Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

WATCHING THEZigler kids was a cakewalk. Wesley had feared that after all they’d been through, they’d be a bit more maladjusted. But maybe that was the difference a good father could make.

Wesley and Kyle had been friends since they were kids—he’d been a regular at the ol’ Munn bookstore and Lloyd, apparently ignorant of child labor laws, usually had twelve-year old Wesley working the register. Kyle had gone through a phase of reading the classics—the ones that were continuously made into new films and referenced in video games. Having grown up with Lloyd as a father, Wesley was an unwilling expert in all the literary greats.

“Hey, Zigler, Austen’s great, but once you’ve read a few, you’ve read them all.”

“They actually have a Swedish version of Dracula that I like better. They tried to play it off as a ‘translation’ but this guy essentially rewrote the book entirely.”

“Tolstoy? I mean, if you’re having trouble getting to sleep….”

As they got older, Kyle and Wesley constantly spent time at each other’s houses, either playing video games or reading in quiet contentment in the attic, sprawled on the floor. Kyle figured out how to set up a website for the bookstore, which meant Lloyd was forever, albeit begrudgingly, in his debt.

Kyle had kept up maintenance of the website over the years, not even requesting payment for updates or expansions. Though Wesley still got the occasional phone call of, “Hey, Wes, can you explain to your dad that the website will be down for maintenance and that it’s not Bezos himself hijacking his business to sell audiobooks? I’m tired.”

Zach buried his nose in a comic book for most of the night, and Alice was perfectly content playing board games with Wes. The only thing that could’ve made it more enjoyable was if Alice would let him win a game.

“That’s cruel, you know. Any tyrant knows the got to give their subjects enough slack so they can at least hold on to false hope.”

Alice raised an eyebrow. She looked so much like Kyle right then that Wes laughed aloud.

Kyle came home at about half past ten. “Hey, guys. Wes, do you mind hanging out for just a bit longer? I have to take a shower.” He was in a hurry, a flurry of excitement and tension Wes hadn’t seen in him in a long time.

“Sure,” Wes answered. “How cold do you need that shower to be?”

That earned a warning look from Kyle before he disappeared. Wes sipped his beer, his first of the night. He’d won that round.

“Was Dad on a date?” Zach asked hushedly, lowering his comic.

Wesley nodded. “There’s a blond guy in the Snow Circus he’s been seeing. He thought he was being slick about it, but my old school buddy, Amber, told me she’s seen Kyle at that same scarf booth for about two weeks now.”

Alice paused from separating the red and the black checkers back into the box. “Is he nice?”

“I hope so,” Wes answered honestly. “I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to him yet. I hope it works out, though.”

Alice nodded slowly. “Hey, Uncle Wes?”

“Yes, Alice?”

Her brow was furrowed. “Can you take us to the Snow Circus? While Dad’s at work on Monday?”

Wesley frowned. “Well, I think when it’s time to meet your dad’s new beau, he’d be the one bringing you.”

Alice was never the type of kid to give up easily. “I’m curious. Besides, Dad hasn’t taken me yet.”

“Yeah,” Zach chimed in. “I want to go too.”

Kyle had discussed Wesley keeping an eye on the kids throughout the week. It’d be better than Lloyd watching them full-time. Wesley knew from experience how that could add to their eventual years in therapy.

“Sure,” he said finally. “What’s the harm?”

VIC SPENTthe next two days swinging between euphoric delight and deep embarrassment.

It was a place he wasn’t unfamiliar with. It sat right at the crossroads of grandiose gloating and exaggerated self-deprecation, which was his usual territory.

Before he moved—for the sixth time, anyway—he had looked his reflection dead in the eye and told himself that he wasn’t going to fall for anyone else. Especially not the literal first attractive guy to pay him any attention.

Well… not just attention. Kyle saw him. He was able to look past the joking, the flash, the charisma and not only see him but make him feel like he’d never had anything to hide.

Fine. Maybe he could break his rule.

Kyle already told him he wouldn’t be available Sunday. He was spending it with his family, and Vic had promised Valerie to hit a movie with her.

Vic logged in to his merchant site while drinking his morning coffee. He doubted that Kyle had been able to do much in the few days he had access, but he was curious.

His website loaded more quickly than usual, and Vic stared at it.

The main page header was spelled out in thread graphics, tasteful on the pearlescent white fabric background. The text that used to jump out of those unwieldy white boxes and trail off into the graphics flowed seamlessly onto the site—every bit as elegant as Vic himself.

Oh, Vic thought. You’ve made me your priority. Such a gentleman.

By the time Valerie came to pick him up he’d scoured the new website for clues. Surely that level of care and attention, that much artistry and style proved that Kyle felt the way he did, as much as he did. Worrying and wondering this much about someone felt amazing and awful, but he couldn’t stop himself. To be honest, he didn’t want to stop.

Vic and his sister enjoyed the horror film, continuing their sibling tradition of making fun of them. She didn’t press him for information. Vic didn’t know why he was afraid to tell her. Maybe what he and Kyle started was too fragile, liable to shatter to pieces if he spoke about it aloud.

Then it was Monday.

Kyle, like clockwork these days, showed up at twelve-fifteen on the dot.

“I love what you’ve done with the website!” Vic gushed. “I know we talked about some of the graphics and all, but I was blown away by how it looks.”

“Aw, man. Excellent. So it’s all working for you. And it reflects the brand you’re creating?” Kyle asked earnestly.

“Are you kidding?” Vic’s voice cracked. “I think you know my brand better than I do.”

Kyle beamed at him. For one second he could almost imagine they were back inside the giant snow globe, kissing each other in the cold.

The time between Saturday and their dinner date on Wednesday dragged interminably, but they made do. Some of Vic’s vendor friends caught on and gave Kyle the merchant’s discount on their lunches.

Still riding high after the lunch rush, Vic was adjusting his display of scarves to frame the metalwork butterfly statue with the stained-glass wings—not for sale, but to advertise his other work. He’d just cleared off a space when a young girl caught his eye.

“Hi,” the girl said.

Vic scanned the area for the girl’s potential guardian. “Hey, kiddo,” he greeted her, trying to modulate his tone for the average preteen. “You’re not lost, are you? Where’s your mom?”

The girl was silent.

Vic looked back at her and froze.

It was uncanny. Those same eyes as Kyle’s, the sort that looked like the light was hitting a labradorite just right, stared back at him through a little girl’s face.

Only then could he take in the other details. Her dark, wavy hair, a younger boy resembling her by her side. And the iridescent dragonfly scarf wrapped around her neck.

Suddenly, the question he’d innocently asked was the most horrific gaffe that had ever been committed in the universe.

Alice Zigler, to her credit, didn’t miss a beat. “You know, the same question haunted America, like, three years ago.”

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” Vic had never pictured what meeting Kyle’s kids would be like, but screwing up that badly within the first few seconds was worse than anything he might have imagined.

To his relief—and mild irritation—Alice was holding back laughter. “It’s okay. It was actually kinda funny.”

“You didn’t mean it,” the boy said. His thick glasses magnified his dark eyes, his hair the exact likeness of his father’s, like something from a Greek statue.

Vic wasn’t quite sure what to do. Apologize again? Let the subject drop? Go into witness protection?

Alice, thankfully, took the reins. “Dad doesn’t know we’re here. We’re just stopping by. I really like the scarf you made.”

“Oh.” It took a moment for his manners to buffer. “Thank you, er—Alice, right?”

“Yeah. Like in Wonderland. And this is Zach. Like Wackadoodle.” Alice’s hand toyed with the back of her hair. Her dad had the same nervous tic. “I also wanted to come meet you because Dad’s been so much happier lately and it’s cool to see.”

Zach nodded. “One time, I even heard him singing while he was making breakfast.” He stared down at his shuffling feet. “Are you two, like, in love?”

In love.It seemed childish, the way he said it. But then again….

“Shhh.” Alice scolded, nudging her brother’s side. “You’re gonna scare him away.”

“I’m not—scared,” Vic said haltingly. “I just….” He didn’t know how to end that sentence. Especially with the dread growing in young Zach’s large brown eyes.

“I don’t want Dad to be sad again,” Zach protested, nudging his sister back. He gazed up at Vic, looking so much like Kyle in that moment. That sincere, open vulnerability. “You’re not going to do anything weird or mean, right?”

“I… I hope not,” Vic croaked.

“Alice! Zach!” An adult appeared from the crowd and stopped. “Oh.” Vic recognized him as one of the regular patrons—a thickly-built man with black hair down to his shoulders, a goatee, and a facial expression somewhere between smarmy and genial. He held out two cardboard boats of cheesy fries. “I told you to stay close.” He didn’t sound angry, just vaguely exasperated.

“Sorry, Uncle Wes,” Alice murmured. She looked up at Vic. “It was good to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Vic,” he responded automatically. “Vic Burgess.”

Uncle Wes, as the kids called him, extended a fist to be bumped once his hands were free of cheesy fries. “I’m Wesley Munn. I’ve been Kyle’s friend for, like, twenty years.”

Vic froze. Both kids, and now a childhood best friend? What was next, a concerned grandmother, a therapist, and his ninth-grade gym teacher? He couldn’t help but feel he was being evaluated by a well-intentioned committee. “I, uh….”

“Vic!” Gloria called. He had never been so glad to hear Gloria’s voice. The wig of the day was a riot of pastels, with pale lavender and blue split down the middle. Black cat ears poked out of it, and two babydolls’ heads dangled from her ears. “Will you get me my purse from storage? My ankle’s been acting up, and I don’t want to walk all the way over there.”

“Ahh—be right back.” Vic didn’t hang around to see the reactions from his three inquisitors. He evacuated the market as if it were on fire.

When he returned, Alice, Zach, and Wesley were gone.

The relief that coursed through him made him rethink everything.

Those kids were undoubtedly the most precious things in Kyle’s life, yet they’d turned Vic into a floundering ball of tension until they were out of his sight.

Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this.

The paranoia that gripped him the rest of the day seemed dramatic, bordering on absurd. And that was by Vic’s standards.

He was tempted to grill Gloria about what happened after Vic fled. Did Alice announce that she thought Vic was a loser, that she would tell her father as soon as she got home? Were they taking bets on whether Vic would leave Kyle high and dry, with or without a Dear John note?

Good heavens, they’re children. You need to stop.

It got so bad that Vic felt a pang of dread every time he laid his eyes on the iridescent dragonfly scarf in his display. ‘Where’s your mom?’ Ugh.

“Hey, uh—Gloria. You said you have a son, right?”

The evening was drawing to a close, and both Gloria and Vic were packing up their stock. Gloria had commented several times during the afternoon that Vic seemed quiet, to the point that she could be afraid a Vic Burgess lookalike had taken his place. “Why? Are you trying to put together a threesome?”

“Very funny.” Gloria surely expected a follow-up, but he hardly knew where to begin. Luckily, one thing Gloria had always been talented at was filling silences.

“I do have a son,” she said. “His name’s Brock. He went to school to become a vet tech. He’s going to visit next week.”

Vic stacked the boxes of scarves over one another, making sure they would all fit under his table during the night. “Did you always want to be a parent?”

“Oh Christ, no!” Gloria laughed. “I was just out of college. Single, working, too many wild weekends and late-night concerts. Then, suddenly, I was pregnant. My birth control failed.” Vic winced. “I don’t know what made me want to give it a try. Maybe it was the hormones, but I wanted to at least see what would happen. My mom hadn’t done the best job raising me—always left me alone to go out with her boyfriends. My sisters and I raised ourselves. I think a part of me wanted to give my son all the love that I never had, like I was righting the universe in some way.”

Despite himself, Vic smiled. “You weren’t—I mean, you had to put your life on hold, didn’t you?”

“Put what on hold?” Gloria crossed her arms. “Vic, having a kid isn’t house arrest. Things changed, yes, but I had just as much fun as I would have otherwise. Maybe more.”

Vic stayed quiet, letting this process. He thought about all the parents he’d heard talk about kids, usually using the word sacrifice as if they’d been thrown into the mouth of a volcano. “How do you keep from setting a bad example? Kids are impressionable. You have to be a certain kind of wholesome, right?”

Gloria shook her head. “That would’ve been news to Brock.” She pulled down the rolled-up front flap to her tent as she talked. “I brought him along to brunch to gossip with the girls, mimosas included. He was just happy to have hashbrowns and orange juice. Kids, especially when they get older, are more perceptive than a lot of people think. They’re influenced by what they want to be. And I wanted to be his friend—my kid ended up being a cool kid, someone I liked hanging out with. He was my little buddy—and I was his friend with veto power.”

Vic chewed on his lip. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to having kids look up to me. I couldn’t even keep an egg in non-scrambled condition for that one project in health class.”

“You know who else has kids?” Gloria planted her hands on her hips. One of the baby doll heads swiveled on its hook, looking at Vic with what he could swear was skepticism. “Ozzy Osbourne. Gene Simmons. Vin Diesel. And don’t even get me started on Nick Cannon.”

Gloria made him laugh at that, which was probably her goal. Vic broke away from his booth, tying the tent closed. He almost jumped when he turned to find Gloria inches behind him. “It’s okay to be a bit scared, honey. You like that guy, don’t you? Those two little ones are pieces of him, growing up in the world. They keep people young.”

She had a point. Kids were people. They weren’t an egg, set up to fail, to break under the clumsy hands of humans. They weren’t one of those robot babies designed to scream at three a.m.

Maybe he could handle this. He’d just have to take it one step at a time.

KYLE ENDEDup apologizing for Alice and Zach showing up unannounced.

“I wanted to introduce you, obviously, but Alice…. Well, she’s always been one to take initiative.”

They sat side by side during their next lunchtime meet-up. The evening in the snow globe hadn’t been brought up since. It was if they were both guarding it, a secret too precious to risk withering in the sun.

“Oh, it was fine.” Vic didn’t lie. He’d had to survive a minor anxiety attack to be fine, but Kyle didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll bring them with me sometime,” Kyle suggested. “Maybe we can go ice-skating together.”

Vic played at rolling his eyes. “Oh, then all three of you can poke fun at me.”

As they had on Monday and again on Tuesday, they reconfirmed the time and location for that night’s dinner, as if either of them were at risk of forgetting.

Vic admitted to as much cautious hope as he’d felt in a long time.

Maybe he was ready for a change.