“God, listen to me,” he said under his breath. “Talking nonstop. Whining about my life when I should just be grateful I survived, right?”
“I don’t think it’s ever that simple.”
“Yeah, well,” he sighed. “At least now you know, when a reporter wants to call me a war hero, it’s a bunch of bull.” He laughed at the farce of it all. “To be honest, that day at the Rose Festival, for the ceremony with the mayor—I almost flaked out at the last minute. I only went through with it because my mom and aunt were so damn proud.”
Audra smiled. “I’d say they deserve to be.”
He brushed this off by looking away.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I’m really glad you went.”
He turned back to her, and from her eyes he seemed to understand: It was the only way they would have crossed paths. “Me too,” he said.
The answer sent a surge of warmth up her neck. It continued over her cheeks and widened her smile.
“Mom, can we eat?” Jack had rolled up to the table.
“Um, yeah,” she said, flustered, as he hopped off his scooter. “Grab a seat.” She had almost forgotten about the picnic she’d packed.
Jack sat down but, to her surprise, did so on Sean’s side of the bench.
Audra unloaded the grocery sack and gave Jack his sandwich. He dove in, still wearing his helmet, before she could hand over his juice box and bag of grapes.
She scrunched her nose at Sean. “All I have are PB and Js. If you’d rather pass, it’s totally fine.”
“Are you kidding? That’s my favorite.” He snagged a sandwich, adding, “And lucky for me, since Aunt Lu makes them for me all the time.”
Audra laughed. “I have no doubt.”
For several minutes, the three of them quietly enjoyed their lunches.
Then Jack, with another surprise, asked Sean: “Did you see how good I’m steering with one hand?”
The question was slightly garbled from a mouthful of food, but Audra wasn’t about to correct him. His tone, though at a gentle volume, held the most enthusiasm she’d heard in as long as she could remember.
“I saw that!” Sean said. “Pretty impressive there.”
Jack slurped down his juice. “You know, I used to steer with no hands too.”
“Wow. Seriously?” Sean replied between bites. “That’s awesome, buddy.”
Audra paused at the nickname. More aptly, the way it drifted from Sean’s mouth, soft and natural as a leaf from a branch.
Jack wiped his mouth with the long sleeve over his cast. “After eating, wanna see me do it?”
Barely catching the reference, Audra cut in, “No. We don’t.”
“But, Mom,” he pleaded, “it’s easy.”
She hesitated, not wanting to dampen his mood, nor to be a “strict dictator.”
But Sean jumped in. “Better listen to your mom. She’s a smart woman. Knows what she’s talking about.”
The claim almost made Audra laugh. Boy, if he only knew.
“Besides,” Sean added, “you wouldn’t want to end up with two casts, right? How would you hug all your girlfriends?”
“Uh, Sean.” Audra looked at him. “He’s eight.”
Sean cleared his throat. “As I was saying, your mom’s a smart woman.”
She rolled her eyes, unable to stifle her smile—even more so when Jack giggled. The sound was so light and sweet she feared she had imagined it.
Hoping to sustain the momentum, she hazarded to bring up some of Jack’s old favorites: SpongeBob and ninja warriors.
“Who the heck is SpongeBob?” Sean asked.
Jack gaped as if the guy had never heard of air.
Audra doubted a former media producer was unacquainted with the famed cartoon. If he posed the question to keep her son talking, it worked. Jack, with the patience of a retired grandfather, launched into biographies of colorful characters from the underwater city of Bikini Bottom. The show’s humor, while not always the most appropriate, was admittedly very funny.
When Sean moved on to the ninjas, the conversation fizzled. It seemed Jack had used his allotted words for the week in one fell swoop. He did listen closely, however, to Sean’s insider tips on dealing with casts, the itching in particular.
The only other discussion Jack prompted was at the pond while feeding ducks.
“Is that real?” he asked, referencing Sean’s armband tattoo. “Did you get it for being in the Army?”
Audra, too, had noticed the black Celtic design peeking out from the edge of his shirtsleeve, but she’d averted her eyes from his upper arm to prevent giving the wrong impression. Now her attention bounced between the tattoo and Jack’s fascination. And she wondered what specifically had drawn her son out today: his interest in Sean as a soldier, or if a spiritual familiarity connected them.