Archive of Our Own

When Doug Maheswaran answered the doorbell, his eyes were set on the place where someone his daughter's height would be, to welcome Stephen in with open arms and a gruff paternal timbre—his "dad-itude," as Priyanka had told him not to call it. When he actually opened the door, he found himself momentarily gawking at the midriff of the tallest woman he had met in his life.

"Oh—!"

She smiled expectantly and crossed her arms over her chest. Whatever she was expecting, Doug was at a loss for it, as he was for words. Doug actually looked up into the black-brown eyes and felt, for a moment, that deep unease that he had been fearing going into this.

The woman was unquestionably beautiful. Her skin was sun-kissed pink, with almost imperceptible freckles dotting her arms, shoulders and cheeks. Unkempt tangles draped across her shoulders and all the way past her elbows. Doug sensed the amusement in her poise, the musculature in her lean, the odd sense of being threatened but without any actual danger. Her shorts and shirt fit softly around her frame—around all her body's attempts to escape them, certainly—but were stiff in their ridges, like they had just been dried after being pulled out of the ocean. Actually, even from here he could smell the salt and iron.

"You must be..." Crap. Doug hadn't expected to meet any of the 'guardians' and he certainly hadn't remembered any names.

A hand from behind rested on his shoulder. "Rosa," Priyanka said, "it's nice to see you."

"Doctor Maheswaran," Rosa replied warmly. "And Mr. Maheswaran. Yes?"

"Ha, well, just Doug will do."

Rosa made no attempts to extend a hand or inquire further. This must have been the woman that Priyanka and Connie had met with on the beach for that one playdate. The talk of guardians and family and whatnot had diminished significantly since Stephen's return. Finals week had hit Connie hard, but her focus was tight enough that Doug could get into the routine. Seeing his daughter so stressed about her friendships had made him happy that the regular stressors of school had any routine at all. The household functioned when everyone had their circles, when all the buzz kept them moving and the moments of relaxation could be enjoyed knowing that the world was safe.

If Doug had to guess, Stephen's household didn't function on those kinds of pathways. At this point guessing was all he could do. When he had asked about how the playdate had gone, Priyanka had just said that it was pleasant, if uninformative. However the conversation had shifted after that, Doug couldn't recall.

 Then, a boy stepped out from behind Rosa. Maybe he had been there the whole time, but he kept himself hidden well. Doug let loose a relieved sigh.

"And you must be Stephen!"

"Yes'r!"

Even in that pert reply, even in the whimsical smile, Doug could tell sense Stephen's nervous energy. The kid was wearing one of Mr. Universe's old band shirts, probably an adult's small, with a bright yellow star stretched across his chest. If Doug hadn't been told before, he would've assumed that Stephen was indeed Rosa's kid from the body shape alone; he had that same stocky build, but compressed into a preteen's shyness. And there was the matter of the black hair and its unkempt plumes. But there was something instinctual in Doug's reading of the body language, a manner of unease with which Stephen carried himself. Whatever it was, it disarmed Doug of that paranoia he had felt when he had first heard about a boy coming over.

" Stephen! "

Doug nearly fell into the garden as Connie barreled past him and Priyanka. He opened his mouth to chide her for the sudden brazenness, but she already had her arms wrapped around the boy, and Stephen's face was lit up pink as he returned the hug just as tightly, almost lifting Connie off the ground as he laughed.

Maybe some paranoia was in order after all. "Alright, alright you two—"

Before Stephen could start spinning Connie around like a shot put champion, Doug stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his daughter's shoulder. Reluctantly, she unhooked herself from Stephen's shoulders and shifted from foot to foot, still giggling breathlessly.

"Sorry! Sorry, I'm just—kinda on cloud nine!" said Connie. "Finals are done, chemistry is outta here, history is history, and this is kinda a historical event too!"

"And it's a privilege that can be easily reversed if you're going to forget your manners, young lady," Priyanka chided.

Clearly Stephen knew that he had crossed a line too. He bit his lip and avoided the adult's eyes, but kept giving furtive little glances to Connie—a shared childhood excitement, one that Doug couldn't help but understand. That didn't mean he had to be so obvious about it, though; Doug saw his toes curling up in his sandals, the pressure of elbows against his sides, and the way he was continuing to hold Connie by the wrists despite the sternest eyebrow-raise that Doug could muster.

When Rosa laughed, everyone stopped fidgeting. Despite her composure, the woman raised Doug's hackles, and this was a different kind of paranoia that filled him: one where he didn't know why he felt so uneasy. She pulled the reluctant Steven close to her. Connie released him without any hesitation whatsoever; Doug pretended not to see the change.

"Ah, Miss Rosa, I apologize for my daughter's...exuberance—" he began.

"There's nothing to apologize for," Rosa replied, "not when these two have missed each other so much. Stephen doesn't have anyone quite like Connie around. She's a special girl."

Connie held her wrists together and swayed on the stoop, as if she wanted nothing more than to whisk Stephen away from this uncomfortable hug. For his part, the boy was more naturally embarrassed, but less in the grumpy adolescent way and more... Doug didn't want to say it, but he glanced at Priyanka, and even she could tell. When he looked back, Rosa tilted her chin at him, bemused. Then she smiled downwards.

"Hello again, Connie."

"Hi, Rosa. Thanks for letting Stephen sleep over."

There was that voice that Connie used when talking to strangers after a long day, the kind that Doug and Priyanka had heard at back-to-school nights when she had to introduce herself to the strictest teachers. It was somewhere between uncertainty and measured politeness; none of the yes ma'am , good afternoon ma'am that she'd been raised on. But Rosa didn't seem the kind to appreciate it, anyway. Doug just noticed: Rosa was barefoot. He had also noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra, but he'd wait and see if Priyanka had any comments before he brought it up. Sometimes the detective reflexes went too far.

"I-I brought everything," Stephen offered.

"Everything?" Priyanka echoed.

The boy shifted his backpack. "I... We made a list before. I have, um, clothes, and a new toothbrush, and Mister Universe gave me a notebook!"

He grinned. Doug smiled back and nodded without trying to seem condescending. Stephen's voice was bright and cautious and for all his efforts, he sounded like a non-native English speaker trying out their new vocabulary, despite the fact that he had no accent whatsoever. Doug had never heard anything like that in his life. It was here that he really understood just why Priyanka had been so weirdly protective of the boy when he came up in conversation.

"Well, we've just barely gotten into the afternoon. You two have a long day ahead of yourselves. But when the time comes—Miss Rosa, when should we expect you tomorrow?"

"Greg Universe will be coming by. Let's say after breakfast? I'll make sure that he tells you beforehand."

"Mr. Universe?" Priyanka said. "I'm glad that Stephen will have a ride, but..."

"I'm dropping by right after here. Just for a chat."

Rosa's constant bemusement was just non-threatening enough for Doug not to get annoyed. He could see how Priyanka and Connie would've been frazzled from a whole day of it, though, and they weren't exactly convincing in their smiles even now. But he wasn't about to cast any actual aspersions on this woman—not when he had just met her. That suspicion and conjecture he felt didn't come from a place of logic. Rosa was just weird and he needed to be better.

"Thank you for passing the message along," Doug said as he stepped forward and patted Connie on the shoulder. "If these two keep the peace, I might even make some pancakes for them. Extra berries."

"Really, dad?"

Both Stephen and Connie lit up at the prospect, but Stephen's silent face betrayed an almost puppy-like hope that Doug had to ignore else his judgment be tainted. At least the kid knew good food. Rosa smiled and knelt to his cheek, planting a gentle kiss. Stephen glanced down, but didn't push or whine like Doug would have at his age.

"I'm sure they'll both be wonderful. Be safe, Stephen. And careful."

"Yes'm."

"Go on now."

Priyanka prickled next to Doug and refrained from her remarks on how safe the household was and how the urging was unnecessary. But of course, a mother could recognize another mother's instincts. Rosa must be somewhat like a mother, or perhaps she had her own kids, younger or older or way out of Stephen's age range. It wasn't like Doug, or anyone, was going to get an answer from her.

Rosa stood and stroked the cheek she kissed before urging Stephen forward. As everyone filed in, Doug and Priyanka offered some kind of pleasant goodbye and Connie mumbled her thanks. Rosa waved her fingers, and then, the door separated the world of summer from the world of the Maheswaran residence.

All that cautious uncertainty left Stephen's body as he straightened up and looked around with his eyes wide as peonies and his mouth just barely moving as he looked from picture frame to picture frame. It hadn't been until now that Doug could really see how different the boy's eyes were from his guardian's. Even in the florescent lighting, the banded steel looked like it was shifting. The air of mystery was one explanation for why Connie had fallen head over heels for her new friend. Maybe Doug was projecting a lot of his biases at this point, but even he was overwhelmed at this whole prospect He was thinking too much. Now was the time to focus.

"Welcome to our humble abode!" Doug said. He clapped his hands together. "Now I'm sure you two can throw a few hours away before bedtime, but first things first: Stephen, have you had lunch yet?"

The boy shook his head.

"Why don't you kick your shoes off and get comfortable, then? Whole wheat PB&J, some potato salad—we have enough, right dear?"

"Enough for two hungry kids, probably. I'll go for something lighter."

"Once we get settled, I'm sure Connie would love to show you around the house. Then maybe we can find where you two will actually be sleeping tonight."

"Yes'r!"

A boy of few words. Doug nodded and strode towards the kitchen. He hadn't asked too many specifics about Stephen beforehand, but there didn't seem to be any reason to worry. He wouldn't mention parents, he wouldn't mention school, and he wouldn't ask too much about home life. Easy peasy.

As everyone entered, Doug went for the bread. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Connie and Stephen lock eyes, bump shoulders, and grin like imps. He furrowed his brow. Maybe there was a little reason to worry after all.

"Have a seat, you two," Priyanka said. "You've got a whole day to play responsibly, so don't go tearing off with too much abandon."

"Yes ma'am! Stephen and I will moderate our abandon carefully."

"We're a little low on abandon. But you know what they say," Doug said with a finger-wag, "if you can't make your own abandon, store-bought is fine."

Connie snickered as Priyanka let out a good-natured sigh. Shenanigans were all par for the course in the Maheswaran household, as long as everyone was physically safe. Doug turned to Stephen and almost laughed aloud. It wasn't funny, not really; the poor boy looked as though he was trying to put together a puzzle using only his mind. Come to think of it, there was a chance that English wasn't his first language. Doug's parents had their share of slip-ups, and he remembered his grandparents struggling through English as well. Connie's presence could perhaps ease him through some of the idiomatic quirks if nothing else.

She had so much leadership potential, but her shyness was too much sometimes. When she led Stephen by the hand to the table, though, Doug wasn't sure how bold was too bold. Priyanka set two plates on the counter next to him as well as the potato salad.

"Is there danger?" Stephen asked quietly as he took his seat.

"Sorry?"

"We, um—" Now it was Stephen's turn to laugh nervously. "We were not planning on being in danger today. Not on the schedule."

 "Ah. Ha, yes. Well, unless Connie's written something up, I think we're playing it by ear today."

Priyanka sighed. "I wanted to make some sort of itinerary, but with finals and tests and two on-call emergencies, we just didn't have the space to finalize anything. But I don't suppose you mind, do you?"

Stephen shook his head.

"We've got the chessboard all accounted for," Doug added. "and Connie had been hankering for an old-fashioned slumber party. We're nixing the soda and candy, but we're springing for pizza. Kind of a celebration!"

"Celebration?"

"O-oh, it's nothing! Just, you know, another school year down. No more tests to worry about, no projects or deadlines, no more having to deal with Mrs. Warner's math hang-ups," Connie said quickly.

"Dear!"

Priyanka took a seat next to Stephen. The boy raised his eyebrows across the table at Connie, looking between the Maheswaran ladies in concern. Priyanka clicked her tongue and drummed the table precisely. One-two-three-four , pinky to pointer.

"That woman was a menace, though. I almost had it out with her in front of the vice principal. Honest to goodness, she had no reason to mark you down for your significant digits or whatever she was grousing about," she muttered.

"But—it's good. You did it, Connie!"

"I guess so. I'm just so fried from it. So we're gonna eat pizza and popcorn and watch bad television and not think about anything school-related until the fall!"

Through the back-and-forth, Doug had been quietly preparing the plates. Connie would be happy to go back to school next year. All the classes she had been to young to take would be available, and eighth grade was going to be even better the year after that. For one night, she could have something that resembled a normal childhood—no moving house. Chances were that Stephen wasn't involved with a secret government experimentation program and was on the run from the law.

"School has the...library. Yes?"

"Well, um, yeah, why?"

Doug picked up the kids' lunches. When he turned, Stephen had lowered his chin to the table, looking up in mock-woe.

"Does that mean no more reading?" he moped.

"Of course we're gonna read!" Connie laughed. "We're—oh, thanks, dad!"

The plates clinked on the wood and Stephen sat upright. Reading was integral; Doug recalled Priyanka's comments about Stephen's illiteracy. Maybe it hadn't gone that far, actually, maybe he was overstepping his assumptions—he definitely was. Stephen just had trouble with whatever he had trouble with, and Doug had no right to cast judgment.

"I'll grab forks and juice boxes. Lemme guess, Stephen, she's got you hooked on that one with the girl and the bird?"

"Yes'r! Thank you, sir. Lisa! And Archimicarus!"

There was one word he could pronounce perfectly. Stephen beamed proudly as Connie's burning cheeks opened to shove the sandwich in her mouth. If she was showing her friend the book and if he liked it, then there shouldn't be any reason to be embarrassed, but Doug knew that Connie had her moments where talking about the things she liked made her clam up. Kids and their little anxieties. It was better that than crying when Stephen was off galavanting with Greg.

"Luckily you don't need a school to visit a library. Maybe one day you can go down to the library and get a card—or you can just visit," Priyanka mused.

"Actually, I never asked—"

The questions about card information stirred up other, more pertinent questions in Doug's mind. He shut the fridge, and brought back the juice and forks for divvying as he raised half an eyebrow.

"What's your surname, Stephen? I'm not one for etymology, but I'm curious."

"Sur...?"

"Your, ah your last name."

"Oh."

The boy took a small bite of his sandwich in not-quite-protest. He avoided Doug's gaze as the man pulled out a chair to join them. Priyanka sharpened her eyes almost imperceptibly—at Doug, not Stephen. It stood to reason that some questions might cause friction, but this was innocuous enough, or at least it should've been. Stephen watched Connie fumble with her juice box and the straw wrapping.

"It can be Universe?" he offered through partially masticated bread.

"I don't think it can be. Frankly I don't think Mister Universe got his name legally changed in the first place," Doug said.

"He was having it changed?"

"Heh, what, you didn't think he was born with that, did you?"

It was possible that he hadn't kept his voice light enough, because the slight damper that Stephen tried to hide made it clear as dawn: yes, he had thought that, and it had been a nice thought, too. Connie was almost halfway done with her sandwich through sheer force of awkwardly taking bites instead of piping up. Doug sat up straight and pushed his lips together as Stephen set his sandwich supine and reached for his own juice.

"Not that it matters too much! Some names we're born with and some we choose," Doug stammered. "As long as you're around here and not trying to fill out government paperwork, you can be Stephen Universe."

"It's a bit of a mouthful, but it'll do," Priyanka muttered.

"Puh intehdahd?"

"Connie, do swallow before trying to make jokes. Your father is closer and he'll be the one to do CPR if you choke."

"I think my card's expired. Huh, speaking of government paperwork."

Connie swallowed carefully. "That's how they get you!"

"Stephen Universe..." Stephen said to himself.

"The real question is whether that's with a 'v' or a 'p-h,'" Doug commented.

The boy gave him a funny look. "Mister Universe was asking the same."

And, Doug thought, there was no answer there either. He chuckled as Stephen pretended not to watch Connie dig into the potato salad, as he mirrored the way she held her fork. Part of him wanted to tell the boy to relax and that he shouldn't worry about doing everything so precisely. Part of him wanted to interrogate his daughter for bringing in a boy off the street with no last name and no definitive first name. When he looked up, he blanched inwardly at his wife's practiced gorgon-esque stare. Maybe he wasn't hiding his inquisitiveness as much as he had hoped.

"I suppose I should, ah, thank you personally, as long as you're here," Doug offered.

"Oh, Doug, we've been through this—"

"I know, I know! But this is the first time Stephen and I have even seen each other! And Connie would be in much rougher shape without his swimming skills."

"D aa -aad..."

Stephen curled a hand around his mouth to cover the fact that he was swallowing, but also perhaps to cover the pinkness that was spreading under his freckles. He wriggled shyly in his chair and sat up a little straighter. As he should, Doug thought. The kid had saved his daughter from potentially drowning. The strangeness was almost more than he could handle—to think, this dog-eared vagabond had been the one to take Connie to safety.

"It is...what I do best," Stephen managed to say.

"Which part? Saving folks or swimming?"

"The swimming. I'm good at swimming."

And another wriggle. He raised his eyebrows at Connie as if he couldn't be more pleased to be here. Connie was smiling and chewing as if she wanted to melt into the linoleum and huddle herself into the kitchen's shadows forever. Doug usually wasn't too attuned to his daughter's embarrassment, but this was so easy to spot that he couldn't hold back a little chuckle.

The fact of the matter was that Stephen was so damn earnest in everything that came out of his mouth. All the world was new to him, baubled and tasty and bright and strange. He was the first kid besides that had crossed their threshold in literal years; even Connie's study groups convened at the schools before breaking apart and heading home. Doug could remember picking Connie up one winter, right as the snow was starting to fall. She had been walking out with three other girls from her advanced history course, and Doug had seen her raise a hand to point out the drifting flakes. The girls had all turned in unwitting simultaneity and jumped at one of their jokes before dashing off southward; it wasn't that they had intentionally snubbed Connie, but Doug sensed that they hadn't even heard her little voice asking them to look. Dinner had been quiet that night. Dinner was often quiet during the school year.

"Perhaps you could look into junior lifeguard programs when you get a little older!" Priyanka offered. "First aid certification is only a week of classes unless you're doing advanced training."

"That's definitely a long ways off! You gotta be at least fourteen, I remember that!" Connie blurted out.

Doug nodded. "That's right. Stephen, how old are you now again?"

"I, um..."

Stephen took a sip of juice and stared at Connie again as if she knew the answer better than he did. Doug exchanged a look with Priyanka, a silent question.

"I will be twelve—um, twelve. Years old," Steven said. "At the ending of the summer."

"Oh? Looks like you're just a hair behind Connie then. She's a November baby."

The kids were nearing the end of their meal. Doug tapped his fingers on the table and let out a cautiously satisfied sigh. Frankly, if Connie didn't want to be embarrassed a little bit, she shouldn't have invited her friend over, much less the kind that raised dad-itude levels to their maximum: the boy kind. And yet, even as she squirmed, Stephen looked happy as a clam, munching away.

Everything in the world was wrong with this situation. Priyanka had seemed disconnected from the world when she had returned from seeing Stephen and Connie together for the first time, and it was as if she hadn't fully recovered. Stephen should have raised her defenses even more, but she was trying so hard for reasons that Doug could only imagine. While Connie was sleeping in, they had talked in bed about the conversational dos and don'ts—yes to food, no to cuisine. Yes to his family members, no to parents. Yes to reading, no to books, or school, or his neighborhood, or any other friends. Maybe to hobbies, but that was on the fence. He had asked indignantly how hobbies were on the fence and Priyanka had thrown up her hands as if he had just figured out how unreasonable this mystery was.

"You know, it's a ways away, but maybe we could see if your cousins want to fly in from the lakes," Doug mused to get his mind off of things. "I know it's not your Auntie Sejal, but that trip is...gonna be a lot of planning."

"Dad, I've always got work to do over November break, and it's not even close to my actual birthday," Connie sighed.

"There's nothing wrong in planning out all of our options. But we shouldn't worry about that right now."

Priyanka put her hands together, and even Stephen perked out of her reverie at the universal mom-signal for a plan of action. His knowledge of Maheswaran family planning wasn't much to go on, anyway.

"It's just a couple plates, so your father and I can rinse these off," Priyanka said, "while you can go and show Stephen the house f—"

"YES ma'am! C'mon, Stephen!"

As Connie practically slammed her chair into the table, Stephen twisted his head like he was searching for permission or for an answer to the questions running across his mind. It didn't matter whether he was confused or overwhelmed or neither—Doug didn't have the rights to that determination. Stephen pushed himself up either way and nodded his head.

"Thank you, for the lunch," he murmured.

"Hey, our pleasure."

The boy giggled cheekily as he followed Connie out of the kitchen—adventure awaits!—with his backpack swinging on his wrist. It might not go over well when they broke the news that they weren't going to be sharing the bunk beds; some rules enforced themselves, though, and if the hug earlier was any indication...

Doug heard the clink and looked up from the space he'd been staring into. Bare footsteps and relieved chatter vanished to the third floor above him and Priyanka. She raised her eyebrows at him as she placed one sticky plate on another.

"You've got that look again."

"You're going to have to be more specific. Roguishly handsome? Working-class scruff? Dad of the year?"

"Hard-boiled detective," she answered flatly.

"And would you believe me if I said that I was trying to hide it?"

She laughed, but both of them knew it wasn't very funny. Doug let his thoughts run wild and allowed his face to do whatever it needed to as he gathered the juice boxes. He shook his head as Priyanka watched him from the sink.

"I'm not gonna say that I knew this was a bad idea," he muttered, "but this is one hell of a mystery and I know you want to solve it too."

"I wouldn't put it like that. I have my curiosities."

"Not even a last name? No surname? Or if he's hiding it from us, why? Doesn't look like he's unhoused, but that Rosa woman—she doesn't have a care in the world either. Who even is she to him? Literally all we know about this kid is that his name is Stephen, he thinks he's gonna be adopted by Greg or something, he's got a crush on our daughter—"

"Believe it or not, that one I'll have to push back on."

Doug crossed his arms. Priyanka crossed her own right back.

"He thinks the world of Connie, that's for sure, but I don't believe he has the same romantic background, culturally," she said. "I doubt he's seen movies about it, definitely doubt he's read a romance novel—and it's unlikely he's been to a wedding."

"And what about Connie?"

"Oh no question. Even if she doesn't know it, she's trounced."

The image of their trope-dissecting kiss-squeamish daughter, who had once rambled for almost twenty minutes about a movie poster's depictions of post-apocalyptic makeup and masculinity, thinking about a boy—that was enough to make Doug snort. But it was true. Some of her behavior couldn't fully explain the friendship, the emotions that friendship brought along. Someone could argue that having a first true friend would lead to the observed outbursts, but they hadn't seen Connie change since the spring. She'd blushed more in the last two months than Doug had seen in the decade prior.

Priyanka sighed. "But I'm not worried. Stephen has a good head on his shoulders for the most part. And if they veer into that territory, we un-veer them right back."

"Honey, what do you know about Stephen?"

The sink gurgled with draining water. Priyanka slipped the plates into the dishwasher, closed it, then leaned against the counter in deep thought.

"He's...lost his parents. He lives in a safe dynamic, but none of them are blood related, and Rosa is...some kind of matriarch. I believe. Before he met Connie, he was illiterate, and his speech patterns were—strange. Really, he's improved a lot there. But he's fed, he's safe, and he's so completely sheltered from society that I'm astounded he's adjusted so well."

"But that's the thing," Doug muttered, glancing towards where Connie and Stephen dashed off. "If the adults in his life weren't teaching him how to read or write, then what's he learned from them?"

"He's learned how to swim. He's learned how to be kind, generally. He's certainly more polite than I'd expect most boys his age to be."

"For his age, Stephen should be thinking about school and socialization. I'm not worried about him being impolite or unkind. I'm worried about him ten years from now without any experience."

Priyanka looked up. "What is it you think Rosa does? Any of them?"

"I...hadn't thought about that, actually."

Whether or not they were technically unhoused, Doug couldn't guess. If Stephen's family was on hard times, then the unsavory positions opened up other mental paths that made Doug even more worried for Stephen's future. All that mattered, in the end, was that Stephen was safe and by extension the people he lived with. Doug had seen too much of the wrong end of these thoughts. He had resisted the pressure to join the police academy, thank goodness, but he knew the characterization enough to understand: whoever Rosa and her little band were, the world was against them.

Poor Stephen. That was as much as Doug could muster, really—a little sympathy for a mysterious boy in an even more mysterious situation.

"I'm not going to give up, but there's only so much that we can do," Priyanka said. "Right now, well, we just have to support his little journey whenever he shows up. Connie needs us like she always has, too."

Doug grimaced. "A good mystery does take up a lot of mental real estate. Connie's a smart kid, though. She'll get out of her head when school starts up."

"I'd love for Stephen to start schooling but he's so far behind already. And there's no chance that his folks would agree to it."

"Maybe when Connie gets to the high school she can put him down as a tutoring reference. I've heard the college prep programs love that sort of thing."

Here they were again, talking about their daughter's future, wondering moment by moment, thinking about the decisions Connie would ultimately have to make for herself. It was astounding, really—Connie was so young and the world was so big, and at the same time she was growing up so fast that neither Doug or Priyanka could possibly keep up. He had started growing silver in his beard. There was a new box of toiletries in the third-floor bathroom just for Connie. The college fund was nearing a point where Doug was nervous to check in case it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Stephen would never go to college. Perhaps that was disingenuous, but there was no reason, not really. Doug truly wished he could know more about the boy his daughter was unconsciously crushing on, and every force in the universe was keeping them out. In the back of his mind, a sudden spark appeared: Connie probably knew more. And she wasn't telling them. Maybe she couldn't. Doug shut that thought away and pretended he'd never have to use it.

"They're awfully quiet up there," he muttered.

Doug and Priyanka exchanged a single glance. Moments later, it wasn't clear who was mimicking whom as they creaked as silently up the stairs as they could towards the hint of voices. Connie knew the rules: no closed doors, no dangerous activities, no shenanigans—not that Connie was prone to shenanigans, but the heart of an adolescent was filled with potential.

By the time they reached the third floor, the giggles and conversation were muted by the walls but very much present. The doors were still open, thank goodness. Doug looked down the short hallway to Connie's room and stepped forward. Priyanka's hand stayed his shoulder for just a moment. Her eyes signaled something he couldn't quite decipher. Still, he stilled himself. Priyanka moved past him into the doorway, then knocked on the frame.

"You two settling down?"

"Yes ma'am!"

"Yes'm!"

Maybe the pediatrician in Priyanka thought that Stephen would be less startled if she came in, since she knew him slightly better. As if Stephen was a wild animal—but, once again, that was too judgmental, and Doug chastised himself as he stepped up behind his wife and smiled over her shoulder.

Stephen's backpack slumped on Connie's desk chair, overseeing the spread of their afternoon activities. The boy was spread catlike across the sunbeam coming through Connie's window, lined paper arranged in front of him and books cloistered to the side. Connie sat cross-legged with her back against a beanbag and her phone in her hand. She grinned at her dad, half-naturally and half with that sensation of being caught doing absolutely nothing wrong.

"What's, uh, what's all this about?" Doug said, stirring his hand in the air.

"Letters!" Stephen crowed.

"We're looking at etymology a little, 'cause of the difference, y'know, why 'p-h' makes the 'f' sound," Connie said.

"Huh. Here I was thinking you were exhausted from education."

"Dad, it's different when you want to do it versus when you have to do it!" Connie laughed. "And when you're not being graded on it, either."

A valid point. Still, Doug marveled internally at the willingness Connie had to let Stephen sit there and learn. Whatever he could teach her was nothing compared to what she was teaching him. The man nodded sagely.

"As long as you're not headaching yourself and as long as you're following the rules. Maybe when you're ready for a break, you can get the chessboard out." Doug chuckled. "Connie's been practicing a little, but I bet I can give you a real run for your money."

Stephen narrowed his eyes and bit his lip in a cheeky grin. The challenge was on, of course, and the only deterrent was the fact that Doug could see the sharp points of Stephen's teeth as he pressed them into his skin, just enough to not break. Priyanka didn't say a thing as she put her hand on Doug's back. In the sunlight, the grayness of Stephen's eyes turned into a brilliant, unnatural silver.

Some people were just plain different. In his heart and in his stomach, Doug had a feeling he knew why Connie felt herself drawn to the weird kid with no background. Out of all the first real friends, she had picked the one who looked and acted like... Well, Doug didn't know the right word, but extraterrestrial came to mind. He was a polite little monster in a boy's body.

"I'll play my best!" Stephen growled.

"Heh! Wouldn't expect anything less."

"We'll let you two be. I'll be working on office notes and Mr. Maheswaran will be doing some housework," Priyanka said gently.

"We're gonna be up here for a bit," Connie said. "I've shown Stephen around, so we know where everything is."

"Good! Good."

And Doug wasn't lying—it was, in the most general and undefined sense, good. He wanted to stay and see what secrets Stephen and Connie could possibly divulge together, but then they wouldn't be secret anymore. The stony weight in his heart told him the truth of it: if Connie had friends her age, she'd be sharing things that Doug and Priyanka just wouldn't have access to. They had stayed away from her journals and she had her own bathroom to maintain. Everything was the same—even with a boy.

But Stephen wasn't an ordinary boy. Or maybe he was, and he just hadn't had the room to grow. There weren't many other reasons why he was spread out on Connie's floor, stretching his legs in the sun as he learned the basics of phonics. Nobody could know except for Stephen. Doug smiled back at the boy despite it all. Priyanka's hand was grateful as it pressed against his ribs.

There came a point where Doug realized he had stopped pretending to read his book, and it was about the same time he realized Stephen had fallen asleep with his hand in the popcorn bowl. The only points of light in the room were from the lamp over Doug's shoulder, the television screen where Doug had dragged the set down for the kids, and the faint glow from the kitchen and the upstairs landing. Priyanka had taken her leave shortly after sundown; a doctor's heavy schedule cared not about the freedoms of summer. Doug glanced down. It was an interesting book, for sure, some prize-winner about the mafia and war and mid-century diving, but he hadn't been able to focus over the sounds of swelling animated orchestras and occasional sword fighting.

Afternoon had seemed to stretch further than time should've allowed, and yet, it had been altogether pleasant. Stephen and Connie had spent most of their time upstairs, but they had been coaxed down for a few rounds of chess, some grid-combat games, and an early evening watching the stars come out. There hadn't been plans, and for once, it felt natural.

Doug had to admit that he had learned a thing or two as well. The spelling and trivia games that they had enjoyed as a family meant nothing to a boy who hadn't taken a history class or watched a news cycle in his life. Some acts of dexterity were easy to perform, but pantomiming was a mixed bag. Sometimes Stephen had near-encyclopedic knowledge of a random fact, and then Connie had to carefully explain how a remote control worked.

At least they had been right about pizza. There was nothing quite so heartwarming or disturbing as seeing the palpable gratitude oozing from Stephen's being when the pizza came. The genuine gratitude spoken between mouthfuls bordered on devotion. Clearly Stephen was well-fed, but pizza was a whole other world. Maybe the cheese and sauce just weren't accessible wherever he was staying; Doug thought about sharing how to make a decent pizza with home ingredients, but maybe that in itself bordered on apostacy. The perfect pie had to come out of industrialized nowhere, sprung from the lovely white boxes of factories beyond. Or maybe it was just more addictive on the palate with preservatives, who could say.

Either way, everyone's bellies had been filled by the time the dust and dusk had settled in equal measure. Connie's lineup of shows and movies would take them to bedtime. Following the first drama, which had kept Stephen's eyes to the screen even as Connie pointed out the story details and answered his whispered questions, it was clear that he was fading. Their little theater had been built for ease, after all—a corral of pillows around a comforter base with a light blanket on top. A bowl of popcorn barely separated the two as they sat and stared at the screen in starstruck bliss.

They had been staring, anyway; now it was just Connie, who smiled and leaned with her hands in her lap, occasionally glancing over at their guest as greens and reds played over his face. Playing her favorites for Stephen had been important, but sleep was a powerful force. Doug was reminded of his first high school crush, how she had left him at a history museum when he was sixteen and enthusiastically talking about the effects of globalism on technology, though in not so many words. Priyanka had liked that story.

This wasn't the place for them to sleep though. Throughout the afternoon, the discussion of who was sleeping where had been waylaid (or avoided) through chess strategies, pizza exuberance, and movie talk—whenever the kids weren't making their own fun.

Connie had already changed into her nightshirt and Stephen had changed into another pair of shorts, plus one of Greg Universe's oversized undershirts hanging off his shoulders. Stephen was a big kid but the shirt was practically a nightdress for him as well. None of that mattered as long as they were comfortable, and if the gentle snuffling wasn't enough, Doug could just tell that Stephen was satisfied. Good. That was half the battle.

But there hadn't been a battle. There hadn't been any point to this except to have a sleepover. That's what it should have been, and Doug felt strange when he thought about how much he and Priyanka had put into making this some kind of educational experience. Socialization was educational. He could hope.

Doug yawned and ignored the world and all its demand for reasoning, because his mission now was to get the kids to wherever they were sleeping. The first impediment was to get Stephen upright, and the second was whether he would fight for one place over another. Because Connie had converted her bunk into a nook, that first solution was unfortunately out of the question. One floor may as well be as comfortable as another.

"Dad?"

Connie's voice sang lowly over the credits. If the sweeping orchestra wasn't enough to wake Stephen, then she really didn't need to worry, but Doug kept his mouth shut. He nodded and set his book on the end table.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I think we're ready for the sleeping part of a sleepover."

"Now where would you ever get a notion like that?"

Stephen twitched in his sleep and snorted lowly. That there was a boy, all right. He could sleep anywhere, wear anything, let himself snore and snack without a care in the world. In his home environment, Doug thought about how rowdy Stephen could get, how often he'd jump fully clothed into the ocean. Connie had seen him swim before. Perhaps he lived close to the ocean.

Still, that conjecture was neither here nor there. Connie giggled and lifted her friend's hand from the popcorn with a gentle squeeze. Stephen's alien eyes fluttered open, dark lashes framing them like parentheses.

"Hnh...?"

"You fell asleep during Secrets of the Emerald Kingdom , silly."

"'m not silly. Being of the dream-watch. To knight."

What the hell? Outwardly, Doug chuckled. "Yes, and to-night you're gonna be sleeping good enough that your brain's gonna unscramble itself. C'mon, kids. Teeth and bed."

"A bed," Stephen yawned happily.

There wasn't a bed for him. Practically speaking, the kids could camp out down here and they'd probably be just fine. A couch was just as good as any. Doug wished he had thought about bringing up the air mattress, if they had it. Did they still have it? They certainly hadn't been camping in an age; there was always a chance it'd be in the old storage unit.

But Connie was already bringing the popcorn to the kitchen as Stephen flopped to the ground in an attempt to follow her with a lean. The boy twisted and squished himself onto his hands and knees before going into something that resembled downward dog, whatever that yoga position was. The undershirt slid down and crumpled up by his shoulder blades.

"If you two want to be in the same room, we can always put you on the couches down here," Doug said, loud enough that Connie could hear too. "Or, Stephen, you can be on the floor in Connie's room, get some blankets a comforter."

"Um, no...bed?"

Stephen sat back on his haunches, looking genuinely confused. Doug wasn't so soft as to not have an explanation on hand: he and Connie were too old to be sleeping in the same bed. Doug had his own experiences at family gatherings as a kid, but those were his cousins and distant family friends, and even the kids in the early teens were fine bunched up on a queen. For Connie, if she had had sleepovers with boys growing up—an unlikely scenario even without barring time travel—Doug would have put the cutoff at eight, maybe nine, definitely not into the double-digits.

And then, another thought struck him, a dreaded weight in his stomach. He cleared his throat.

"Young man, do you have a bed at home?"

Stephen paused and pressed his thumbs into his knuckles. His eyes wavered towards the carpet as he shrugged. So that was a no, then.

"St—"

"You can use my bed tonight!"

Connie had stumbled back into the living room so suddenly that Doug almost jumped ship. She gripped the arm of the couch and smiled a perfect panicked smile.

"I can take the floor tonight, and you can use my bed! It's a good mattress, it's comfy!" she said quickly. "Like you're trapped in the tower or something, and I'm like a knight who'll rescue you in the morning!"

Doug readjusted his glasses. "Connie, not everything has to be a magical fairytale. Save the witches for the woods and the, uh..."

"Sea monsters for the ocean?" she finished.

Connie smirked, and Stephen raised his arms up like some kind of jellyfish creature, a betentacled preteen with a heart of gold. As the kids giggled, Doug stood and stretched his back, trying not to wince as little lightning bolts radiated through his bones and muscles.

"Take your pick. Either way—as long as you two can work out a reasonable arrangement."

"Maybe we can both camp out on my floor for a night. So we don't have to be totally distant and nobody's fighting for space."

It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't too bad. The worst-case scenario just wouldn't happen. If Stephen snored, or had bladder issues, or felt homesick, then it would've come up by now. Doug had to have some sort of faith that there was nothing to worry about. The fact that worry was eating him up didn't make sense, and yet, he didn't have it in him to argue.

"If it gets too uncomfortable, someone will have to be the bigger person, but..." Doug gestured. "Something tells me you can sleep anywhere, Stephen, so I guess Connie's the odd one out."

Connie pshawed and put her hands on her hips. "I've fallen asleep on the road plenty of times. Maybe it won't be quite as cushy, but it's like camping! Except in my room. Without a fireplace or marshmallows. Ooh. We should do s'mores one night."

Something told Doug that if Connie explained that to Stephen, the boy would be drooling and dreaming throughout the night without a wink of sleep. He sighed and rolled his shoulders before going to pick up the television. It was too late at night to think about wall mounting and a bigger screen. Behind him, Connie and Stephen began to gather the blankets and murmur about their little campout. Stephen's little rings of muted laughter were melodic and genuine; Doug wanted to know so badly what it would be like to catch Stephen in an actual lie.

How horrible a man he was. It was far from unreasonable though, a truth of parenting that the boy simply didn't have foisted upon him. Whether or not he suffered for it was beyond Doug's understanding. Lying was a skill of survival and a form of power. Stephen's genuine nature astounded Doug sometimes. Throughout the afternoon, he had only joked, never snarked; he had asked polite questions, rarely interrupting; he had payed close attention to details in conversations, and tried to badly to hide when he didn't understand a reference or a joke. But did he try. What Doug knew about the world was that children like Stephen needed some kind of anchor. Rosa couldn't possibly be that base, not in the way that he and Priyanka were for Connie, not when she had omitted everything about her life and lied to their faces without a word. Doug knew in his heart that Stephen wasn't telling them everything, because he had been at ease around Rosa in a way that was far too innocent—and if he was truly so innocent, he would have laid out some discrepancies. No, he had something to hide. And it probably wasn't any of Doug's business in the first place. Being a father was about survival, too, but a child's path changed everything. Greg Universe had a monumental task ahead of him.

"Camping in the van!" Stephen whispered.

That comment snapped Doug out of his meditation as he turned to raise an exhausted eyebrow. Stephen and Connie turned, blankets in arms, looking rightfully sheepish.

"Just saying, just that we—we could be—" Stephen stammered as he fought a yawn. " Hrf! We could be... We could camp, almost. With Mister Universe. Van for sleep."

"That thing is barely big enough for him, much less him and two kids. Unless you're going to be sleeping in a beach tent—no, no no, back up, this is a bit much already." Doug waved his hand limply in the air. "Let's try to end this sleepover on a good note before we make any crazy plans. Frankly, I doubt that I could talk Dr. Maheswaran into this, even if she was open to Connie going over to your...place, Stephen."

"Not mine!"

"Greg's, right. The point stands."

Perhaps Connie could go on a reconnaissance mission to find out what Stephen did, what his family was actually like. The thought nearly made Doug's stomach churn with how dangerous it could be, all things considered. If it turned out that Stephen's family was merely bohemian, then so be it. All the mystery just made danger too easy a culprit—a conclusion, rather.

The kids let out little faux-disappointed noises regardless. Connie must have known that there was a chance, since she had been jokingly and not-so-jokingly told no boys for as long as boys had been around her. Doug wished he could feel worse, because that's what his instincts said he should feel. Whatever good they had been before, they were no good now. Instead, the man put his hands on his hips and nodded up to the stairs.

"Go get yourselves brushed and ready. Someone'll be in to settle you down soon," he said.

"Okay, okay..."

Connie could have been disappointed at the lack of sleepover shenanigans, and with someone as closely aligned as Stephen, Doug could imagine them staying up past the stroke of dawn talking about nothing at all. But as the pair trundled up the stairs, Doug knew she was just happy she was here.

Mystery—mystery really was the key and the lock here, this area where Doug realized: he didn't know how to be a parent around another child. Obviously they had done well enough, but he had to imagine what it would've been like if Connie had had a school friend who was well-versed in pop culture, who could sing along to subtitles, who read the same adventures without having to learn how first. He could only imagine how much more embarrassed Connie would've been, actually. Stephen's distance meant that they were all learning, and that Connie was allowed to keep her secrets, just as Stephen had kept his.

But he knew they were keeping secrets. Maybe, in the end, Stephen was keeping secrets from them for his own safety, if he knew he was keeping secrets at all. He certainly was keeping secrets from himself. Doug smirked as he stopped on the second stair's landing. Connie and Stephen had flounced up to her bathroom, and he could hear the muted footsteps going from door to door.

One day, they'd have to have another talk, about dates and drives and seriousness with emotions and school. One day. Doug walked into the master bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him. He could already hear his wife's slow, marked breathing from their bed.

Priyanka couldn't be too mad at him for not putting his clothes away properly, not when all the opening and closing could wake her up. Doug smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt and watched her shift a leg underneath the thin covers. If he thought that he had been stressing about Stephen, well, there was just no contest. This felt like the most peaceful he had seen Priyanka rest since Connie's accident. The man sloughed off his day's outerwear, then folded it, then put it on top of the hamper. He had left out a pair of college sweatpants, and he pulled them on as he made another exit. By the time he'd be back, he'd have found a space in his mind to be forgiven for possibly waking Pri with the sink and toilet afterwards.

As soon as he was out of the room, Doug could hear next to nothing. There was no latent light from the bathroom upstairs or sounds of running water. He pressed one bare foot into the steps at a time, quietly as he could. This was the first time saying goodnight where he wasn't trying to make himself heard.

A faint glow shone from underneath Connie's door. Doug looked out the window into the suburban darkness for just one second before taking a deep breath and leaning in. His hand rested right above the knob as he pressed his ear as close to the door as he dared.

They were whispering. And of course they were whispering, quietly enough that Doug could barely make out a word or two— wear, take, ocean . His espionage told him nothing except that he should probably have been ashamed of himself for even trying. Whatever he could hope to uncover, it wasn't any weirder than how Connie usually talked about the things she liked, this time with someone she could be weird with just the same. How pure it could've been from the other side, maybe: if Stephen had no pop culture connections and stayed out of the world's way, the things he liked must've been so extra-perspectival that it would be like the whole world was new.

Doug suppressed a sigh. He was losing his mind. His daughter had a friend with a determined sharp-toothed grin and alien eyes and a wrestler's body and seaweed hair and zero education, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. All of the rules and regulations were meaningless when Connie had already shown herself willing to do whatever it took to keep this friendship going. If he pushed, she was at an age where she'd push back.

A light laugh broke him out of his static, as well as the sound of something soft hitting the floor. Now was as good a time as any. Doug once again summoned future forgiveness before he closed on the doorknob and slowly, but steadily, opened the door.

Connie was already grinning at him from the top of the ladder, as if she had expected this. At the bottom, Stephen was laying on his back, his butt scooted up against the ladder's base, with his legs leaning nigh-vertically against its high angle. Connie's comforter was piled next to him from where it had been tossed, and he was pulling a pillow from where Connie had apparently tossed it at his face. A couple stuffed animals and a blanket were already strewn, quiet victims of the teen's assault.

"I am attacked!" Stephen mewled.

"Oh, for goodness' sake."

"C'mon, dad, it's like guests in medieval times!" Connie said. " Hail and well met!"

The girl let out a mollified war cry as she tossed a rabbit down to Stephen. Stephen shot out both his hands as the creature smacked him plushly in the face. Doug surveyed the scene as both children proceeded to lose their minds, apparently, in mouth-covering laughter at each other's role. Hilarious indeed. Doug inhaled deeply as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

"You two—alright, alright, yes, very funny, but lights out in five minutes. Or whenever you get this all cleaned up. Connie, please, your bedding..."

"We're just getting things together!" Connie swung herself around and climbed down the latter as Steven pushed out of the way. "We'll be cleaned up, dad, promise."

"Yes'r! We will be clean as teeth and hands."

Doug crossed his arms. "Pick whatever analogy you'd like. And I assume you've also picked out who's sleeping where?"

"Well..."

Connie glanced around the floor as Stephen began to gather up the pillows and animals. He arranged them in a pile near Connie's desk, straightening them and squeezing them carefully as if trying to learn their texture. As he worked and Connie floundered, the knot of Doug's arms only grew tighter.

"We don't really have sleeping bags, so we thought we'd put a blanket or two down, and then a sheet on top," Connie said. "Something real simple."

So basically, a single bed, but larger and with more excuses. Clearly Connie knew this was an excuse, and she could barely look Doug's way. Stephen happily trucked along, but he stopped as he was spreading out one of the blankets, looking between Connie's embarrassment and Doug's hopefully-not-too-stony face in confusion. There wasn't much to be confused about, or at least there shouldn't have been, but with Stephen, everything was a bit of a curveball.

"Hey, buddy, tell me—" Doug cleared his throat. "What are your usual sleeping arrangements like?"

"Dad!"

"Sir?"

"Just, y'know, do you have your own bedroom, do you share a space, is your bed nice, whatever."

Stephen opened his mouth as if trying to ask for something more clarifying, but he couldn't make out the meaning of the question. Doug broke apart his arms and slid them into his pockets, trying to act more casual than he felt. The boy moved to a kneeling position, patting his thighs and pulling at the hem of his shorts.

"We...sleep, all together," he said quietly. "One—room."

"Yeah? Alright, makes sense, a little more social."

Do you wear pajamas, or your day clothes, or does anyone have decency at all? Do you have a bed? Are you safe? Do you wish you had a bed, or a roof, or a place to feel secure? What have you told Connie that you're not telling us? Are you safe? Does Greg Universe know about any of this, too? Why the hell has my wife been acting as though Greg's a stranger now? Doesn't she trust him after all this time? Does she trust you? Is my daughter safe?

A chill crawled over Doug as he shook out his questions to mask the nervous bitterness. He smiled, despite himself. Of course Connie was safe. Stephen had saved her life once, and the magnitude of that act shook Doug in a way that he couldn't fully place. Maybe he never could. Maybe it would haunt him whenever he looked at those silver eyes.

The man stepped forward and knelt. Perhaps it was too paternal, but Stephen perked up from his anxious readiness as Doug put a hand on his shoulder. Connie was making nearly imperceptible noises of squeamish embarrassment next to them, and Doug almost felt bad for her.

"Hey, as long as you feel safe here, we're happy to have you in our home, Stephen," he murmured. "You're a good kid. And we trust you."

"I—am trusting you, too, Mister Maheswaran."

"One of these days, we'll have to treat you to breakfast at the farmer's market in the morning. It's a long walk—maybe you and Connie can bike down. You..."

He hesitated. Stephen's grin turned lopsided, because he knew the question that was coming just as much as Doug knew the answer.

"You've never ridden a bicycle before, have you."

"No sir."

Doug chuckled and turned to his red-faced daughter. "Then we'll have to stick to dad's pancakes for now. Maybe we'll throw in those sprinkles we never get a chance to use. Your mother will make you use all that extra sugar energy helping around th—"

The breath left him as Stephen suddenly, gently, embraced him. Connie couldn't help but smile at Doug's flummoxing. He had expected some thanks or enthusiasm, but not quite a hug. It was sincere, like everything Stephen gave to the world. Doug couldn't even protest as he put a hand on Stephen's back and patted it while raising his eyebrows in Connie's direction. He wasn't any more or less of a hugger than any person, not in the same way that Stephen was absolutely a hugger, it seemed. His body felt too small somehow, too small and distinctly warm. Doug couldn't begin to explain why.

"Thank you," Stephen said as he slipped away.

"Well. Um. You're welcome, Stephen."

That was the end of it then. Doug began to stand when Connie stepped over and kissed him on the cheek, at the perfect height in between motions. She always knew when and where to strike. Doug returned the kiss on his daughter's forehead, chuckling as he stood up fully.

"Thanks again for this, dad. All of it."

"You're welcome, darlin' girl. Love you."

"Love you too."

Doug stepped over the array of fabrics as he made his way to the open door. The fairy lights were going to be on all night, or at least he had a feeling. Stephen's imprint still felt warm against his torso, but not as warm as where Connie's kiss had touched his cheek. Before closing the kids in, Doug glanced back one last time.

"Get some rest, you two."

"G'night!"

They were imperfectly synchronized. Doug didn't bother to listen for their whispers as he headed down the hall. He'd never know. He couldn't intimidate Stephen and he couldn't betray his daughter. And there would never be any reason to. Acceptance was a horrible feeling sometimes—not because the not-knowing hurt, but because in the future, when something inevitably terrible happened, Doug would know: it was because he didn't push hard enough in moments like these. He didn't take that trust and use it to make solutions out of the problems that had not yet become problems. This was, he knew, the definition of paranoia.

Whatever good anxiety did him, it didn't do enough to offset the guilt of feeling it as soon as he'd left the kids so happy. They were happy now. In the future, they could think of happy moments and it might ease some of the phantom pain. Doug had to believe in something good. Connie deserved it, and Stephen, at the absolute minimum, needed it.

Down the stairs and in the bedroom, Doug readied himself for bed in a haze. He scrubbed his teeth of latent pizza grease that he should've taken care of hours earlier, looked at his tired wrinkles and bagged eyes in the mirror, and spat at the side of the sink to minimize noise. He pushed at the thick silver hairs in his stubble. He stretched his back cautiously so as to not hurt himself again. He felt old. He felt like he'd just become a parent yesterday.

Once the thousand other rituals were taken care of and he was sufficiently out of his miasma and into an fog, Doug stumbled back into the bedroom and finally took off his glasses. As he sat at the edge of the bed, the heat of summer caught up to him again. It was warm enough, wasn't it. Doug shoved his sweatpants to his knees and shimmied them to the ground. His boxers and bare legs scratched differently against the sheets as he pulled himself fully onto the mattress. Priyanka, like she always had, woke up in half-attention and half-uncertainty, but she barely rolled her head towards her husband.

"What time is it?"

"Late enough. But the rugrats are bedded down."

"Separate beds?"

Doug hesitated. "They've got a whole floor to figure it out. They're roughing it."

"Mm."

The smell of unscented shampoo, which he swore had a scent no matter how much Priyanka protested, was starting to waft up from the sheets. Doug found it somewhat comforting, and he liked falling asleep to it, even though Priyanka would say that it meant it was time to change the sheets and that they'd been saturating them too long. She was right, and Doug loved the smell anyway, and he'd come up behind her on the days where Connie left and they were alone in the house, just to hug her and smell the nothingness she insisted wasn't there.

Tonight, Doug pulled himself behind his wife, and almost spooned her, though he knew it was too hot to touch. She shifted her body; she shifted herself towards him, even though she'd never admit to it. Doug sighed and lifted a hand above the sheets to trace her arm lovingly anyway.

Priyanka pushed a foot back against her husband's shin. "That woman," she muttered, "who dropped Stephen off—had no shoes. And nothing under that shirt."

"Huh," said Doug, "I hadn't noticed."