some notes on the class I’m teaching tonight. Max will be back around seven. We were hoping you could put Lark to bed before you head to the theatre? We thought that might be a good routine to get into for a while, since that seems to work for your schedule? We figured we could do the mornings and afternoons, but you could do dinner and bedtime? And if either one of us has other plans, we could juggle things around on a case by case basis.”

I can’t believe it. They’re going to let me do the bedtime routine every single night?

“Won’t you miss putting Lark to bed?” I ask.

“Yeah. But you’ll need us to watch them at night every once in a while, won’t you? My favorite part of the day with Lark is when they first get up in the morning. They’re so happy and excited for the day. I’d miss that more if I had to give it up.” Eli bends over and kisses Lark’s head. “Have a good night, kiddo. Dada Heller is going to feed you and put you to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Lark shifts to their human form. They’re getting big enough now that I have to adjust to the added weight. When they’re older, their polar bear form will be bigger than their human form, but now it’s the other way around. I grab for a blanket off the couch that we use for this exact purpose and cover their bottom.

“Bye-bye Dada,” Lark says. They open and shut their hands to wave goodbye.

Eli waves back. “Bye-bye, Lark. I love you.” He walks off down the hall toward his bedroom and closes the door.

“Are you hungry, Lark?” I ask.

They tap their mouth, which is the sign for eat. “Dada gone.”

“That’s right. Daddy Eli is working. Daddy Heller will make you dinner. Do you want some applesauce?”

They make the sign for eat again. It’s incredibly satisfying to carry them to the pantry and pick out some food for them. This will be our time together every day. I can ask Max to get certain things from the store when we figure out how much I owe them for groceries or ask to bring in stuff of my own.

I get to feed Lark every night. That still doesn’t seem real.

“Do you want some string cheese?” I ask.

“’Heese,” Lark repeats. It’s one of the few food items they can pronounce.”

“That’s right, cheese. Do you want some?”

Lark shakes their head. “No ‘heese. Appa.”

“Applesauce?”

“Appa.” They make the sign for eat.

“Okay. Let’s get you some applesauce. Do you want to have a sandwich with it?”

Lark makes the sign for eat again. It’s so fun now that they’re learning how to communicate. I bring them to the high chair and set them down in front of it. They like to climb in by themselves before I put the tray on.

“Dada gone,” Lark repeats as they climb up. I resituate the blanket to cover them and snap the tray in.

“That’s right. Daddy Eli is gone. But Daddy Heller is here.”

They smile up at me with a joy I feel too. It’s nice that it’s just us. At least until tomorrow morning, when Eli will be there for Lark long before I’ll get out of bed.

It’s nice that Lark has them too.

I open the pouch of applesauce and hand it to them. They take it from me eagerly and suck at the top.

“Mmmm. That looks good,” I say.

Lark holds out the applesauce to me. “Dada appa.”

I bend over and suck from the applesauce pouch that probably has Lark’s backwash and possibly some of the snot running down their upper lip. I don’t care. I think I’d eat almost anything if they offered it to me that way.

Lark tries to clap with the applesauce in one hand, then gets confused, so I clap for them. “Daddy Heller had some applesauce too.”

I find a tissue to wipe off their nose. Then they pee in their high chair, which I have to clean up too because it’s almost impossible to keep a diaper on a shifter kid who can turn into two animals of wildly different proportions. But I love every minute of it.

Just like my lunch with Sergey this afternoon, it’s a beginning of something new that I really want. Because people can change.

The last phase of my life was amazing. I don’t have any regrets. But I’m ready for a new phase—a phase that’s all about love.

I can’t wait to get started.