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“Okay buddy, hold the line like this..” Xander put the tiny stick wrapped in string in the six year old’s hands, “you hold onto the outside pieces, not the string.” Attached to the board and string was a colorful diamond shaped kite.
The kite was striped in brilliant red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple.
“It’s pretty.” The little boy said with awe.
“Yep, and when it flies it's like magic.” Xander made sure Tate was holding the stick, then walked the kite out about ten feet and placed it on the soft grass. “All we need now is some wind.”
A breeze snuck up fast, he’d angled the kite to catch it, “now walk slowly.” He called out.
Tate gave a serious nod, then did as instructed, walking slowly against the wind. Xander took a hold of the string somewhere between Tate and the kite, feeling the tension. The kite wobbled in the air, barely above the ground, shot sideways, then abruptly jerked upwards as the air caught it fully.
“Keep going buddy.” Tate, as serious as only a small child could be, nodded as he walked, barely looking at the kite as all his focus was on the ground as he marched.
“Give it a little line — just a little.”
Tate loosed his grip, and the stick twirled in a controlled spin, letting more string go as the kite picked up altitude.
The kite moved awkwardly as it climbed, as unsure of its path as the little boy guiding it, zigzagging left and right, it seemed more like fishing than flying. But finally sure of itself, the colorful diamond shaped kite flew higher and higher, all the while Xander gently instructed the boy to give it more line.
“Lift up your hand,” he told Tate as the kite dipped a little, “when it dips, put it up a little.” The pair watched the diamond shape fly higher, still running through the sky left and right, as if it were alive. “That’s it buddy, guide it when it tries to nose dive, it’ll respond to your movements.”
Tate grinned and did as he was told, giving it a careful tug. He could feel every movement of the wind through the kite, every tug, every flutter of the fabric, it did feel like magic.
Xander quietly walked beside the grinning boy, a smile tugging at his own lips at Tate’s pure enthusiasm. His own dad had never taken him flying.
But his grandfather did, his mother’s dad. When he was little, before Sunnydale went crazy, his mom would take him on summer trips to Louisiana. His pop-pop loved to take him fishing, flying kites, even swimming when the gators were away.
He never thought he’d get to pass this down.
“We’re flying, daddy.” Tate said with a laugh.
Xander almost choked, pressure building in his chest, Tate had never called him that before. “We sure are, buddy.”
Grinning, Tate took off, running back and forth while the little kite followed, and Xander tried to keep up. His laughter was infectious, and the pair of them watched the kite zig and zag, a little fish in the air, having almost as much fun as they were on the ground. Almost.
Nearly an hour later this is how Monica found the pair, laughing and exhausted, gazing up at the sky while they ran back and forth through the grass. She hung back out of their eye line, not wanting to break up this moment just yet. But supper was ready, and she didn’t want it to get cold.
“Okay boys, you’ve had your fun, but it's time for dinner.”
“But moooom,” Tate drew out the title as only a child truly can, “dad and I are still having fun.”
Soft dark eyes turned to panic brown, but she was smiling, “the sky will still be there after dinner. Now go wash up.”
Passing the spool to Xander, Tate went in for a quick hug, before running off towards the house. Which left Xander holding the kite, not knowing what to say.
“I didn’t tell him to call me that, he just strung it on me, if –” Xander didn’t really know what to say, “if that's not okay, I understand, I don’t want to step on anyone's toes.”
Monica just shook her head. “If Tate’s father wanted to be in his life, he would be. But he doesn’t and he’s not.” Reaching between them, she took his hand, and together they held the spool. “You are.”
They started to pull in the string slowly, both comfortable in the silence. “You’re the only dad he’s ever known, you are his dad.”
She watched him nod, and try not to cry, and felt her own eyes sting a little.
“Now, I heard something about dinner?” He inquired with a half grin, his eyes only a little misty.
“I’d hurry up, or Tate will finish off the mashed potatoes before either of us can get any.” Together they guided the kite down, then walked hand in hand towards their little house.
