Page 34 of Foxed Up

Apparently it wasn't even funny anymore, according to my hip and modern son...

Eli looked at Wallace with big eyes. "Do you want to come along?"

Wallace shrugged. "I can. Or you guys can be alone if you want. I'm fine either way. I have a book to read."

I could picture him now, curled up in my bed, nose in a book, hair astray, wearing pajamas with little cartoon foxes on them. Why my imagination went there I couldn't tell you. The thought made me smile, though.

"You can pick out something to try, too, if you go along," said Eli magnanimously. He looked up at me shyly, his face shining. He had the look of a kid who desperately wants to play matchmaker so his father is happy. I hoped he wasn't putting that pressure on himself, or on this relationship.

My son was almost scarily aware. He had an intuitive emotional intelligence way beyond any other area of his development. Sometimes it hurt him: I couldn't really hide from him when I was sad, no matter how hard I tried. He was deeply attuned to emotions, and sometimes blamed mine on himself.

"He can pick out something, right, Daddy?"

"Of course," I told Eli, and Wallace. "We'd be glad to have you come along."

Wallace gave me a shy look, and a little nod. There was something grateful and sweet in his eyes, like he was starting to believe in us all over again.

He and Eli sat at the kitchen table and worked on the non-math homework while I threw together the meal. It was quick and easy, and I listened with half an ear as Eli asked questions and Wallace answered. They both surprised me more than once with the things they ended up discussing.

Then they took turns reading paragraphs from the history book, with pauses for plenty of questions from Eli. I knew history wasn't his favorite topic, but he seemed to have a world of questions saved up for Wallace. Was it because Wallace was clever but his explanations still made sense to Eli? Or was it because he wasn't me, and Eli felt more comfortable asking questions for that reason? Maybe it was best if I didn't know…

They finished everything but the math and put away the schoolbooks to help set the table. We ate quickly, then went to the grocery store. Eli pushed the cart after promising to be careful and not bump into people, and Wallace carried a hand basket and wore a preoccupied, slightly dreamy look on his face. He had such an expressive face. Even when I couldn't tell what he was thinking, his eyes were arresting. Something today about him spoke of sorrow and hope and trying again, not giving up. It made me unspeakably happy.

"Do you like this one?" Eli's voice drew me out of my besotted stupor, and I tuned into what was going on. We were in the fresh food section, and he'd stopped the cart by a display. He stood on his tiptoes as he pointed up to the big green papayas.

"Yes, actually." Wallace sounded startled. "They're my favorite." He darted a look at me, questioning, as if to say "Did you tell him to say that?"

I gave him a tiny shake of the head, and he refocused on Eli.

"Me too!" Eli was saying, bouncing a little. "Let's get a big one."

"I think it's better to get a ripe one, so you can eat it right away," argued Wallace in a mellow voice, giving Eli a fond look. "For instance, this one smells ripe." He touched one of the medium-sized ones with skin that was turning orange.

"Get both," I suggested, and Eli did. He bagged them himself; I loved watching him get puffed up and proud of himself for being able to wrangle groceries. The kid felt so incompetent at life sometimes; it was great to share this with him, to see him taking responsibility for picking healthy foods and liking it.

"Do you think…" began Wallace, standing next to me, his voice hesitant. Then he stopped. I never found out what he was going to say. As I followed his gaze, I registered our old pal Quinn...with three little kids in tow.

He was pushing a small cart, and it had some fresh vegetables in it. As we stared, another little kid ran up to the cart and put some bread into the cart. The kids looked poor: ratty clothes, skinny arms and legs, shoes that looked like they should've been trashed and not jammed on feet they didn't fit anymore. But they also looked happy and excited, as bright-eyed as my kid, and glad to be spending time with their dad.

Was he really the father of those kids? Along with the little boy I'd seen him with before, two of these kids were white and one looked like he might have Mexican heritage. They all looked to be about six to eight years old.

Wallace had frozen beside me. As if sensing us, Quinn looked over, taking a slight nose-wrinkling sniff of the air. His gaze locked on us both, and he stilled. The kids immediately moved to stand behind him, as if for safety. They had the drill down pat.

For a moment, we three adults just stared. Eli was busy picking through the kiwis and humming to himself; he hadn't noticed. The kids peeked out from behind Quinn, their eyes bright and inquisitive. I saw one lift his nose and sniff the air cautiously. He wrinkled his nose and drew back a little, looking up at his father to gauge how they should act.

To my surprise, Quinn gave us a small smile and a nod that looked like...acknowledging thanks. Was this about the job he'd gotten back? I'd checked up on the situation; he'd gotten it back. I blinked and glanced at Wallace to see what he thought. Wallace had dropped his gaze, looking flustered and embarrassed.

Quinn said, "Come on, kids," and led his troop from the aisle. They followed without protest, marching after him, their eyes wide and curious about every kind of food around them. I watched them go, the youngest clinging to the edge of his shirt trustingly. Were they really all his kids, or was he designated caregiver for the neighborhood's under-tens?

Eli picked a kiwi up off the flood and looked quickly to see if I'd noticed.

"We drop it, we buy it, young man," I told him.

He bit his lip and nodded, fumbled for a bag, hanging his head a little.

"What was that about?" I refocused on Avery. He still looked embarrassed. "You know something I don't?"

That kicked him out of his stupor. He cast me a friendly, teasing look. "Whendon'tI?"