Page 21

TWENTY-ONE

“Poppy! Look at the giraffe.” Lia skips between us, clasping Kent’s hand as we walk on the sidewalk. What if she wants to hold mine at some point? I pat the small bottle of hand sanitizer in my front pocket.

My heart races and I hope the drawn look of astonishment on my face doesn’t betray how fucking amazing this surprise is to me. Had he planned this with Lia all along, or was this something for me? My hand finds Kent’s shoulder. A quick squeeze is all I’m able to get in with Lia between us, but I hope it conveys how over the moon I am about this.

“His name is Gio,” I say. The giant, twenty-foot giraffe, made completely of LEGO DUPLO bricks, took an entire day to assemble. According to the article I read when the center opened, they constructed it using over 22,000 bricks. I close my eyes for a moment and think of being part of creating something so monumental.

“Gio?” Lia asks.

“Yeah, he was named after a little boy who—” I pause, wondering if she needs to hear the story about the boy who died of congestive heart failure. “—really loved LEGO.”

“Vincent loves LEGO more than … well, almost anything, I think,” Kent says. “I thought this would be fun for both of you.”

As we get closer to Gio, the sign behind him comes into view: LEGO Discovery Center. I have been itching to come here since they reopened last year after a twelve-million-dollar renovation. That would buy a lot of LEGO. Thinking about what awaits us inside, my pulse quickens, and my insides vibrate like my electric razor skimming over my scalp.

“I’ve wanted to come here … well, since forever,” I say.

“Why haven’t you?” Kent tilts his head.

“Technically, it’s for kids. And you need a child to get in. I thought about asking Marvin. He could bring Illona and let me tag along, but it’s a long drive and, well … Illona doesn’t really love LEGO.”

Lia reaches up, pulls at my fingers, and says, “Well, I do. I mean enough.” She smiles, attempting to show me every tooth in her tiny mouth. “I mean, we’re here!”

We buy our tickets and I wait outside the men’s room, while Kent takes Lia to the bathroom. Inside the elevator, vibrant LEGO decor surrounds us as we ascend to the top floor. Lia grabs my hand and says, “I washed after. Real good. Poppy helped me.”

I smile at her and then Kent, and he shrugs. Right now, I am about to spend the day around LEGO. With a bottle of sanitizer, bathrooms everywhere, and Kent with me, I’ve got this. I exhale deeply, and Kent asks, “You okay?”

“More than okay. I can’t believe you did this.”

“I’ve been thinking about bringing Lia here.” Kent shrugs. “As soon as you agreed to join us, I knew this had to be today’s adventure.”

The urge to pull him close consumes me. When the elevator doors open, Lia bolts out, running toward the Build Your Mini Figure attraction, and I clasp Kent’s hand for a moment.

“Thank you.”

“You already thanked me.”

“I know. I may never stop.”

We catch up to Lia and help her pick parts for her mini figure. Kent and I both make our own as well. Giant bins are filled to the brim with hundreds of different variations of components. As she searches, Lia runs her hands through the head bin, creating a cascade of LEGO heads.

“This one is me,” she says. She holds a small head with pink and blue glasses and a huge grin. “When I’m wearing my sunglasses.”

“I see it,” Kent says.

Continuing to dig and search, Lia finally hands another to Kent.

“Here, Poppy.”

She hands a piece to Kent. It has glasses, a gray beard, a kind face, and a sweet smile. She couldn’t have picked a more perfect match.

“Oh my, do I look like this?” Kent holds the head up.

“Exactly,” I say, with a wink.

“Let’s find one for Vincent,” Kent says.

“Okay! I’m a good head picker,” she says. Kent and I share a smile, and maybe if I’m surrounded by LEGO, children aren’t so terrible.

“Here!” she shouts, holding it up for our inspection. The head has a snarky smirk and furrowed eyebrows. It’s almost like it can’t decide if it’s worried or carefree.

“Perfect,” Kent says, winking at me. “Now, let’s find hair.”

“That will be easy for you, Vincent,” Lia says. “You don’t need any.”

She giggles, pausing her trek to the massive bin of hair pieces to bend over with laughter and relish her own joke.

“I think she likes you,” Kent says as we follow a few feet behind her.

I hold my mini-fig head between my thumb and index finger and show him. Mini Vincent smirks with crooked brows.

“Really?”

“She’s teasing you. That’s her love language.”

We stand behind Lia as she turns over what appears to be thousands of pieces of plastic hair, taking the entire place in. “I think LEGO is my love language.”

“Noted.” Kent bumps his shoulder on mine.

With our mini-figures intact, we explore the rest of the center. When we board the Kingdom Quest ride, climbing into a LEGO-themed cart on a track, we’re handed small plastic pink and purple guns. The voiceover instructs us to shoot to save the princess, but when we enter the harsh darkness of the main area, Lia climbs into my lap and cuddles into me.

“Are you scared, sweetheart?” Kent asks.

“Oh, I thought you were Poppy,” she says, her sweet breath on my chin.

“I’ve got you,” I say, wrapping my arms around her small body and holding her close. Her tiny frame in my arms must be the most precious and delicate thing I’ve ever held.

The room comes to life with treasure chests that open and various other moving targets for us to fake shoot. A screen shows clips of the story. Something about a kidnapped princess, and even with the manufactured drama, the change in lighting seems to settle Lia. She turns around but stays firmly on me, her weight providing pressure on my torso that’s oddly soothing. We shoot at skeletons, spiders, and various animatronic creatures, Lia never leaving the protection of my lap.

After saving the princess, we disembark and head to the vast open building area. Inside the room, there’s a towering LEGO tree that stretches all the way to the ceiling, adorned with hidden nooks and crannies showcasing incredible creations.

“Vincent, look!” Lia tugs at my hand. “A unicorn.”

I kneel to see what the fuss is about, and a princess, queen, or someone who looks vaguely royal and important sits atop a white unicorn in the hole Lia’s spying.

When I spot a massive building table covered in LEGO mountains, excitement builds inside me. Eager to create, my fingers twitch. “Let’s go build.”

Holding all three of our mini-figures, Lia tells a story. When I kneel to watch closer, Kent rests his hands on my shoulders, gently kneading as we listen.

“Let’s go to the LEGO center for Vincent,” Lia says, doing her best to imitate Kent’s deep voice. “Vincent loves LEGO, and I love Vincent because he’s my boyfriend. Even though I said he was my friend. But Mommy said boyfriend.”

Kent’s fingers massage my shoulders, and I can’t help but smile at Lia’s ability to perceive what’s growing between her grandfather and me. Does Kent love me? He certainly loves parts of me. Sharing meals even though I always order the same thing. Cuddling and kissing. What I did to his cock with my feet last night. His finger exploring my ass. Having me suck him off. But me? All of me? I’m not sure if anyone’s capable of loving me entirely.

“And I love you,” Lia says, changing her tone to a slightly less deep tone, her attempt at … me. “And LEGO, and now I might think I love Lia. She’s a nice little girl.”

A laugh escapes my lips because this sweet child, who adores her grandfather beyond measure, simply wants me to love her.

“She is,” Kent says, moving toward his granddaughter and kissing the top of her head.

After Lia’s dramatic play with our minis, we head to the café for a quick bite. Kent brings Lia to the bathroom again because four-year-olds apparently need to pee more than I realized. I buy slices of cheese pizza for each of us and find a booth. They have dispensers with napkins and I grab the largest stack I’ve had in a long time. Something tells me eating with Lia will be its own adventure.

When they return and settle in, I head to wash up myself. The bathrooms are LEGO-inspired, with LEGO handles on the urinals and sink, and I wonder how challenging it must be to keep all the crevices clean. As I scrub and wash, I catch my reflection in the giant mirror.

For a split second, I see myself as a stranger. My shiny bald head. My hazel eyes and long eyelashes Kent seems so fond of. For forty, I’m fit enough, and I’m … handsome. Maybe this is what Kent sees? But my appearance isn’t the problem. It’s me. Inside. My brain. My compulsions. The warm water continues to embrace my hands, only to be abruptly cut off by the sudden stop of the automatic faucet. One more hit to rinse again, and I dry my hands and head back to join Kent and Lia.

We feast on the salty pizza and Lia, surprisingly, doesn’t make a massive mess. There’s pizza sauce and cheese over most of her mouth, but she wipes every few bites and when we finish, Kent grabs a wet wipe from his bag and she does a fairly good job cleaning herself before he gives her a final once-over. As I observe their interaction, a warmth washes over me, touched by his sweetness and patience. He’s a genuinely good man.

We spend another hour on various LEGO-themed activities. I help Lia make a rocket, and then a machine scans and projects it on an enormous screen while we use it to play a game of shooting asteroids. There’s a LEGO replica of Boston that’s easily ten times as big as my Paris, but hey, they have the space and a team of professional builders. After a quick visit to the gift shop, where Lia buys a LEGO set from a recent princess movie, we head to Kent’s car.

“Will you help me put it together?” Lia asks, clutching the box to her chest in her car seat.

“Maybe Mommy or Daddy want to help,” Kent says, driving us back toward the highway.

“No way. They’d get flustrated.”

“Do you mean frustrated?” I ask.

“Or flustered?” Kent asks. “It means nervous.”

Lia shrugs and repeats, “Flustrated. I want Vincent to help me. He’s patient.”

Patient. Nobody’s ever called me that, but I suppose I can be. I certainly was today.

I glance back toward her and smile. “You’re easy to be patient with.”

Kent starts up the music, and Lia sings along, but it only takes three songs before she passes out. Resting my head back, I glance out the window, watching the giant cables of the Zakim Bridge. My eyes grow heavy as they fly by, creating a pattern of light.

“Are you tired?” Kent rubs his palm over my thigh. “Close your eyes.”

I respond by placing my hand on top of his, ensuring it stays put. He went out of his way to make this day special for me.

“Thank you.”

“You have to stop thanking me,” he says.

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think I do.”

Wrapping my fingers around Kent’s hand, I hold it until, exhausted by the tremendous joyful experience, I doze off after the most amazing Kent, Lia, and LEGO-filled day.