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Charles couldn’t see what was so horrible about this entire situation. Really, the distress radiating from his Mother and caretaker was almost palpable, but he was quite comfortable and it wasn’t as if he was dangling from the ceiling or anything, so as far as he was concerned there was no problem at all.
“How long has it been like this?” asked Mother, and Miss Sophie wrung her hands helplessly.
“I don’t know—an hour, at least? You know that Charles can usually be counted on to take care of himself so I don’t watch him as closely as I do some of the others, but when I came back, they were just…glued together. I have no idea where they might have gotten it from.”
Shh… Don’t say anything, Charles.
You should tell them it’s not glue. Charles tilted his head back to look at Erik, who rested his chin more firmly on his shoulder and shook his head with a petulant frown.
Why?
Because it’s so much better—and besides, Mother doesn’t look too happy.
Your mama’s never happy.
Charles sent him an exasperated, if not fond nudge with his mind, a smile peeking at the corners of his mouth. It was weak, but he was already starting to get used to talking to Erik without using his voice. It definitely made them the best at team games on the playground, like their own little secret strategy—sometimes he still had to mouth the words, which gave it away, but he was getting better every day since Monday.
“Has Mrs. Lehnsherr been called?” asked Mother, voice starting to become shrill as she looked down at them. “We’re already late for our dinner.”
“Yes, of course, she’s on her way now.” The caretaker bent down and tried to separate them again, hooking her hands under Charles’ arms and trying to tug him gently away from Erik, but he just clung more stubbornly.
“No,” He said, frown deepening into something that would, in perhaps ten years, be called a proper scowl. A nickel that Bobby dropped earlier that afternoon rolled across the room under the toy chest, but no one really noticed.
“Charles,” sniffed Mother, “How do you get yourself into these situations? Honestly.”
“Sorry,” said Charles, face falling. “We were just playing.”
Erik, maybe you should let go.
“No,” said Erik, more forcefully. “Wait until mama comes.”
The request may have held more ground had Erik’s mama not walked through the door but two moments later.
“Is everything alright?” She asked, voice tinged with concern, glancing from Miss Sophie to Mother to Charles and Erik. “I came as soon as I could.”
“Sharon Xavier,” Mother stepped forward and offered her hand with the voice that Charles recognized as the one she used when she needed to sound important, “I’m Charles’ Mother.”
“Edie,” Erik’s mama smiled in turn, taking Mother’s hand briefly. Charles liked her smile a lot—he thought that he might have remembered Mother smiling like that once. “And of course I know Charles—Erik speaks so fondly of him. Has something happened?”
Mother turned to Miss Sophie, who looked, if possible, more flustered than before. “Yes, ah, it’s nothing dangerous, only that Erik seems to have…stuck himself. To Charles. Or the other way around, we’re not quite sure how it happened. One of them must have gotten into the art supply cabinet. Mrs. Xavier has a very important evening appointment but Erik doesn’t exactly want to let go, so we were hoping that you would be able to separate them.”
“Oh dear, that is a problem, isn’t it?” Erik’s mama nodded, and Charles felt deep down that she actually found everything to be quite funny. “Well, if it’s indeed glue, then we won’t be able to separate them without a bath.” She turned to Mother. “If you are in a hurry, perhaps you can leave Charles with us for the evening. He can have dinner with us before he leaves.”
Mother looked relieved. “Yes, that sounds good. I’ll have the chauffeur pick him up—”
“Oh, no, no,” interrupted Erik’s mama firmly, “We’ll drive him home.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask that—”
“I insist, truly. It's the least we could do to make up for complicating your plans.”
“—very well, then.” Mother smiled. “I’m much obliged, Edie.” She bent down to Charles and patted his hair. “Be good for Mrs. Lehnsherr, Charles. You’re causing her a lot of extra trouble tonight.”
“Yes, Mother.”
The click-clack of Mother’s heels faded from the linoleum of the daycare floor before Erik’s mama managed to maneuver them both, still attached to each other, out the door and into the backseat of her car.
“Erik, schatz,” She said, but she didn’t sound angry at all; there was even a sparkle in her eye. “I think it’s time to let go now, don’t you?”
“…Yes, mama.”
Charles felt Erik let go of the buttons on his overalls, one by one, until he could roll forward and sit up on his own. Erik’s mama smiled at that.
“Buckle up, please. And Erik, next time you want Charles to come over,” She murmured, leaning forward to kiss Erik on the forehead, “Just ask me. I’m sure we can arrange something with Mrs. Xavier that doesn’t involve sending Miss Sophie into a fit.”
“Can’t Charles just come and live with us all the time?” Erik wrinkled his nose. “I bet it’d be a lot more fun.”
Erik’s mama laughed gently, gathering both boys into her arms and hugging them tight. “Maybe one day.”