Page 16 of Foxed Up

"Is Keith one of the bullies?" asked Wallace sympathetically.

Eli thought about this. "No. But he's not...not one of the not-bullies, either. He'spopular."

"And a little bit mean, but not the worst?" suggested Wallace, no longer eating, spellbound by my son's school odyssey. He'd perhaps gotten more from Eli about school than I had in weeks.

"Yeah," said Eli, looking relieved someone got it. "'Cuz sometimes he's nice, but sometimes he's just mean enough to make the bullies laugh."

Wallace raised his head and met my gaze over the distance between us. "That sounds hard," he admitted to Eli.

"If you make them laugh it's okay," said Eli; "if you make them laugh about something else instead of being stupid. That's hard, though. It's hard to be smart about jokes and dumb about everything else."

Wallace thought about this. "I suspect you're very intelligent, because you ask so many questions and think about things. That's a sign of intelligence — a big one. It means you're willing to learn, and you put things together in your head in different ways to understand the world."

"Really?" asked Eli. He seemed willing to believe it when Wallace said he wasn't stupid, for some reason. He even sat up a little straighter. He'd been hunching during the conversation about bullies.

"Well, of course," said Wallace. "Think about it; what does a test prove? It proves you can memorize. It doesn't prove you canthink. There are a lot of highly educated people in the world who can behave in extremely stupid ways, because they don't challenge things — they won't go against the flow. They simply memorize accepted facts and believe that makes them intelligent. Or they get a piece of paper from a university that certifies a certain level of knowledge, and think that means they have nothing left to learn — and couldn't possibly be wrong about anything they have learned. People are always learning new things about the world, what makes it work and why. Memorizing doesn't teach people that — questions do. Questions that lead to investigation." He waved a plastic fork around. "Curiosity drives discovery, and persistence trumps memorization."

I could see Eli was lost. "Persistence — that means not giving up," I told him.

Eli cast me a nervous look. "Trump?" he asked, looking confused and a little scared. Even at nine, he couldn't escape the news and Trump's frequent mentions in it.

"Oh, sorry. That can mean something else entirely. I simply meant that not giving up, continuing to ask questions, in the long run means more than taking a test well, or memorizing something for school. Memorizing is only a tool." Wallace caught himself. "Er, sorry. I didn't mean to lecture you." He aimed his apology at Eli, and his smile was genuine.

"That's okay," said Eli, looking relieved he got to be generous — and also stop trying to understand big words now. He seemed to feel better about himself after what Wallace had said, however, so perhaps he'd followed the gist of it.

I could tell him till I was blue in the face that he was smart, but Wallace's little speech, uttered with conviction and determination about the nature of learning, seemed to mean more to him. Perhaps he thought I was too biased to be honest with him about whether he was dumb or not. Clearly, that kid from his class — and a few "remedy math" things — were a better judge than his own father.

"Let's talk about something else," said Wallace. He held up one of the cookies from the neatly arranged tray that Eli had been putting a dent into. (Normally, I'd limit his desserts, and he was taking full advantage of today's opportunities to load up on sweets. I shouldn't have bought so many.) "For instance, what's this one?" Wallace turned it over in his hands. Was he faking, or really interested? He seemed entranced. Before I could decide, or answer him, Eli spoke up proudly.

"Macadam nut!" He giggled after mispronouncing the word "macadamia."

Wallace stared at him for a second, mouth opening slightly in surprise. Then he laughed, too, and took a big bite, dropping crumbs all down the front of his clean shirt. "Mm, tastes just likeroad!"

The two of them thought that was hilarious. Eli almost fell off the bench laughing. An adult had gotten his joke, instead of correcting him on the pronunciation of macadamia nut.

Well, Wallace was officially good with my kid.

#

I got Eli packed off to bed eventually, although he was hyper and didn't want to go. He settled down eventually. I left him with a children's audio book playing, a white noise machine running, two nightlights, the three stuffed animals he was "too big" for during the daytime, and a liberal dosing of monster spray under the bed. And two more hugs and a glass of water. He really didn't want to go to bed.

Even when I went to turn the light off, lingering in the doorway for a moment, he looked up at me, still bright-eyed and wide awake. "Dad?" he said.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Can Wallace come over again soon?"

I tried not to grin too hard or pump a fist in the air. "I hope so. I'll ask him." If I hadn't messed things up too much already.

Finally, I got back out there. I was eager to have some grownup time. The meal had gone so well it left me feeling euphoric, but I really needed to talk to Wallace.

He'd set it all aside to charm the kiddo, and I was grateful for that, but I needed to do some groveling if I didn't want him to go cold again, distant and disappointed in me, and worst of all, hurt. Damn it, I didn't want to hurt the guy. I fuckin' loved him. Maybe I should say it more, and say a lot less to other people about him, until I could get it right.

Wallace was talking quietly with my mother at the kitchen table. I stopped for a second, a rush of happiness going through me at that sight, so quiet and friendly. It felt like he belonged here, talking over a cup of coffee, connecting with my mother as easily as he did with my son and me.

I walked up to them and smiled, putting my hands on his shoulders and giving a gentle squeeze. "Can I steal you away? Need to talk."

He didn't look at me. "Okay."