Battle

“Thank you,” I smile. “That’s good to know.”

“Would you like to try some?”

“I would, but I promised your brother I’d eat a sandwich first.” I roll my eyes as though I’m mocking Battle. She giggles. “I tell you what, if you eat a sandwich with me, I’ll eat fruit snacks with you.”

Her lip works back and forth as she ponders my offer. She’s on to my game. I expect her to decline, but she smiles and says, “Okay.”

Battle sets plates on the table and pushes one in front of Erinn. She eats her turkey sandwich without argument. I try not to smile at the thought that Erinn seems to be the one person on the planet capable of challenging the Battle McCoy.

After lunch, Battle clears the table and Erinn wastes no time tearing open a packet of fruit snacks. She organizes them on the table by color. I follow her lead and do the same.

“Now what?” I ask.

She slides the piles around until they’re in a row, lightest to darkest. “Light to dark,” she says. “I like to eat them light to

dark.” I make a similar row with mine. She laughs and says, “You have orange with yellow. You can’t have orange with yellow.”

“Oh. Of course, how silly of me,” I say, palming my forehead.

I glance up to Battle, smiling at the two of us. I smile back, and he winks at me. I return my attention to Erinn and my carefully arranged snacks. “Can we eat them now?”

She hums, her long brown hair flying through the air as she shakes her head.

“We have to count them first.”

And we do, making certain all the piles contain four snacks. The extras are pushed aside. Once our piles are exactly perfect, we eat them, light to dark.

They’re ridiculously sweet, and not as good as I remember them being when I was a kid. I keep my opinions to myself, and enjoy the unadulterated smile on Erinn’s adorable face. If only life were as pure and as simple for everyone as it is for Erinn. Maybe it could be if people didn’t like to complicated things so much.

A door bells sounds out in the house.

“That would be Mom,” Battle says.

Erinn scoops up her remaining fruit snacks, including the extras, and leaves to collect her things. Battle goes to answer the door.

“Hello, darlin’.” I hear a female voice I assume is his mother.

“Hey, Mom. She went to get her things.”

“Did you get all your finances sorted out?”

“Yes.”

“Good, and you need to have a Will drawn up. It’s important, you know.”

“Yes, Mom, I know.”

“How’d pick up go?” she asks.

“Same as it always does.”

She laughs. “I hope you were polite to Mrs. Jacoby.”

“I tried, but I still think we should discuss placing Erinn in a specialized school.”

“We can talk later. I’m so tired, and James is waitin’.”

I wonder who James is, and further, how a mother can be too tired to discuss her own child. Maybe I’m being judgmental, but Battle is obviously stressed. She could take ten minutes to talk about it. Eavesdropping isn’t polite, but I have nowhere to go. I can hear every word.