Chapter Text
“Dad! Dad! Over here!”
Johnny turned to see Robby running down the sidewalk as fast as his little legs would carry him. Despite his sluggish, sleep-deprived reflexes, he stooped down and scooped him up into his arms before he could barrel straight into his knees.
Sure, the pipsqueak weighed less than 50 lbs., but at the moment he was so tired a determined Shih Tzu could probably knock him over. Better safe than sorry.
“You’re here!” Robby squealed, flinging his arms around Johnny’s neck.
The surprise and relief in Robby’s voice was like a knife to his heart. Why did he sound so shocked? Had he really thought that he wouldn’t show? Johnny thought about all those times recently, when he’d been late to pick him up. How Robby had been left waiting. He’d had to watch his classmates leave, one by one, until there was no one left but him and his poor, put-upon teacher.
Had Robby spent the whole time worrying that he would get left behind again? That his dad would vanish without warning, just like his mom had done? Did the thought gnaw at him every single day, from the moment he was dropped off, until the Firebird pulled up at the curb to pick him up?
Johnny hugged his son just a little bit tighter. Swallowing down his guilt, he gently set Robby back down and forced a smile. “Hey, munchkin,” he greeted, ruffling his hair. “Of course I’m here. Did you have a fun day at school? Learn anything new?”
Robby nodded excitedly. “Uh-huh! We learned all about different cultures’ harvest festivals!”
“How exciting,” Johnny deadpanned, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Not that pansy-ass ‘harvest festival’ bullshit again. What was so wrong with just celebrating ‘Halloween’? Why were people these days so allergic to fun? “Anything else?”
“Yeah! Mrs. Murphree read us a spooky story! And then she taught us all about creepy critters, like spiders and bats and snakes! And how they’re not really creepy, just misunderstood. She even brought in her pet corn snake!” Robby beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. “Everyone else was scared to touch it at first, but I wasn’t! I even got to hold it! It was so cool!”
Johnny’s felt his smile turn brittle. “That’s… great.”
If Robby noticed his lack of enthusiasm for the subject, he didn’t show it. While he continued to chatter happily about the snake, Johnny’s mind started to drift. Kreese had kept a ‘pet’ snake, back in the day. A gift from an old war buddy, he’d claimed. He’d kept it in a terrarium in the corner of his office: a Chinese cobra. Highly venomous, and highly illegal to keep.
Kreese had called it Twig. Which always struck Johnny as a dorky name, for such a deadly creature.
Twig became something like a dojo mascot. Though none of them had ever been allowed to handle the snake, Kreese used to make new recruits feed it live prey. A test, he’d said, to weed out the soft-hearted and weak among their ranks.
Johnny shuddered at the recollection. He could still remember the way the little hamster had squirmed in his hands. How warm and soft its fur had been. The way its little heart raced in fear in the seconds before it’s doom. The sound of its terrified squeals…
“…and it curled around my fingers and climbed up my arm! And it wasn’t slimy at all! Can I have one? Please? Dad! Dad are you listening?”
An impatient tug at the hem of his flannel shirt snapped Johnny out of his reverie. Giving himself a mental shake, he hitched a strained smile back into place and returned his attention back to where it belonged.
“Hmm? Yeah, kid. I’m listening. Go on.”
“I was wondering if we could get a snake?” Robby asked again, turning those big green eyes on him. “I promise I’ll take good care of it. I’ll feed it and everything!”
Johnny’s stomach turned at the thought. He scrambled for an excuse.
“I don’t think our apartment complex allows pets,” he said, finally landing on a halfway decent one. It was probably even true.
Robby deflated a little. “Not even a little one?” he pleaded, his lower lip stuck out in a pout.
“Sorry, kiddo.” Johnny gently rubbed his back, hoping to soften the blow. “But maybe someday, yeah?”
Robby heaved a sigh but nodded in understanding. Johnny quickly tried to distract him from his disappointment.
“What’s that you’ve got there?” he asked, pointing to a sheet of paper clutched in Robby’s little hands. It looked to be some kind of drawing.
Robby looked down at it, then back up at him, biting his lip. “In art, we painted pumpkins. I finished mine early, so I made you this! Here!”
He proudly held out the sheet of construction paper for him to see. Johnny took it, carefully straightening out the slightly crumpled edges as he examined Robby’s gift.
Instead of a Headless Horseman, Robby had drawn a Headless Skateboarder. Clad all in black, he was launching off a ramp, a flaming jack-o-lantern held aloft in one bony hand while reaching for a sick tail grab with the other. In the foreground, a terrified man (who vaguely resembled their dickhead landlord) ran for his life.
It brought a smile to Johnny’s face – a real one, this time, small and impossibly fond. “You made this for me?” he asked, his eyes suddenly misty.
Robby gave a bashful nod. “I wanted to make you as something as badass as you are,” he said shyly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Do you like it?”
Johnny knelt down in front of his son, once again marveling that a kid this good had somehow come from a hopeless fuck-up like him.
“Like it? Are you kidding me? I love it!” he said, careful not to wrinkle the drawing as he pulled Robby into another hug. “Thank you.”
“Da-aaaad!!” Robby squealed. Suddenly conscious of the other kids in the schoolyard around them, he started to squirm and push at his shoulders. “Don’t get all mushy on me!”
With a startled laugh, Johnny let him go. Now that sounded like something a kid of his might say. Grateful for his dark sunglasses, Johnny discreetly blinked back his tears then stood up, his hand outstretched. Despite his prior protest, Robby latched onto it immediately.
“Okay, okay. No more mushy stuff. You ready to roll? Got all your stuff?”
“Yep!” Robby hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and nodded eagerly. “Ready!”
“Alright, let’s –”
“Mr. Lawrence? Mr. Lawrence! A moment…??”
Still keeping a hold of Robby’s hand, Johnny turned to find his teacher, Mrs. Murphree, hurrying toward them. Wondering what he had done wrong this time, Johnny nervously looked down at Robby, who gave him a clueless shrug.
They watched with trepidation as she approached at a brisk walk, weaving in and out of children with practiced ease. Johnny quickly pushed his sunglasses back up and prayed to anyone who was listening that they actually hid his banged up face. Grace had done her best to touch up the concealer over his bruises before he left, but she could only do so much, what with the swelling. In the frenzy to finish Robby’s costume, it wasn’t like he’d had time to ice it.
Slightly out of breath, Mrs. Murphree stopped in front of them. She was wearing a cardigan with bats on it and had a plastic storage bin tucked under one arm.
“Robby, you forgot something!” She gave the boy a sweet smile then reached into her bin and pulled out a small pumpkin. It must’ve been the art project Robby had talked about. She held it out, and Robby took it with a big grin.
“Thanks, Mrs. Murphree! Dad, look!” he said, holding it up for Johnny’s inspection. “It’s Donatello!”
It was, indeed, Donatello. Robby’s pumpkin was painted solid green, except for a purple eye mask and the turtle’s toothy grin. Johnny carefully took it from him, his stomach twisting in knots as he thought about the red mask Grace had so carefully sewn, and the red knee and elbow pads that were currently drying in front of a box fan in his bedroom.
Robby was going to hate it, wasn’t he?
“The task was to paint their favorite book character,” Mrs. Murphree explained, watching Johnny as he turned the tiny pumpkin around in his hands, only half listening.
“Donnie counts!” Robby said preemptively, like he was expecting an argument. “They started in a comic book, my Uncle Tommy said so! A comic book is still a book!”
Johnny finally snapped out of it and handed the pumpkin back to Robby. “Sure is, kiddo,” he agreed, lightly ruffling his hair. Robby beamed up at him, brighter than the sun. The warmth of his smile cut through the fog of exhaustion and anxiety that’d shrouded his mind all day. “Your Donatello turned out awesome. You did a great job.”
“Indeed! Robby is quite a talented artist,” Mrs. Murphree agreed, giving the boy an encouraging nod. “And he’s good with animals, too. He was very gentle with Ramen. My pet corn snake,” she clarified, correctly reading Johnny’s blank stare. “You know, like a noodle. Ramen…noodles.”
“Ah, right. That’s, uh, cute.” Johnny awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, eager to make his escape. The last thing he needed was for Robby to get more ideas about pet snakes. He rested a hand on his son’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze to get his attention.
“Hey, we should probably get going. I’m sure Mrs. Murphree has other stuff to do, and we have one more quick stop to make before we head home.”
“To get my costume?” Robby asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.
“I, uh, already got you a costume,” Johnny muttered, painfully aware that the ‘a’ in that sentence was doing a lot of heavy lifting.
“You did?! Then where are we –?”
“Tell you what,” Johnny interrupted, not wanting to ruin the surprise. “How ‘bout you go ahead and get in the car? It’s unlocked. I’ll be right behind you. I just need to have a quick word with your teacher, okay?”
Robby gave him a curious look but didn’t argue. He tucked his pumpkin into his bag for safekeeping and turned back to Mrs. Murphree. “Will you bring Ramen to class again, sometime?” he asked, his expression so hopeful it made Johnny’s chest ache. “Can I hold her again?”
“Of course, Robby. We’ll be continuing our lesson on reptiles next week. You’ll see her again very soon.”
“Really?!” Robby’s face lit up, brighter than the sun. “Yay! Happy Halloween, Mrs. Murphree! See you Monday!”
“Happy Halloween, Robby. Have fun tonight! Be safe!”
Robby gave his teacher a quick wave before running toward the Firebird that was parked at the curb. Johnny watched to make sure he got in okay, then took a deep breath and turned back to face the teacher.
“Look, I’m really sorry about –”
“Mr. Lawrence, I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to apologize for how –”
Realizing they were talking over the top each other, they both stopped and laughed.
“Uh, sorry. Ladies first,” Johnny said awkwardly, motioning for her to go on.
“No, no, I’m sorry! Please, go on,” she encouraged with a sheepish nod of her own.
“Okay, well, this won’t take long,” he rushed to assure her. “I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. And all the other days I’ve been late, recently. I really am sorry for causing you any trouble.”
“Mr. Lawrence, about that, I…”
Needing to just get this out already, Johnny held up a hand to stop her from interrupting.
“Look, I understand that you’re a teacher, not a babysitter, and that it’s not your job to watch Robby after school. It’s just, right now my work hours are really inconsistent. And I don’t exactly have family that I can rely on to help out. It’s just me. I’ve been trying my best, but…”
Johnny heard his voice starting to crack, and he stopped to compose himself. More than ever, he wished his mom was still around. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so alone.
But then, he wasn’t really alone anymore, was he? He looked down at the picture still clutched in his hands, the one Robby had so lovingly drawn for him. As much as he felt like he still needed his mom, Robby needed him more.
“But clearly, that’s not good enough,” Johnny continued, more to himself than the teacher. “To be completely honest with you, I’m in over my head, here. This parenting stuff is all new to me. And unexpected. I’m still trying to figure it all out. Which isn’t an excuse!” he quickly added, seeing her mouth open again in rebuttal. “Just an explanation. I understand that I have to do better. And I will. I can’t promise I won’t screw up again – I can almost guarantee you I will. But just know, I love Robby more than anything, and I am doing everything in my power to be the kind of dad he deserves.”
A tense silence fell between them, punctured only by the shriek of children and the honking of horns as parents tried to herd their ankle biters toward their cars.
“Uh… that’s all I wanted to say,” Johnny finished lamely, dropping his gaze to his feet and fidgeting with his keys to calm his jangling nerves. “Sorry, um, your turn.”
Before she could say anything, a little girl came up and tugged at the hem of Mrs. Murphree’s cardigan. Her hair was in twists, with little orange and black plastic barrettes clamped at the ends. They clacked softly every time she turned her head. Johnny vaguely recognized her as one of Robby’s classmates.
Were they friends, he wondered? Did they sit next to each other in class? Share crayons and trade snacks at lunchtime? With another twinge of guilt, he realized he didn’t know. He’d been so caught up in his own bullshit, he had no idea what was going on in Robby’s little world.
“Mrs. Murphree, do you have my pumpkin?” the little girl asked shyly, her eyes darting to Johnny. He tried to give her a friendly smile, but she took a nervous step backward.
Okay, so maybe his injuries weren’t as hidden as he’d hoped.
“Of course, Jordyn. Here you are, sweetheart.” Mrs. Murphree reached into her bin for another pumpkin. This one was painted like a unicorn. It kind of looked like someone had vomited pastel rainbows all over it. The little girl took it with glitter-coated hands and a wide, gap-toothed grin.
“Thank you!” Jordyn cast Johnny one last, distrustful glance, before darting off to her waiting mother. Mrs. Murphree watched her go, then turned back to face him.
“Thank you for your apology, Mr. Lawrence. I appreciate it. And on that note, I want to apologize, too,” she said, brushing a loose strand of dark hair back behind her ear. “Principal Trevino told me about your conversation when you picked Robby up from the office yesterday –”
“You mean the one where she didn’t let me get a word in edgewise, scolded me like a child and threatened to have my kid taken away from me for negligence?” Johnny grumbled under his breath, unable to stop himself from running his stupid mouth. “That conversation?”
To her credit, Mrs. Murphree looked genuinely regretful. “I am very sorry that happened. There was a misunderstanding. I spoke with Ms. Trevino first thing this morning, to clear the air. She wasn’t fully aware of your situation. Believe me, it was never my intention to make things more difficult or stressful for you. I was only trying to help Robby.”
“Help him? How?” Johnny glanced back at the car. Robby was sitting in his booster seat, watching them closely through the side window. Johnny gave him a reassuring wave before refocusing his attention on the young teacher.
Mrs. Murphree took a slow, deep breath, like she was bracing herself for a difficult conversation. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll cut to the chase. Lately, I’ve noticed that Robby seems to be showing signs of separation anxiety.”
“Separation anxiety? What, like a dog?” Johnny frowned, bristling at the thought of his kid being compared to a nervous little purse chihuahua.
Mrs. Murphree shifted uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but in a way, yes. It’s something that I’ve picked up on recently. Every day, shortly before the final bell, Robby loses focus. He starts to get tense and distracted. Anxious.”
“Doesn’t every kid get distracted at the end of the school day?” Johnny interrupted. “He’s probably just antsy to leave,” he reasoned, speaking from his own childhood experience. Every day, he’d counted down the seconds until he could finally leave school, and all the kids (and teachers) that’d bullied him.
Not that going home to Sid’s had been much better.
“To varying degrees, yes. And that’s natural. But each time you’ve been late to pick him up, that anxiety has grown much more pronounced. Yesterday in particular, he was very distressed. The more time that passed, the more upset and agitated he became.”
“Robby panicked,” Johnny finished for her, his heart sinking like a stone, all his worst fears confirmed. “He’s scared I’m gonna abandon him like his mom did.”
Mrs. Murphree gave him a sympathetic nod. “I believe he was having a panic attack, yes. He’s recently started to exhibit other symptoms, too. Frequent complaints of headaches and stomach aches, trouble concentrating. And he often comes to school tired, like he’s had trouble sleeping. Yesterday, when I couldn’t calm him down, I took him to the office, hoping the school counsellor might be able to help. She was concerned and took the matter to the principal.”
Johnny rubbed at his eyes behind his sunglasses. It felt like the guilt that’d been gnawing at him was about to swallow him whole. “Shit! I never meant to make him feel that way. If I’d known, I would’ve…”
Would’ve, what? If he had known how Robby was feeling, would it’ve really made a difference? It didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be in two places at once. He had to work. Even with Grace offering to help, there were times when he was going to be running late. It just couldn’t be helped, at least not until he found stable employment.
Or won the lottery.
Or Sid finally kicked the bucket.
Whichever came first.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Mr. Lawrence. These things happen.” Mrs. Murphree paused to give him a consoling pat on the arm. “I’m also aware of the unfortunate situation with Robby’s mother. I understand that you’re doing your best with the hand you’ve been dealt.”
“My kid is terrified that I’m gonna run off and ditch him. Yeah, I’m doing a great job,” Johnny muttered bitterly.
Another kid ran up to them then, a little red-headed boy in a Kung Fu Panda t-shirt. His equally ginger brother trailed just behind him. Mrs. Murphree handed the boy his pumpkin (it was painted with black tiger stripes, not nearly as cool as Robby’s) then returned her attention to Johnny.
“It’s obvious to me that you care about Robby very much, and that you want what’s best for him. That’s why I wanted to speak with you. I really think he might benefit from talking to someone.”
“What, like a shrink?” Johnny asked, rankled by the suggestion. Sure, Robby might be a little anxious. It was understandable, under the circumstances. But he wasn’t crazy.
“I believe therapy could really help him learn to deal with some of the intense feelings he’s been experiencing, yes. A major life change like the one you’ve both experienced can be overwhelming, especially for a child. A therapist could teach him how to handle that stress in a healthier way.”
Johnny shuffled his feet. In his heart, he knew she was right. But there was one major roadblock.
“Look, if it’ll actually help Robby, then I’m game. But I can’t afford it,” he reluctantly admitted, a hot flush of shame creeping up the back of his neck. “Not right now, at least.”
“There are a number of state-funded programs and other resources to help low-income and single-parent families, such as yours. If you’re open to the idea, I thought maybe we could set up a time next week, to discuss your options?” she suggested with a hopeful smile. “I can do a little research this weekend, figure out which programs you might qualify for, and help you apply for assistance.”
“You really don’t have to go to all that –”
“It’s no trouble,” Mrs. Murphree interrupted. “Robby’s such a sweet, curious boy. He’s got a bright future ahead of him. If there’s anything I can do to help him succeed, I’m happy to help.”
Johnny nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He thought back to all the teachers he’d had back in the day, the ones who wrote him off as a lost cause and passed him on, just to get him out of their hair. I can’t wait until he’s someone else’s problem, he’d once overhead one of them say. He wondered how different things might’ve been, if only he’d had a teacher who was as caring and supportive as Mrs. Murphree was of Robby.
“Are mornings okay?” Johnny conceded, after mulling it over a second longer. As much as he hated the idea of asking for help, he’d swallow his pride for Robby’s sake. “Afternoons aren’t really great for me right now, but I could bring Robby to school early some morning and we could talk before class starts? If that works for you?”
Mrs. Murphree’s face lit up. “How about Monday?” she asked, before handing off another pumpkin to a chubby kid with curly hair. “Here you are, Mitch.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Murphree.” The boy took his pumpkin, which was painted like the elephant from Horton Hears a Who. Instead of leaving, he continued to stand there, gaping up at Johnny, slack-jawed and staring. “Whoa! What happened to your face?!” he shouted, drawing the attention of several passersby.
“Stepped on a rake. What’s your excuse?” Johnny shot back reflexively. He adjusted his sunglasses, making sure his swollen eye was covered. Didn’t anyone teach kids these days that it was rude to stare?
Little Mitch the Snitch opened his mouth to reply, but the teacher hastily cut him off. “Oh, look! There’s your grandmother,” she said, waving to an older woman who had just pulled up to the curb in a white Buick LeSabre. “You don’t want to keep her waiting. Go on, have a fun weekend!”
She nudged the boy toward his grandmother’s car before returning her attention to Johnny. “Could you be here an hour before school starts?” she asked, completely unphased, like he hadn’t been about to bully a six-year-old.
Johnny thought it over. He wasn’t scheduled to work at the club on Saturday or Sunday. That would give him the whole weekend to rest and recover from his injuries and get his head on straight.
“Okay,” he agreed with a nod. “Monday it is. I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful, I’ll see you and Robby then! Oh, wait!”
Shifting the box of remaining pumpkins under her arm, she dug around in the pocket of her cardigan, then pulled out a black, bat-shaped lollipop. She handed it to him with a grin. “Don’t worry, it looks like it’s licorice flavored, but it’s not. It’s actually cherry. Happy Halloween!”
“Um, thanks? Happy Halloween.”
Stowing the sucker in his pocket, Johnny awkwardly waved goodbye and headed toward his car. He opened the passenger door and dropped the seat down so he could lean into the cramped backseat. After making sure Robby was safely buckled in, he circled around to the driver’s side and got in himself.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the –”
“Am I in trouble?”
Johnny fumbled his keys; they fell into the floorboard with a clatter. He glanced up at Robby’s worried little face in the rearview. “No, munchkin. You’re not in trouble,” Johnny assured him, as he felt around blindly for them. “Why would you think that?”
“Then are you in trouble?” Robby asked with a dubious frown.
“No, not this time,” Johnny answered, with a rueful laugh. It was probably the first time in his life he was honestly able to say that after a meeting with a teacher.
“If you’re not in trouble, and I’m not in trouble, what took so long?”
Johnny finally felt cold metal beneath his fingertips. He snatched up the keys and stuck them in the ignition before he could drop them again. “I was just apologizing to Mrs. Murphree, for being late yesterday,” he explained as he started the engine. “Just wanted clear the air. Let her to know it wasn’t on purpose.”
“Oh,” Robby said in a small voice. “Okay.”
The guilt was back, nibbling at Johnny’s conscience like a thousand starving rats. He glanced at the sideview; there was a line of traffic preventing him from leaving, so he left the car in park and twisted around in his seat to face Robby. Ignoring the sharp pain the motion sent through his bruised back, he tried to think…
What had he wanted to hear when he was Robby’s age?
No, what had he needed to hear? What words could his mom have said that would’ve helped him?
Johnny shoved his sunglasses up into his hair and ducked his head to catch Robby’s downcast eyes. “I realize I owe you an apology, too,” he admitted. “For all the nights I haven’t been around because of work. And for all the times I’ve been late. Especially yesterday. I know that had to’ve been scary for you. I’m so sorry, Robby.”
Robby looked taken aback. He clearly hadn’t been expecting a sincere apology, especially from an adult. But he quickly recovered from his shock.
“I wasn’t scared,” Robby protested with a little sniffle. “I’m a badass, like you. Badasses don’t get scared.”
Johnny’s heart suddenly felt heavier than his aching, exhausted limbs. “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” he said slowly, reaching back to tuck a strand of Robby’s hair behind his ear. “Everyone gets scared sometimes. Even badasses. Even me. Especially me.”
“Really?” Robby asked, his eyes going wide.
“Really,” Johnny confirmed, chucking him gently under the chin. “I get scared all the time, even if I don’t always show it. But take it from me, kiddo – it’s way more badass to admit your fears and face them head on, than to pretend they don’t exist and spend your whole life hiding from them.”
Robby thought this wisdom over for a second, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “It’s scary when you leave,” he finally admitted, shyly glancing up through his eyelashes. “What if you don’t come back? Mommy said she’d come back, but she didn’t.”
Johnny bit his tongue and counted backwards from ten. Bobby and Jimmy had both warned him about bad-mouthing Shannon in front of Robby, so he tried his best not to. After all, he remembered how hurtful it had been when his mom talked shit about his dad right in front of him. He didn’t want his son to resent him the way he’d grown to resent her.
He didn’t want Robby to think his anger was directed at him, either. That he was mad or disappointed in him for expressing his fears. How many times back in the day had he tried to tell Kreese about what was going on at home, about the daily insults and abuse he endured from Sid?
Oh, right. Just the once. After that first failed attempt and the derision he’d faced, he’d never tried to open up about any of it, ever again. To anyone. Even now, he still struggled with asking for help.
Johnny didn’t know much about being a parent, needless to say being a good one, but Grace had a point – he knew what not to do. If he made his kid feel like a loser for admitting he was scared, he would never trust him with anything, ever again. And Johnny wanted Robby to feel safe coming to him with anything.
“I know. I know it’s scary. You were very brave for telling me that. I’m so proud of you.”
It was the exact opposite of what Kreese would’ve said to him. The words went against everything he’d ever been taught about being tough, about being a winner, about being a man. But they felt strangely right. Feeling lighter, Johnny smiled and brushed Robby’s bangs back out of his tear-filled eyes.
“Listen, I can’t promise that we’ll never be apart. You have to go to school, and I have to go to work. There are gonna be times when I might be running late or have to leave you with a sitter. It can’t be helped. But know I’ll always be thinking about you, and I’ll always come back for you, Robby. I promise.”
Robby still looked unconvinced, and Johnny didn’t blame him. It’s not like he had the best track record when it came to being there. He’d missed the first five years of the kid’s life. Between that and what Shannon had done, it was going to take time to rebuild his broken trust.
“I’ll make you a deal, okay? I promise I’ll do a better job of letting you know where I’m gonna be from now on. Where I’m going, when I’ll be back, if I think I might be late. But you have to promise me something too.”
“What’s that?” Robby asked warily, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“I want you to promise you’ll come to me if you’re feeling sad, or scared, or alone, okay?” Johnny paused, searching for the right words to help Robby understand. “Sometimes, adults get distracted. We get so busy, we can’t see everything that’s going on. Even important stuff that should be obvious. But if something’s upsetting you, that you think I’ve missed? Especially if it’s something I’ve done? You can always tell me. I want to know. Because I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
Robby’s lip wobbled. He gave him a tentative nod. “Pinky swear?” he offered, holding out his little finger.
Johnny grinned and hooked it with his own. “Pinky swear,” he agreed, giving it a shake.
Glancing out the window, he saw that the line of traffic had finally started to clear. Giving Robby’s hair one last ruffle, he turned around to face the wheel and buckle himself back in. He’d driven by the church Grace had told him about on the way there, to make sure their pumpkin patch was still open. It looked like they still had a decent selection, so his plan was to take Robby by and let him pick out a pumpkin to take home. They could carve it while the last pieces of his costume finished drying, buying him a little more time.
“Alright, kiddo, let’s try this again. You ready to get the hell out of here?”
Robby’s expression suddenly turned shrewd. Johnny got the feeling he’d just walked into a trap. “You know, dad… sometimes your cursing really bothers me,” he said, slow and calculating, his lower lip stuck out in an exaggerated pout.
“Does it now?” Johnny replied dryly, already seeing where this was going.
“Uh huh. Edwin told me his dad has a swear jar. His mom makes him put a dollar in it every time he says a bad word. And if he does it again, he has to put in a five. I was thinking, maybe we should have one, too?”
“Nice try, you little scammer.” Johnny smirked as he shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. “Now, you wanna keep trying to con me out of money I don’t have, or do you want to go pick out a pumpkin to carve?”
That got Robby’s attention. He instantly perked up at the mention of the pumpkin patch. “Really?!” he asked, sitting a little higher in his booster seat, grift momentarily forgotten. “You’re gonna let me carve a pumpkin? All by myself?”
“With adult supervision!” Johnny quickly corrected.
“So, Miss Grace is gonna help?”
Johnny glared at him in the rearview until Robby started to giggle. “Such a little shit,” he grumbled, shaking his head fondly.
“Now you owe six dollars to the swear jar,” Robby solemnly reminded him, holding up six tiny fingers to hammer his point home.
“Put it on my tab,” Johnny answered with a smirk.
“What’s a tab?”
Johnny heaved a sigh, from the depths of his exhausted soul. Oh, what wouldn’t he give to be running up an astronomical tab at his favorite dive right about now. He missed it – the cheap beer and stale peanuts, 80’s rock on the jukebox, the giant biker behind the bar that didn’t ask questions and kept the drinks flowing all night. He even missed the sticky floors and the neon lights.
It wasn’t that far away. Five minutes, tops. Ten with traffic. If he hung a right at the next corner…
“Dad! The turning arrow’s on!”
Ignoring the honking cars behind him, Johnny blinked away his daydreams of ice cold Banquets and softly glowing bar signs and turned left, towards an afternoon of wholesome family fun at the pumpkin patch.