“That it is,” I laugh.
Alison puts a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans in front of me. It looks delicious, like something I’d get in a diner, but more wholesome. She watches nervously as I take a bite.
The flavors blindside me, so much more than I exp
ected. “This is great,” I say honestly and take another bite. I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until now.
A television plays in the living room and I feel myself relax. This is the atmosphere you see on television, the American life you see on sitcoms. A life I didn’t even know was real until now. A life I didn’t know I needed until recently.
We chitchat about Hux’s school and the paper Alison just finished, but we stay away from the election. I’m grateful for that. Bringing that poison into this room would be wrong. It’s so real and pure in this kitchen that I want to preserve it.
“Time to do dishes,” Hux announces, taking my plate and going to the sink. I watch his little body move around—filling the sink, adding the bubbles, getting his towel laid out to catch the wet dishes.
Alison watches me with as much curiosity as I watch him. She raises her brows and I consider my next move, but know what I want to do.
Standing, I take off my watch and place it on the table. I roll my sleeves back to the elbows while I head towards Hux. He looks at me over his shoulder.
“You don’t have to help me,” he grins. “I do the dishes every night. It’s my job.”
“I’d like to help you, if you don’t mind,” I say, trying to figure out how to join into this perfected assembly he has going on. “I’ve never done this before.”
He nearly drops a plate. “What?”
I shrug. “We had people that did it for us.”
“Can we get people, Mom?”
Alison laughs, tucking her legs beneath her on the chair. “Sorry. No people for us,” she tells him.
I want to interject that I want them to have people, my people. That one day, sooner rather than later if I can help it, I want our lives merged. I want to take care of them, have a little slice of this life for myself and give them the privileges of mine. But not yet. Not until this mess of a campaign is behind me. And then we’ll go forward.
I look at Huxley, who’s grinning at me.
As a family.
I grin back.
“A couple of moms were volunteering in my class today,” Huxley announces. “They asked me about you.”
I take a soapy plate from him and rinse it under the water. He motions for me to put it on the towel, so I do.
“They did, huh?” I say. “What did you say?”
“I just told them that I did know you and you were a nice guy. But I needed to study and gossiping isn’t really a nice thing to do.”
“Since when do you not gossip?” Alison asks. “I remember you coming home this afternoon telling me all about how Patrick stole the pen out of Nina’s desk.”
“That’s not gossip, Mom,” he says, rolling his eyes. “That’s fact.”
“Either way,” I tell him, taking a glass, “I appreciate your loyalty and not saying anything.”
He shrugs, but the corner of his lip twitches. “Speak as you find. And, well, you’re like family now, kind of. And we protect each other. We don’t let each other get bullied and that’s what I felt like they were doing—getting information they could use against you.”
I glance over at Ali, my heart stilled in my chest that this little boy would think of me as family. She bites her lip, looking like she’s trying not to cry, so I try to change the topic for the sake of us all.
“So, tomorrow night I thought maybe you guys could come over to my house. I don’t cook, but you know . . .”
“You have people,” Hux laughs.