Archive of Our Own

Henry Lasso was eight years old, and he knew a lot of things.

He knew his dad made the best pancakes in the world. He also knew his dad thought he made the best pancakes in the world, which were slightly different things, and it was important to not mix them up.

He knew Richmond was rainy, but in a way that was okay, like the rain had somewhere to be, not like it was mad at you.

He knew his mom was happy in Kansas, and he knew that this was allowed. She had explained it to him carefully, and he had thought about it for a long time, turning it over like a rock to see what might be underneath. In the end, he decided she was right.

His parents were just better at being apart than they were at being together. That was a fact, like Richmond being rainy.

And his dad was happier here. Henry could tell, the way you could tell things about people you’ve known your whole life.

So what if sometimes, late at night when he was almost asleep, Henry felt the distance between him and his dad like something heavy sitting on his chest?

He learned not to talk about that part.

And not because his dad wouldn’t listen, but because Henry knew it would only make him sad, and Henry never wanted his dad to be sad.

But there were other things Henry knew, too. 

Maybe one day, he’d tell people he knew about Miss Rebecca before he ever met her, all because of his dad’s notebook.

— ✦ —

His dad always drew things. Henry had always known that, the same way you just know which parent can kill spiders and which one calls for backup.

Some dads cooked. Some dads sang. His dad did both, sometimes at the same time, which already made him kind of weird, but he also drew.

Usually, he drew the things he was paying attention to.

Henry had a whole folder of them at home. His favorite flower, the old neighbor’s dog Biscuit mid-bark, his mom’s favorite mug with the chip on the handle. When his dad drew something, it meant he was really looking at it.

So when Henry came to Richmond for the third or fourth time and he found the new notebook on the coffee table, he opened it without really thinking, like when you walk into a room you’ve always been allowed in.

There were notes all through it. Passwords. Tactics and soccer plays he’d have to ask about later. Some appointments his dad probably shouldn’t forget. The usual.

And then there were the drawings.

The same office, over and over. A big desk, tall windows, the pitch below. His dad had drawn it from different angles, like he was still figuring it out.

And there was a woman.

Drawn more than once, which was the part Henry noticed.

Tall, from the way his dad drew her next to the furniture. Mostly from behind, or at an angle. Like he was still trying to get her right.

Henry looked at those drawings for a while.

Then he put the notebook back exactly where it had been and went to watch television, because some things you noticed and kept to yourself for a bit. That was just sense. You didn’t say everything the second you thought it. You waited. You watched how things were going to go.

He was eight.

He was not an amateur.

— ✦ —

Each time Henry visited after that, he checked his dad’s notebook.

He tried to be subtle about it, waiting until his dad was on the phone or making food, then flipping through like he was just looking for something to do.

The drawings of the office kept coming. The windows. The desk. The pitch, which his dad seemed to think was very important. The team. Jamie. Roy. Even Uncle Beard.

And the woman… she’d been drawn so many times now, each time with a little more detail. And Henry knew that wasn’t random. If someone got more than one page, they were really important.

But one drawing made Henry really pause. It was her hand, and the exact way she held a pen.

Henry had always known his dad was a little strange. Stranger than most other dads, anyway.

But that drawing… he didn’t really know what to do with that.

What did it mean when grown-ups drew a hand like that? Was that a thing?

Maybe he’d look it up later.

He could even Google it, if his dad let him play on the iPad.

— ✦ —

He met Miss Rebecca on a Saturday, by accident.

His dad had left him with Uncle Beard, had asked him, “can you watch him for two seconds, I’ll be right back,” and Henry had wandered off, because two seconds was not a real amount of time, and Uncle Beard had gotten very busy reading a book.

He found a staircase, and then a hallway, and then a door that was open just enough to feel like an invitation.

The second he walked into the room, he knew it was the same office from the drawings.

The woman looked up from her desk. She was tall even sitting down, which Henry thought was impressive, and her hair was really pretty. She looked a little surprised to see him, but not in a bad way. More like she’d been expecting a knock first.

“You must be Henry,” she said, her voice warm but a little bit formal, like when you went to a nice hotel. “Your dad’s told me a great deal about you.”

“Good things?” Henry asked, feeling very curious all of a sudden.

“Almost exclusively.” She said it very seriously, which somehow made it funnier. “I’m Rebecca.”

She held out her hand for him to shake, and Henry liked her immediately.

He shook her hand, and then something caught his attention.

Henry’s eyes went straight to the little dish of chocolates on her desk. They were the good kind, not the cheap kind. He could tell just by looking. His mom often said that was his superpower.

Miss Rebecca offered him one without making a big deal of it, which he liked. Some adults acted like giving you a snack was a huge favor, and that was just weird.

She also slid a pink box of cookies toward him. Henry recognized it right away. His dad had been carrying it earlier when he dropped him off with Uncle Beard, holding it very carefully and saying he’d be right back.

Henry took a cookie and bit right into it. 

It was delicious. 

He looked around the office while he chewed on another bite, and she let him, which he appreciated.

When he paused by her books, she asked, “Are you reading anything at the moment?”

So Henry told her about the whale book he got recently.

Miss Rebecca asked four follow-up questions. All of them good ones, not the kind adults asked when they were just being polite.

She wanted to know how whales found their way, and if he thought they minded the cold, and whether he’d read the one about the whale that fought a ship, because that was a true story and she thought he’d like it.

He hadn’t read it yet, but he thought he’d like it, and he told her so.

She listened the way his dad listened. Properly. And Henry could tell Miss Rebecca wouldn’t stop listening halfway through his answers. Just like his dad.

Henry had always known that was unusual. He’d spent enough time around other kids’ parents to know most adults didn’t really listen all the way. They listened a bit, then their eyes wandered, then they came back and nodded like they’d been there the whole time.

His dad had never been like that.

Miss Rebecca didn’t seem to be like that either.

Interesting, Henry thought, and took another piece of chocolate.

— ✦ —

His dad found them in Miss Rebecca’s office almost twenty minutes later.

Henry heard him before he saw him. There were footsteps in the hallway, and then his dad appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up a bit and his face doing something weird.

“There he is.” His dad looked at Henry, then at Miss Rebecca, then back at Henry. “I was looking for you, bud! Thought I said to stay with Beard.”

“Uncle Beard was reading.”

Henry knew that was all the explanation needed. When Uncle Beard read, the rest of the world stopped existing a little bit. It didn’t mean he didn’t care about Henry, because he did, and he was Henry’s favorite uncle, but books had a special hold on him.

“He was –” His dad paused. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

He turned to Miss Rebecca, and his voice changed, it sounded a little more careful. 

“Boss, I am so sorry. He wandered off, and I– This won’t happen again. He knows he ain’t supposed to—”

“Ted.” She said simply. “He was perfectly welcome. We were talking about whales.”

“Whales,” his dad repeated, sounding really confused.

“The book I’m reading,” Henry added, knowing that would be helpful.

His dad looked at Miss Rebecca. Miss Rebecca looked at his dad. Henry looked at both of them.

His dad’s face did something then. It was quick, there and gone. He went a little red, starting somewhere near his ears, and he smiled, but not his usual smile. Smaller. Like he was trying to keep it from getting too big.

“Well,” his dad said. “Alright then.”

— ✦ —

They went back down to the pitch together after that, his dad’s hand resting on his shoulder. 

Jamie Tarrt was his favorite player and the way he was dribbling right about now made soccer look so easy. He wanted to play soccer just like Jamie Tartt, but his mom didn't like him practicing his dribbling in her backyard because he always managed to trample her plants.

Henry ran ahead when he spotted Uncle Beard, because he wanted to tell him about the book, the one with the whale that fought the ship.

Then he remembered.

“Dad! I forgot to say goodbye to Miss Rebecca!”

His dad paused, like he was thinking about it, and then smiled. “Well… You know what you gotta do.”

Henry turned and ran all the way back up the stairs.

Miss Rebecca looked up from her desk when he appeared, and Henry thought she might have already been smiling, just a little, before she even saw him.

“Forgot to say goodbye,” he said. “Dad said I could come back to say goodbye.”

She came around the desk and crouched down to his level, which took a second, because she was very tall, and she gave him a hug. She smelled like something nice. Flowers, maybe. Or what really nice flowers were supposed to smell like.

“Goodbye, Henry,” she said. “Come find me next time.”

“I will,” he said, already turning to go.

“Henry?”

He looked back.

“Thank you for coming back to say goodbye. That was really sweet of you.”

Henry smiled wide. He knew he was missing a front tooth, but his mom said it made him charming, so he hoped that was true.

Rebecca smiled back, and he ran down the stairs again.

When he got back to the pitch, his dad was standing by the gate.

And his face did a weird thing again, and then he looked back at the drills, quickly, like he’d been watching them the whole time.

Henry filed that away with everything else.

He was, after all, keeping track.

— ✦ —

“I like Miss Rebecca,” Henry said.

They were walking back to the apartment, the evening gone cool and grey the way Richmond evenings did, like the city was asking you to put on a cardigan and behave properly.

“Yeah?” his dad said, in the voice that meant he was trying to sound casual.

Henry knew all his dad’s voices by now. There was the everything’s-fine voice, and the I’m-very-excited-about-this voice, and the one he used when he was trying not to show that something mattered.

This was that one.

“She’s your morning person,” Henry said.

His dad went quiet for a second. “Yeah… Uh… Where’d you hear that?”

“You wrote it,” Henry said. “In your notebook. Under the drawing with the cookies.”

He had most of it memorized, actually.

Biscuits on her desk, her laughter coming next,

and somehow she’s become my morning person.

Like the sun deciding where it wants to rest… Aw, heck…

Henry didn’t remember the rest, but he knew it was good.

He really thought it was a good poem. He had considered telling his dad that, but decided to keep it to himself.

“Bud,” he said a little sternly and his dad shot him a look. “Just so we’re clear, those are biscuits. Them British folks are pretty serious about that particular distinction.”

Henry sighed. The kind of sigh you did when you were carrying a great and important burden.

“Biscuits,” he corrected himself. 

“So Rebecca gave you some of her biscuits, huh,” his dad said, in a voice that wasn’t quite a statement and wasn’t quite a question.

“She did,” Henry confirmed.

“Huh.” His dad nodded slowly, like he was putting that somewhere important. “You know she doesn’t usually share those. So…” He bumped Henry’s shoulder gently. “You must be pretty darn special.”

Henry stopped walking. “I am special.”

His dad instantly beamed at him. “That you are.” A pause. “How were they? The biscuits?”

He brought his hands together in one serious, decisive clap and made the sound his dad always made.

“Seal of approval,” he announced, exactly like him, because he had learned from the best.

His dad laughed deeply and ruffled his hair. “Well, darn. That’s very nice, bud.” He paused. “But we’re gonna have to talk about the notebook.”

Something dropped a little in Henry’s stomach.

“Hey, hey.” His dad noticed right away, like he always did. “I don’t mind you looking. You know that.” He nudged Henry’s shoulder with his arm. “But what I write in there… About Rebecca, about any of it… That’s gotta stay between you and me. You think you can do that?”

“Keep your secret?”

“Exactly right.”

“Like a vault,” Henry said, because that was something his dad always said.

“Just like a vault.”

They started walking again.

Henry thought about the drawings, and the poem, and the way his dad’s face had gone red at the ears, and decided this was probably the right moment.

“Do you like Miss Rebecca? Like, like-like. Not just as a friend.”

His dad made a sound that wasn’t quite a word.

“It’s okay,” Henry said. “If you do.”

His dad stopped walking.

Henry waited. He had learned this about adults. Sometimes they needed a moment to catch up, even when it wasn’t new information. Even when it was something they already knew. You just had to give them a second to get there.

By the time they reached their building, his dad still hadn’t said anything.

Henry took that as his answer and took his dad’s keys and went inside, settling on the couch with his Switch, which had been waiting all afternoon.

His dad came in and stood in the kitchen for a bit, not really doing anything.

Henry didn’t comment on it.

Adults, he had learned, sometimes needed a minute.

So he gave his dad one.

It turned out to be several minutes.

But eventually his dad came over and sat down on the other end of the couch and watched him play, the way he sometimes did, and it was quiet and comfortable, and Henry didn’t push.

Then, after a while, his dad said, “Hey, can you pause that for a sec?”

Henry paused it.

His dad was looking somewhere in the middle distance, which was something he did when he was about to say something real.

“I think I do,” he said. “I mean… like-like Miss Rebecca.”

Henry nodded. Mostly because it meant, most importantly, one very good thing.

Miss Rebecca could be his friend now. Officially.

Like, she could come over. She could play Mario Kart. She would probably be really good at Mario Kart, Henry decided. She seemed like someone who would be competitive in a fun way.

“Can we call her?” Henry asked. “And ask her to come play Mario Kart with us?”

His dad blinked. “I– yeah, bud, I could call her.”

“Now?”

His dad looked at the phone. Looked at Henry. Looked at the phone again.

“Sure,” he said, in the casual voice, which meant it was not casual at all.

But he called.

And she said yes.

— ✦ —

She knocked at seven on the dot, which Henry thought was a good sign. Punctual people were reliable people. That was just a fact.

Henry watched from the couch with interest as his dad opened the door and immediately became about fifteen percent more awkward than usual. 

“Rebecca! Hey. Hi.”

“Hi, Ted.” Miss Rebecca paused and looked right at him. “Henry.”

Henry tipped an imaginary hat to her, like his dad did sometimes. He decided right away it wasn’t really his thing, but he had to try it to know for sure.

“Come in,” his dad said. “Please. Come in.”

She stepped inside, removed her scarf, and looked around the apartment with the kind of curiosity that wasn’t nosy, just interested.

She was dressed softer than she was at the office, more like a regular person, and her hair was a little looser, and Henry decided she looked really nice.

His dad had changed into more comfortable clothes too. An old Beatles t-shirt his mom always said he should throw away, but his dad always pretended not to hear her.

“I love your shirt,” Miss Rebecca said, like she really did.

“It’s a bit—” his dad began.

“It looks cozy,” she said, cutting in gently. “And that color looks very good on you, Ted.”

His dad’s ears went pink and he smiled like he didn’t know what to do with that. “Well, shucks, Boss.” 

But Henry had been patient long enough. He couldn’t wait for his dad to find something else to say, or even a compliment to give back, because one, his dad was never speechless so this being new territory, it could take a while for him to come up with something, and two, he really needed to find out how good Miss Rebecca was at Mario Kart.

He climbed off the couch, crossed the room, and took Miss Rebecca’s hand. It was a decisive move, and he felt pretty good about it.

“You’re here to play Mario Kart,” he said. “I’ve already picked the tracks.”

Miss Rebecca let herself be led. “Have you.”

“It’s all about strategy,” Henry said. “You’ll see.”

Behind them, his dad made a sound that was half laugh and half something a bit more helpless.

Henry sat down on the couch and handed Miss Rebecca a Joy-Con right away. His dad joined them on the couch, sitting next to him. 

“Right,” she said, looking at it with very serious concentration. “How does this work?”

Henry showed her.

She picked Rosalina on the first try without asking any questions, which Henry respected, and by the third race she was taking corners he hadn’t even shown her, leaning into the turns with her whole body like that would help, which of course it didn’t, but Henry still found it very funny.

He thought it was funny because his dad did the same thing. Maybe that was just something grown-ups did when they played Mario Kart.

“Ha!” She leaned forward when she crossed the finish line ahead of them, then immediately tried to look more composed. “Sorry. Is that… Was that rude?”

“No,” Henry said, already hitting rematch. “It means you’re good.”

Henry turned to his dad, ready to tell him off for coming in last, because his dad was supposed to be better than that.

But his dad was smiling at nothing in particular, not really looking at anything at all.

Henry beat Miss Rebecca in the fourth race, which was easier than it should have been because his dad had stopped trying and was just looking at Miss Rebecca instead. She immediately demanded a fifth. That settled it. She was competitive in exactly the fun way Henry had thought she would be.

They were a lot of races in, and she was getting way better than expected, she could even drift now, and that was exactly when Henry’s stomach made a very loud rumbling sound.

It was extremely loud.

Miss Rebecca looked at him. Henry looked down, focusing very hard on his hands.

“That was my stomach,” he said, a little embarrassed.

“I gathered,” she said.

His dad nudged him with his shoulder. “Okay, how about this,” he said. “You two keep playing, I’ll make us some dinner. Sound good?”

“Yes, please,” Henry said.

His dad looked at Miss Rebecca, and his voice went just a little careful, the way it did when something really mattered. “Rebecca, I hope this is okay, but – and please feel free to veto here – Hen asked for dino nuggets earlier today, and I was thinkin’ maybe…”

“Dino nuggets,” Miss Rebecca repeated.

“Dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, yeah, they’re kinda our—”

“Ted.” She turned to him properly, warm and serious at the same time, with a little smile. And suddenly Henry understood why his dad drew her so much. She was really pretty. “I would love to eat some dino nuggets with my two favorite Lassos.”

Something happened to his dad’s face. The pink at the ears again, and that smile he kept trying to keep small.

“Cool,” his dad said, very quietly. “Okay. Great.”

He disappeared into the kitchen. Henry heard the freezer open, and then, faintly, what might have been a small, celebratory noise his dad thought no one could hear.

Henry looked at the television.

“He’s really excited about the nuggets,” he said. “He buys them for me, but I think he likes dinosaurs too.”

“Mmhm,” said Miss Rebecca, and Henry could hear the smile in it.

“Ready for another race?” Henry asked.

“Ready.”

— ✦ —

Dinner was a little strange, but in a good way. His dad and Miss Rebecca kept looking at each other funny, like they were both trying not to look for too long.

At one point, his dad told him to go wash up and put his pajamas on.

“Promise you’ll still be here when I get back,” Henry said, looking at Miss Rebecca.

“I promise,” Miss Rebecca told him.

When he came back, she was still there, just like she promised.

So he showed her his Lego sets.

His three favorites. The Botanical Garden. The tiny bookshop with the working door. The Space Shuttle, which had taken eleven days.

Rebecca leaned over the table, her hands clasped behind her back, looking at the sets with what Henry knew was real interest, not the pretend kind.

“How do you even know where to start?” she asked. “I think I’d just stare at all the pieces.”

“I can show you,” Henry said. “It’s not that hard once you know how. You just follow the instructions.”

She looked at him. “Would you trust me with the Space Shuttle?”

“I’d start you on something smaller,” Henry said, because that was just true.

She laughed.

Miss Rebecca laughed easily, which Henry liked. Some adults saved their laughs like they might run out, but she wasn’t like that. Hers came quickly, like they didn’t have far to travel, and it made the room feel bigger somehow.

Henry got out the Batmobile instructions. His dad had bought him the set just that morning, and it still smelled new, and Henry loved that smell. He then spread the many bags across the coffee table.

Miss Rebecca leaned in right away, studying the pages with the same serious focus she’d had during Mario Kart.

“Right,” she said. “Talk me through it.”

Henry decided this was exactly the right attitude, so he did. He told her the bags were numbered, and that it was really important to go one bag at a time.

She followed carefully. She asked questions that showed she was actually listening. She got it wrong a few times and didn’t seem embarrassed. She just tried again.

“There,” Henry said, when she clicked a small section together properly.

She held it up and looked at it like she was really pleased with it.

His dad was watching from the kitchen and his face was definitely doing something funny.

Henry noticed but he didn’t say anything.

— ✦ —

“Movie?” his dad suggested after a while. “I could make us some popcorn.”

He made it in a pot on the stove, the way he always did, with too much butter, which was actually the right amount of butter.

While he did that, Miss Rebecca looked at him real funny. Maybe she was really hungry for popcorn. 

His dad offered to make her tea, but Miss Rebecca pointed to the bottle of wine on the counter instead, and his dad nodded.

“Good call,” he said.

His dad told Henry to show her where the glasses were, so he did, and Miss Rebecca opened the bottle and poured two glasses.

“What will you be drinking, Henry?” she asked.

Henry looked at his dad. “Can I have soda?”

His dad smiled. “Small glass.”

Miss Rebecca smiled too and helped him get one.

“Would you help me carry these to the coffee table?” she asked.

Henry said yes immediately.

Soon enough, they all squeezed onto the couch, which was very small, and Henry sat in the middle, because that was where the popcorn went, and he had the popcorn. They were all a little squished together, but it felt like being in a fort.

Henry didn’t make it to the end of the movie before he fell asleep.

— ✦ —

He woke up in his dad’s bed, the duvet tucked carefully around him, morning light coming through the curtains. The apartment was quiet.

Morning light meant Miss Rebecca wasn’t there anymore. She must have gone home at some point, and he had missed saying goodbye.

Again.

He lay there with that for a minute. It was an annoying feeling. Small but specific, like when you had a little piece of pebble in your shoe.

Then he went to find his dad, and when his dad said, “Morning, bud,” Henry decided to let the feeling go.

They spent the whole day together, just the two of them, which was its own kind of good.

They walked along the river. His dad bought him a hot chocolate. They talked about the Titanic Lego set he really wanted and was definitely ready for, and whether whales dreamed, and what Henry wanted to do over the summer.

His dad was very present, like always. Fully there. Laughing easily. No phone in hand to distract. But there was something different too. Like he was a little brighter somehow, maybe even glowing a little. 

Henry thought he knew what it was. 

That was how people looked when they were really, really happy.

“You had a nice time last night,” Henry said. It wasn’t a question.

His dad glanced at him. “I did,” he said, sounding a little careful. “Didn’t you?”

“Obviously,” Henry said.

His dad smiled at the river.

“We should do it again sometime,” Henry said. 

His dad agreed immediately.

“I think Miss Rebecca had a nice time, too,” Henry added.

“Yeah, I think so, too, bud.”

— ✦ —

A few days later, on his last evening in Richmond for a while, Henry sat on the kitchen counter while his dad made dinner and said, “Can we FaceTime Rebecca? So I can say goodbye?”

His dad’s hands went still on the chopping board. Just for a second. “Sure, bud.”

Her face appeared on the screen looking pleased and maybe a little surprised.

“Henry,” she said warmly. “How’s it going?”

“Good, but I’m going home tomorrow, Miss Rebecca.”

“I know. Your dad said. Are you excited to fly back home?”

“Yes,” Henry said. “But I think I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“You will?”

“Of course. In fact, I’m sure your father and I will start a countdown the second you’re gone.”

His dad made a face. His ears went pink again, and he turned back to the stove like nothing had happened.

Henry thought a countdown sounded really good.

He decided he’d ask about it every time he and his dad talked on FaceTime.

He told her about the last few days with his dad, and she rested her chin on her hand and listened like she had all the time in the world.

His dad popped into frame now and then, and every time he stepped away again, he looked so happy Henry thought he might float away.

Eventually, his dad made the wrapping up face in the background, so Henry told Miss Rebecca he had to go.

“Wait,” she said, right away. “I want you to do something for me.”

Henry leaned closer to the screen. “What?”

“I want you to make a list.”

“Of what?”

“Lego sets,” she said. “Everything you’d love to have. And I need you to be very specific.”

Henry sat up straighter. “Why?”

“For next time,” she said, smiling. “Who knows, maybe I could get you one.”

Henry started thinking about it right away.

They were talking about the Titanic set within seconds, but his dad had already said that one was a big gift, because it was very expensive, and something you had to be more than ready for, because it was a serious build.

Also, his dad thought Henry didn’t know that he hadn’t been able to get it.

Henry did know.

He just hadn’t said anything. 

Until now. 

“Dad can’t find it anywhere, but I think he knows I’m ready.”

His dad chipped in. “He is, but—”

Instantly, Miss Rebecca said she’d see what she could do.

And then his dad reached over and took the phone.

“Alright, bud,” he said. “Why don’t you go wash up? Dinner’s ready.”

Henry went, but not very far.

From the hallway, he could still hear them talking.

“He doesn’t need every Lego set in existence, Miss Boss,” his dad was saying, sounding like he was trying to be reasonable.

“I’m not suggesting every set,” Miss Rebecca said, in a calm voice that meant she absolutely was. “But a few seems entirely appropriate.”

There was a pause.

“R’becca—” his dad started. “You’re very generous, but Lego sets are kinda expensive, and…”

“Just a few,” she said. “Besides, you know better than to tell me what to do with my money, don’t you?”

There was a pause.

“I’m very, very fucking rich,” she added. “You’ve seen me give a wad of cash to a random busker just because. A few Lego sets won’t even make the smallest dent.”

Ooh. Miss Rebecca said a really bad word.

“He was talented!”

“He was, but that’s besides the point, Ted.”

His dad shrugged and then chuckled. “Alright… a few,” he said, like he knew he’d lost. Henry was pretty sure she must have given him a look even though he couldn’t see it. “But you can’t get him the Titanic one. I promised him I’d get it for him eventually.”

“Fine,” she said. “But you will accept my help in finding it, Coach.”

“Yeah, okay, you got it, Boss.”

Henry smiled to himself and finished washing his hands.

When he made his way back, his dad was saying, “Hey… Thank you. For tonight. For being so great with him.”

Henry lurked and listened.

“Of course,” Miss Rebecca said, like it wasn’t even a question. “I meant it, you know. You two really are my favorite Lassos.”

“Well shoot, that’s real kind of you. And real lucky for us you don’t have a bigger sample size.”

“You’d still be my favorites either way, Ted.”

Henry saw his dad make a face like something inside him had just melted a little.

They both said goodbye, but didn’t hang up straight away, so Henry went into the kitchen.

His dad’s ears went pink as he rushed out another goodbye and shoved his phone into his pocket like that would fix it.

— ✦ —

— ✦ —

The next time Henry landed in London, his dad was waiting at the arrivals gate just like he said he would, and there was something different about him.

There was a bounce in his step that hadn’t been there before. He was whistling, too. Henry couldn’t hear the song from that far away, but he could see the way his dad moved, like life was so easy.

He’d noticed it on FaceTime first, over the past few weeks. His dad seemed lighter. And something else, too. His dad’s face looked more settled, like a picture that had been hanging a little crooked and had finally been straightened.

Henry had noticed. He just hadn’t said anything.

Now it was right there, in front of him.

His dad spotted him and the whistling stopped.

The grin started.

“There he is!” his dad said a little loudly. 

His dad dropped to one knee right there in the arrivals hall, arms open, not caring at all about the people moving around him.

Henry ran the last twenty feet, because sometimes you just did.

His dad hugged him the way he always did, like he was trying to say how glad he was without actually saying it, just the usual hey, bud and I missed you and let me look at you and you got taller, did you get taller?

Henry had not gotten taller. He was pretty sure of that.

But he let it go and held his dad’s hand until they reached the car that would take them to Richmond.

— ✦ —

Miss Rebecca was part of most of the visit, which Henry had quietly hoped for and not said out loud.

The first day he got to Richmond, they never did very much. And today was no different. He was tired and jet-lagged, and his dad kept telling him to take it easy, which Henry did, mostly.

But the next day was going to be really good.

So good, actually, that even though he was exhausted, he had a hard time falling asleep.

They were going to the Beatles museum, and Miss Rebecca was going to be picking them up really early, with her car and driver, to go all the way to Liverpool.

Henry lay in bed, thinking about it, and eventually started counting sheep.

And then, somehow, it was morning.

Miss Rebecca was there, holding coffee for his dad and a hot chocolate for him. She took a sip of her drink, and his dad pulled a funny face, like he could taste it just by looking at it and didn’t like it.

After he finished his hot chocolate, his eyes went all droopy, so Henry slept for most of the drive. Miss Rebecca had said it was a long drive.

At one point, he woke up and saw his dad’s head on Miss Rebecca’s shoulder, and he was snoring just a little.

Miss Rebecca smiled at him.

“You can go back to sleep,” she whispered.

Henry nodded and he went back to sleep.

— ✦ —

At the museum, his dad and Miss Rebecca walked really close to each other without quite touching, which Henry noticed.

Sometimes they’d lean in at the same time to read something, and then realize it, and then both straighten up a little too quickly. His dad even did the thing where his ears went pink and Miss Rebecca smiled like she knew exactly why that was happening.

At one point, his dad tried to say something about one of the displays and got halfway through it before stopping and starting over, which Henry also noticed.

Miss Rebecca told him it was “very interesting,” in a voice that meant she was being nice but also maybe a little bit amused.

His dad smiled like that was the best thing anyone had ever said to him.

Henry decided not to comment on any of this.

They moved through the rooms together, and Miss Rebecca looked at everything properly. She read the plaques all the way through instead of skimming, and when Henry found a display about the early years, she stood next to him and they read it together without talking.

It was a comfortable kind of quiet though.

And a bit after that, they argued, very politely, about their favorite Beatle.

“Paul,” his dad said, immediately.

“Of course you’d say Paul,” Miss Rebecca replied, like she’d been expecting that.

“Hey now, the man’s got range,” his dad said.

“So you’re telling me this has nothing to do with the fact that you had the same hairdo when you were a teenager?”

“Well, Boss, I got a lotta questions, ‘cause I don’t know how you got your sneaky little mitts on a picture of me at that age, but no. Paul’s my guy, hair or no hair.”

“I have my ways.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that one bit, but see… That is exactly the kind of answer that makes a fella nervous,” he said. “And I ain’t sayin’ we need to circle back to that whole ‘evil Brit’ thing we talked about the other day, but y’all do make some real top-tier mighty convincing villains on television.”

Miss Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well… perhaps that’s because you Americans prefer to do your villainy in real life.”

Henry knew right away that was a sick burn and called it. “Oh snap!”

His dad shook his head and admitted defeat. “Shoot. Yeah. I walked right into that one.”

Miss Rebecca rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. His dad was smiling even wider. 

“Right. Now back to the point.” Miss Rebecca paused. “George,” Miss Rebecca said calmly.

“No fair,” his dad said. “Your dad knew him. Of course you’re gonna pick the fella you knew.” 

Miss Rebecca didn’t answer that, instead she just started singing under her breath, “Give me love, give me love… give me peace on earth…”

Henry thought about it while his dad just watched Miss Rebecca sing.

“Ringo,” he finally decided.

They both looked at him.

“Interesting choice,” Miss Rebecca said.

“He’s the coolest… And he seems nice,” Henry explained. 

“That’s a strong argument,” his dad agreed.

Favorite Beatle discussion squared away, they finished their visit, and once in the gift shop, Miss Rebecca asked about the Lego list.

Henry had it in his pocket. He spent a lot of time working on it on the flight over, crossing things out and adding notes where needed, and then finally re-writing it on a fresh sheet of paper with the best handwriting his eight year old self could manage. 

Miss Rebecca took it seriously.

She asked questions. Real ones. She wanted to know why the Medieval Blacksmith ranked above the Flower Bouquet, and Henry explained, and she nodded slowly, like she was actually thinking about it.

Like it mattered.

His dad stood close, watching them, smiling fondly. It seemed like his face just did that whenever Miss Rebecca was around. 

Henry noticed that too.

— ✦ —

By the time they got back, Henry felt completely rested.

He had slept for most of the drive again, though he woke up every now and then and saw his dad and Miss Rebecca talking quietly, smiling at each other like they were sharing little secrets just between them.

He noticed that.

He didn’t interrupt.

At one point, Miss Rebecca leaned forward and said something to the driver.

“We’re making a quick stop in London before going back to Richmond,” she said, glancing back at Henry.

They pulled up outside a Lego store.

Not just a Lego store.

The Lego store.

It was enormous. Bright and full of color and people and shelves that seemed to go on forever. There were giant builds everywhere, things taller than Henry, things that moved, things he didn’t even know existed.

Henry stood there for a second, just taking it in.

“Okay,” his dad said with a low whistle beside him, just as impressed. “Wowza. That’s… that’s a lot of Lego.”

Henry walked in slowly, like if he moved too fast it might disappear.

It did not disappear.

It got better.

Miss Rebecca stayed right next to him, letting him look at everything, not rushing him even a little. She asked questions about the sets, the same way she had with the list, like it all mattered.

Which it did.

At some point, his dad picked up a box, one of the Lego sets that was on his list.

“This one feels like a strong contender,” he said.

Miss Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Does it.”

“Well, I was thinking—”

“I’m buying him this set,” she said, very calmly.

His dad blinked. “Now hold your horses, Miss Boss—”

“You had your turn,” she said.

“I did not have my turn—”

“You buy him things all the time.”

“That’s because I’m his dad,” he said, like that explained everything. 

Miss Rebecca tilted her head and batted her eyelashes at his dad. Henry didn’t know what that meant, adults were so mysterious sometimes, but then she spoke. “And I am trying to spoil your boy a little. Are you really going to get in the way of that, Coach?”

There was a pause.

Henry looked between them.

His dad looked a little stunned. 

Then he looked down at the box in his hands. Then at Henry. Then at Miss Rebecca.

“Fine.” He let Miss Rebecca take the box from his hands. “Tell you what, we’ll both get him something. You mind lettin’ me take another look at that list?”

Miss Rebecca considered it for a moment, then smiled and retrieved the list from her purse. “Very well.” She turned to Henry with what looked like a very conspiratorial smile on her lips. “We’ll both get him something.”

Henry thought this was an excellent outcome.

— ✦ —

His dad bought him two new sets that afternoon, which was generous even by Richmond visit standards, and Miss Rebecca bought the big one they’d been gently bickering over in the store.

Back at the apartment, they spread everything across the kitchen table, covering it in Lego bags, and got started right away.

Miss Rebecca made tea, then came back and helped, adding pieces here and there, always asking first, which Henry thought was very important and he appreciated it a lot.

After a while, they got dinner from a place that wrapped everything in little boxes, which Henry liked.

They sat on the floor around the coffee table with the food, opening containers and passing them back and forth, and his dad and Miss Rebecca started doing that thing where they talked at the same time, then stopped, then told the other to go ahead.

“No, you go,” his dad said.

“No, please,” Miss Rebecca replied.

“Well now I forgot what I was gonna say,” his dad said, which made her laugh.

“You did not,” she said.

“I’m tellin’ you,” he insisted. “You got yourself a real talent here, Boss. You can make a fella forget his own words. They fell right out of my noggin.”

“You were about to make a point about chips.”

“Fries,” his dad corrected.

“Chips,” she said, very calmly.

Henry listened to all of it while he ate, making sure to grab the extra spring roll before anyone else could argue about it.

At some point, he had to butt in.

“Dad, you make me say ‘biscuits’ instead of cookies when I’m here, so you gotta say ‘chips.’ It’s only fair.”

Miss Rebecca shot his dad a look and she even did that wiggly thing with her eyebrows that adults sometimes do.

His dad went red and clutched his chest. “My own kid,” he said. “Betrayin’ me like this.”

They laughed. And they soon went back to interrupting each other, but in a way that worked, like they knew exactly when to jump in and when not to.

Like they had the timing figured out.

Henry thought that was interesting.

Maybe adult weren’t so mysterious after all. Maybe that was just what they did when they liked each other. 

But that would never be him, because that was also just gross.

He sat there with his food, listening to his dad and Miss Rebecca going back and forth, and felt something nice settle in his tummy.

It was the first time he felt like Richmond could be home, too. 

— ✦ —

As the evening went on, Henry picked a movie and made himself a spot on the floor because he’d decided the couch was too small to sit between his dad and Miss Rebecca.

He fell asleep during the movie.

He hadn’t meant to. He had actually been interested.

He woke up once, just for a second.

The movie was still on. Or maybe it was a different one.

He turned his head slightly toward the couch.

His dad and Miss Rebecca were still there, sitting close together, talking quietly in the way people did when they didn’t want to wake someone up.

Henry watched them through his eyelashes, because sometimes you could see things better when people thought you were asleep.

Their hands were resting between them on the cushion.

Their pinkies were hooked together.

Henry looked at their hands for a moment.

Then he closed his eyes again.

He had to, before they noticed he was awake.

He could ask his friends at school when he got back, what it meant when grown-ups held pinkies.

Or maybe he’d just ask his dad.

He fell asleep again before he made up his mind.

— ✦ —

It all went too fast, the way visits always did.

Henry had stopped being surprised by that. Now he just let himself be a little sad about it instead, because that was allowed.

In the airport, his dad held both their hands. Henry’s on one side, Miss Rebecca’s on the other.

His dad didn’t even seem to notice he was holding her hand.

Or maybe he did, and just didn’t say anything.

Or maybe he had done it before, so it felt familiar enough?

They walked through the terminal like that, and Henry thought about how airports were strange places. They were always either the start of something or the end of it.

Miss Rebecca crouched down when they reached his gate, all the way to his level, which still seemed like a lot of work, considering how tall she was.

“Safe travels,” she said.

“Thank you, Miss Rebecca,” Henry said, and hugged her.

He looked at his dad over her shoulder.

His dad was watching them with that expression again. The one he didn’t seem to know he was making. 

His eyes looked a little bright. It could have been the airport lights or maybe he was about to cry. It was 50/50. 

“I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Henry.”

Henry gave Miss Rebecca an extra squeeze before he let go.

She deserved it.

Then his dad crouched, and Henry hugged him. His dad held on a beat longer than usual and made that face he always made when he was leaving, the one with the trembling lip, like he was very close to crying.

“Dad,” Henry said into his shoulder.

“I’m good,” his dad said immediately. “I’m totally good.”

He was not totally good.

Henry hugged him tighter anyway, because that was the right thing to do.

His dad laughed a little, squeezed him once more, then let go and looked at him very seriously.

Henry knew that look.

It meant time. It meant the boarding agent was right behind him.

“You’re gonna have a great flight, bud.”

“I know,” Henry said.

“And you’ll call me when you land.”

“I know.”

“And you’ll—”

“Dad.”

His dad exhaled. “Yeah. Okay.” He smoothed Henry’s collar, even though it didn’t need smoothing. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know that,” Henry said. “I love you too.”

He took the boarding agent’s hand and walked toward the gate with her.

At the entrance, he turned around.

He always turned around.

His dad and Miss Rebecca were standing together at the barrier. His dad was waving with his whole arm, one that said I’m gonna miss you and I’ll be here when you get back.

Miss Rebecca waved too, smaller, just her hand, but smiling.

And right then, Henry noticed they were holding hands again.

Whole hands, fingers folded together.

Henry waved back, and the boarding agent led him the last few steps toward the plane.

He thought about those first FaceTime calls after his dad had moved, when Richmond had probably felt unfamiliar and his dad had been cheerful in that effortful way, the kind that meant he was trying very hard to look happy.

Henry had worried then.

Quietly.

But he didn’t worry anymore.

Because his dad looked cheerful without effort. 

Because his dad had Miss Rebecca.

And Miss Rebecca had his dad.

— ✦ —

— ✦ —

One time, when Henry was visiting, they ended up staying at Miss Rebecca’s place.

She had called to check in, asked how they were.

Henry had told her right away that the apartment smelled bad.

She didn’t even hesitate.

“Come stay with me,” she said.

There really was a strange smell in his dad’s apartment that his dad kept calling “probably nothing,” which Henry knew always meant it was definitely something.

It turned out to be Mrs. Shipley, “cleansing” her apartment with sage and other stuff that smelled terrible.

Henry learned this while they were packing a couple of bags, well, he was done, but his dad wasn’t, and he was talking to Miss Rebecca, so of course Henry was listening.

“Gonna take a while to clear out,” his dad said.

So they went to stay with Miss Rebecca instead.

Henry liked her place. It was big, and quiet, and he was even getting his own bed to sleep in!

He didn’t feel good, though.

At first, it was just a little bit, like tired in a way that wasn’t normal tired, like his arms and legs were heavier than usual.

Then it got worse.

So he called for his dad, and his dad appeared in the room he was staying in within seconds.

His dad was by his side right away. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

“I don’t feel too good.”

His dad’s face changed. Not in a scary way, he just looked a little more focused, and Miss Rebecca was there too, hanging behind him and then crossing the room to touch his forehead.

“Well,” she said gently, “definitely warm.”

Miss Rebecca went to get a thermometer, and when she got back, Henry opened his mouth so they could check his temperature.

“Alright,” his dad said softly. “You got a bit of a fever, Hen.”

Miss Rebecca was already moving, getting him blankets, a glass of water, and something cool for his forehead.

“Soup,” she said. “I’ll make us some soup.”

His dad shot her a funny look.

Miss Rebecca sighed. “Fine. I’ll order us all some soup.”

Henry didn’t know a lot of things, but he did know Miss Rebecca didn’t like cooking very much. She had said so herself. Even said something about burning everything once.

Miss Rebecca picked up her phone and stepped out of the room.

“She’ll get you the best soup there is,” his dad said.

His dad stayed close the whole time. When his temperature got a little too high for his taste, he suggested a lukewarm bath, and promised the soup would be there when he got out.

He hadn’t been lying. When Henry got out of the bath and changed into his pajamas, shivering and teeth clacking, Miss Rebecca called out that the soup had come.

Henry went down the stairs with his dad, joining Miss Rebecca in the kitchen. The soup smelled really good, even though Henry didn’t feel like eating much.

“You don’t have to finish it,” she said after a while. “Just a few spoonfuls.”

He managed a few.

“That’s my guy,” his dad said quietly.

After a while, his dad stood up. “I’m gonna run out and grab some meds for him, okay? Be right back.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Miss Rebecca said.

“I know you will,” his dad replied.

Henry watched him leave, then looked back at her.

When he was sick, he usually wanted his mom or his dad.

But Henry was finding out that Miss Rebecca was okay too.

When he came out of the bath, he’d noticed she’d changed into soft sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked a lot like one of his dad’s, and that helped somehow. It made him feel calm.

“Do you want to watch something while we wait for your dad?” she asked.

Henry shook his head.

“Alright,” she said. “We can just sit on the couch. How does that sound?”

Henry nodded because Miss Rebecca’s couch was the comfiest couch.

She sat beside him and put an arm around him, not too tight, just enough.

Henry leaned into her a little.

She always smelled nice, and she was always okay with him cuddling into her side.

He didn’t say anything, and after a minute, she started humming.

It took Henry a second to recognize it.

“Blackbird,” he said.

She smiled a little. “Good ear.”

“Will you sing it, Miss Rebecca, please?”

She nodded and sang it quietly, not like a performance, but something just for him.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Her voice was so beautiful and soft, and the words felt familiar in a way that made everything a little less uncomfortable.

Henry listened.

His eyes started to close.

“That’s a good one,” he murmured.

“It is,” she said.

By the time his dad came back, Henry was half-asleep again, the song still somewhere in his head.

“Our little chicken is going to be alright,” she said quietly.

His dad made a little sound.

Henry knew it was a good sound.

He also had to admit he really liked being called their little chicken.

Henry didn’t open his eyes, but he felt it, felt his dad sitting down, the couch dipping next to him, the warmth on both sides of him.

He still needed to take some medication. He was still sick. 

But he wasn’t worried about it. He was going to be alright. 

— ✦ —

The next morning, Henry woke up feeling a little better.

Not completely better, but better enough.

He followed the sounds right into the kitchen and found his dad there, already up, making biscuits.

Not just any biscuits.

Those biscuits. The ones he made for Miss Rebecca. Henry knew exactly what it looked like when his dad made those biscuits. He’d watched his dad make them more times than he could count.

One day, he was sure he would be able to make them from memory, just from seeing his dad make them so many times.

Henry climbed up onto one of the stools.

“Can you make extra?” he asked. “So I can have some too, and Miss Rebecca doesn’t have to share hers. She shouldn’t have to share hers.”

His dad glanced over, smiling. “Well hey there, look who’s up and about. That a sign you’re feelin’ better, bud?”

Henry nodded. “A little.”

“Well shoot, ain’t that good news,” his dad said. “And yeah, I can make extra. Anything for you, bud.”

Henry watched him for a moment, and when he saw his dad reach for his cup of coffee, he decided it was time to ask. “What does it mean when a woman wears a man’s t-shirt?”

His dad choked on his sip of coffee.

Actually choked.

“Buddy—” he started, coughing a little. “That’s… that’s a real good question.”

Henry waited.

His dad scratched the back of his neck. “Sometimes it just means… comfort, you know? Like… like the shirt’s soft, or… or familiar, or—”

Henry nodded slowly.

That did not feel like the whole answer.

He let it go.

For now.

Miss Rebecca walked into the kitchen just then, not noticing Henry at first.

She went straight to his dad, smiling wide, and leaned in for a hug. His dad wrapped his arms around her like he’d done it before, like it was something he was used to, and he made a small, happy sound. Almost like a hum.

Henry knew right away this wasn’t a first-time thing.

But Henry also knew people hugged.

That was normal.

So he didn’t say anything.

Miss Rebecca saw him a second later and pulled back, just a little too quickly. She even cleared her throat.

His dad looked… slightly disappointed? But only for a second.

“Mornin’, ba– Boss,” his dad said, clearing his throat. “I was thinkin’ I could make us some scrambled eggs. Maybe bacon. Y’know, the works.”

Miss Rebecca smiled at him. “Careful, Ted, or I’ll never let you leave.”

His dad’s ears went pink and his face did a thing, his mouth was also hanging open a bit.

“Well, you know me,” he said with a smile that made his mustache rise up. “Aim to please.”

Henry watched all of this and decided adults really were weird about many things.

Then he said, “Can I have a hug too?”

Miss Rebecca turned to him immediately. “Of course you can, my little chicken.”

She came over and hugged him properly.

Henry leaned into it. Leaned into the whole of it. He found that he liked being Miss Rebecca’s little chicken, just as much as he liked being in her house in the morning. 

And if his dad got hugs just for being around, Henry was definitely going to get hugs too.

— ✦ —

— ✦ —

Over the next few visits, they settled into a rhythm of some kind, which Henry liked.

Miss Rebecca was with them most of the time, which Henry was happy about.

Not all the time, because some afternoons were just him and his dad, walking along the river or watching football or doing nothing in particular on the couch, and Henry liked that too, the way you liked both things when you got to have both.

But having Rebecca there was its own kind of good.

She was better than his dad at Mario Kart.

She almost always brought Lego, and not always big sets, sometimes just a small one she’d seen and thought he’d like, but it was never really about how big the set was.

It was that she sat down with him and his dad at the kitchen table and built it with them.

The instructions spread out. His dad making tea for her. Rebecca going over the pages carefully, more than once. All three of them finding the same piece at the same time, and sometimes arguing, nicely, about who had seen it first.

Sometimes they even did huge puzzles in their pajamas together, and Miss Rebecca would call him her little chicken when they all cuddled on the couch when they got a little sleepy, and Henry thought these were some of the best days he’d ever had.

And he’d had some very good ones.

But what Henry knew, for sure, and beyond a doubt…

They were all happy when they were together.

— ✦ —

— ✦ —

Sometimes they went to the pub where Mae worked. He’d been told pretty early on to call her Mae or there would be problems, so he had stopped saying ma’am because she was a little scary. In a good way. Like when your grandma tells you to finish your plate if you want dessert.

They had really good chips at the pub.

But Henry had noticed something else, too.

When Miss Rebecca came with them, he got more chips.

A lot more chips.

He had, in his opinion, run the numbers enough to be sure.

Mae would bring a basket, then glance at Miss Rebecca and say, “and a little extra for the table,” in a way that suggested the extra was not really for the table.

Miss Rebecca would say thank you in that warm voice she used when she was really grateful.

“Mae likes you,” Henry said, between bites, because that seemed obvious. “She always gives us extra chips when you come with me and Dad.”

“Either she likes me,” Miss Rebecca said, “or she knows I like chips a little too much for my own good.”

His dad was looking at her again.

Henry ate another chip.

He was starting to notice a pattern.

People gave you things when they liked you.

Mae gave Miss Rebecca extra chips.

His dad gave Miss Rebecca biscuits.

Miss Rebecca gave him Lego.

It all seemed connected somehow.

Henry didn’t say that part out loud.

He just ate another chip and kept thinking about it.

— ✦ —

It was Miss Rebecca, in fact, who taught him the “chip maneuver.” At least, that was what she called it.

They were at the pub one evening, his dad distracted by something on the television, when Miss Rebecca leaned over very quietly and said, “Watch this.”

Then she reached across, calm as anything, and took a chip straight from his dad’s plate.

His dad didn’t notice.

Henry stared at her.

She raised an eyebrow.

Your turn.

Henry had never, in his life, taken a chip from his dad’s plate. It had simply never occurred to him as something he could do.

He looked at the plate.

He looked at Miss Rebecca.

He reached over and took one as quickly as he could.

His dad still didn’t notice.

Henry sat back and ate the chip he’d just stolen. 

Miss Rebecca picked up her drink, looking very pleased with herself. “That’s the chip maneuver,” she explained. “I do it whenever your dad isn’t paying attention. Bit of a sport, really.” She took another sip. “The goal is to see how many I can get before Mae clears the plates from the table. If I manage to get all of them—”

Henry frowned, mostly because he was a little confused. “Does he not notice?” 

Miss Rebecca smiled at his dad, who was still focused on the television. “Oh, I think he does. He just pretends not to. And I think he likes me enough to let me think I’m getting away with it.”

Henry considered this, but he thought she was probably right.

She leaned in slightly.

“Now then,” she said. “Would you like to be my accomplice? But fair warning, my little chicken, once you’re in, you’re in, there’s no going back. It becomes our thing.”

Henry thought about it and decided he definitely wanted his own thing with Miss Rebecca, so he nodded as enthusiastically as he could. 

— ✦ —

He was still thinking about the chip maneuver, fresh from his bath and padding into the kitchen in his fluffiest socks to see if there were any juice boxes left.

He stopped short when his eyes landed on his dad and Miss Rebecca.

They were by the counter.

They were kissing.

On the mouth.

Henry made a sound of disgust.

It came out louder than he meant it to.

They jumped apart.

His dad turned around, and his face was doing something Henry had never quite seen before, a whole bunch of expressions all at once, but caught was definitely one of them. Just like the neighbor’s dog when it got busted pooping in his mom’s flowers.

“Bud! Oh, hey. I thought you were in the bath.”

“I’m done,” Henry said.

He was looking at the ceiling now. That felt like a good place to look, away from his dad’s very red face.

“Right. Yeah. We were just –” His dad stopped. Started again. “Rebecca and I were just… Uhm…”

“I know what you were doing,” Henry said.

“Right.” A pause. “Yeah.”

Henry looked back down.

His dad’s face had gone really red and he looked real nervous, scratching his head, wobbling back and forth on his feet. But Miss Rebecca put her hand on his back, and he relaxed a little.

“My friend Josh says adults kiss when they like each other a lot. His dad kissed his mom and his babysitter, and that was not okay. You’re only supposed to kiss one person.”

His dad was standing very straight in the way that meant he was trying to seem calm, and Miss Rebecca had a hand over her mouth, her eyes doing something that looked a lot like she was trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, I’m a one-person-kinda kisser, bud.”

“As am I, I assure you, Henry.”

Miss Rebecca and his dad shared a look, then both turned back to him.

Henry crossed his arms. “That’s still pretty yucky.”

“Maybe one day you—”

“Yuck, Dad. No. I’m never, ever kissing anyone.”

His dad muttered something to Miss Rebecca, and Henry only caught three words: revisit, ten years.

Then he saw Henry wasn’t laughing and he quickly changed his tone. “Look… I’m sorry, bud. That was… we should’ve…”

“Dad.”

“Yeah?” His dad opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. He didn’t know what to say, that much was obvious.

“I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not stupid, you’re the smartest—”

“I just don’t want to see you kiss all the time,” Henry said. This felt like the important part. “It’s yucky.”

His dad looked at him for a moment, properly serious now.

“Are you okay with it, though?” he asked. “Me and Rebecca?”

He thought about the notebook and the drawings. And the biscuits. And Lego sets and Mario Kart.

He thought about the Beatles and long car rides in a really nice car.

He even thought about pinkies on the couch, and how they held hands at the airport.

Then he thought about how he got sick and was taken care of, and how he became their little chicken.

He thought about Miss Rebecca singing.

Then about Miss Rebecca and his dad hugging in her kitchen, while Miss Rebecca was wearing his dad’s shirt.

And then, of course, he thought about extra chips.

It all added up to something.

Henry even thought about the way his dad whistled now when he was just walking around or cooking or showering.

He didn’t know everything. He didn’t even have the exact words for all of it.

But he knew that his dad was happy. 

And if that meant being okay with him and Miss Rebecca kissing… that was fine. 

Yucky, but fine.

“Yes,” he said. “Obviously.”

His dad exhaled.

“But no kissing where I can see,” Henry added, because it needed to be clear.

“Deal,” his dad said.

“A gentleman’s agreement,” Miss Rebecca said, still half-hiding a smile.

Henry pointed at her. “You have to promise too.”

“I promise,” she said, very solemnly. “You have my word.”

Henry got his juice box from the fridge and went to the couch.

Behind him, he heard his dad say something quietly, and then he heard Miss Rebecca laugh.

Henry decided not to think about what they were doing in the kitchen.

Some things, he had decided, were better left alone.

— ✦ —

Right before bed, when Henry was already in his pajamas debating what to ask his dad to read him tonight, Miss Rebecca came into the room holding something.

“I have something for you,” she said. “I forgot to give it to you earlier.”

Henry looked up.

It was a book.

He took it from her carefully and looked at the cover.

“The whale one,” he said. “The one that fought the ship.”

“The very same,” she said. 

Henry smiled. Henry opened it, flipping through a few pages, then closed it again.

“Thank you, Miss Rebecca.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He thought about something for a second. He really wanted to start the book with Miss Rebecca. Not just with his dad.

“Do you want to stay for a sleepover?” he asked. “So we can start reading it together?”

Miss Rebecca blinked.

His dad, who was standing in the doorway, made a small noise.

“Well,” she said, carefully, “we can’t all sleep in the same bed. But I can stay and read with you for a little while.”

“Why can’t we sleep in the same bed?” Henry asked.

Miss Rebecca and his dad looked at each other.

His dad scratched the back of his neck. “I mean… it might be a little cramped, but I wouldn’t mind,” he said.

Miss Rebecca looked at him.

Then at Henry.

“Please,” Henry added, just in case.

She smiled.

“How could I possibly resist you, my little chicken?”

— ✦ —

It was cramped.

He was in the middle, which was surely the safest place on Earth, but it also meant there was almost no space and at some point during the night he got way too warm and he had to kick the blankets off. 

But it was also the best sleepover.

His dad was on one side.

Miss Rebecca was on the other, and she didn’t even move away when Henry shifted closer in his sleep.

At one point, Henry heard them whispering back and forth, and he was fairly certain his dad called her “Mother Hen” in that amused voice he used when he thought he was being funny, like it was a pun he was very pleased with. Then again, his dad was always pleased with his own puns, and even though Henry had to pretend he was asleep, he almost giggled.

— ✦ —

— ✦ —

At one point, Miss Rebecca came all the way to Kansas.

Henry had not been expecting this.

Kansas was his regular life. That was where his mom, his school, his friends, and the specific smell of his own bedroom were. Richmond was where Miss Rebecca existed. 

The two things had always stayed in separate compartments.

Then his dad called and said Miss Rebecca was coming with him for two weeks.

Just like that, the compartments stopped being separate.

Henry thought about it.

He decided he didn’t mind.

— ✦ —

His dad got tickets to a Chiefs game at Arrowhead, which Henry had been looking forward to for weeks, and Miss Rebecca came with them.

At first, she just watched.

Then, somewhere in the second quarter, she said something about the defensive line that made his dad turn and stare at her like she’d just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

“What?” she said.

“You know football,” his dad said.

“I know some football,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“You never—” His dad stopped. Looked mildly betrayed. “You never said.”

“You never asked,” she said, and turned back to the field.

His dad looked like a fish out of water, just standing there, mouth opening and closing.

Henry found this extremely funny.

— ✦ —

After the game, they went to Jack Stack, which was the correct decision. The only decision.

Henry watched Rebecca pick up ribs with both hands without even hesitating or looking for a fork. She just picked them up and bit into them like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Within about two minutes, she had barbecue sauce on three fingers, both corners of her mouth, and somehow, it got to the tip of her nose.

Henry pointed it out.

She laughed and reached for a napkin, and missed completely.

Henry gestured at it and giggled. 

“Did I get it?”

“No.”

She tried again.

“Still no,” his dad said, very gently, and leaned over to get it for her.

Rebecca went a little pink in the face, and that was interesting, because usually it was his dad who went pink in the face.

Henry looked down at his ribs and decided he didn’t need to be careful either.

He got sauce on his chin almost immediately.

He smiled through it, the way Rebecca was smiling through it.

His dad looked at both of them, shook his head, and smiled. “So I’m guessin’ the move here is I go ahead and get a little barbecue sauce on my face now just to stay on theme, right?”

Henry thought that sounded right and apparently, so did Miss Rebecca, because they both started nodding at the same time. 

But before his dad could say or do anything, Miss Rebecca leaned over and pressed her barbecue-sauce-covered mouth right to his dad’s cheek, then pulled back, admiring the perfect lip print she’d left there. 

His dad didn’t even go pink. He went straight to bright red, and he smiled in that way he did when something made him really happy, like when the Chiefs won or there was a good special on the big jar of peanut butter at the store. 

— ✦ —

It happened when Henry was halfway through his second serving of mac and cheese.

He wasn’t paying attention. He was focused on the mac and cheese because it was excellent, and his dad leaned across him, actually across him, like Henry was not even there, and kissed Rebecca.

Henry made a sound.

The official one. The one that said it all. 

His dad sat back. 

Henry looked at him with meaning.

His dad had the grace to look a little bit sheepish. “Sorry, bud. Couldn’t help myself.”

Henry looked back down at his mac and cheese. He took a bite and he thought about it.

It had been quick.

And his dad had looked, just for a second, like someone who really couldn’t help it, like the rule, like their agreement, had simply slipped out of his brain for a moment.

Henry couldn’t, if he was being real honest, be entirely mad about that.

It was maybe even a little funny.

But he was not going to say that out loud.

He was still thinking about it when his dad leaned over and kissed his cheek loudly, smacking his lips right against his skin and getting barbecue sauce everywhere.

Then Rebecca kissed his other cheek, just as loud and just as messy, making a very serious mwah sound before pulling back with a big grin.

Henry sat between them with a lot of barbecue sauce on both his cheeks, his spoon of mac and cheese paused halfway to his mouth.

“Ew,” he said.

But it came out small.

And not very convincing.

His dad grinned.

Rebecca grinned.

Henry looked down at the table.

Maybe, he thought, not all kisses were the same.

Maybe some of them, like the quick ones, the ones that happened because someone couldn’t help it, or even the ones that landed on your cheek with a silly sound, maybe those ones were okay.

And with that thought, he took another bite of mac and cheese.

— ✦ —

— ✦ —

Eventually, Miss Rebecca was just… there.

Not for every FaceTime, not at first. But gradually, naturally, she’d appear at the edge of the screen, or his dad would say, “Hang on, Rebecca wants to say hi,” and then she’d say hi and somehow still be there twenty minutes later.

Henry didn’t mind.

He liked talking to her.

She always had a question ready. Always asked about something specific, something that showed she’d been paying attention. 

And she listened properly. All the way through.

And if he ever wanted his dad alone, like really alone, for the kind of talking that was just theirs, she always seemed to know before he said anything.

She’d make some excuse, something she had to go do, and leave.

And it would just be him and his dad again, the way it had always been.

She understood.

Henry thought that might be one of the best things about her. 

— ✦ —

One Tuesday, his FaceTime connected and it was just Miss Rebecca looking back at him.

“Hey, Hen. Your dad’s in the shower,” she said, a little apologetically.

“That’s okay,” Henry said. “I can talk to you while he showers.”

So they did.

He told her about the book he’d just finished at school, the one about the boy who finds a special door in his grandfather’s house, and she asked three good questions.

He told her about the thing that had happened at school with the fire drill and the frog, and that was a really long story. But she listened to all of it.

Then he asked her about something on the Tube map that had been bothering him for a while. She’d given him a poster of it after he asked the first time, and he’d put it up in his room so he could study it properly.

“Don’t ask your dad,” she said. “He’s been here nearly two years and still looks at that map like it’s personally offended him.”

“I know,” Henry said, rolling his eyes, which made Miss Rebecca laugh out loud.

Then she explained everything she could clearly, step by step.

Henry listened.

Then he filed it away.

Miss Rebecca took a sip from her mug. Henry knew it was tea, because she always drank tea.

That made him think of something.

“Do you think I would like tea?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she said. “But we’d have to keep it from your dad. I’m not sure he’d survive knowing you like it.”

Henry found that very funny, because his dad always made a face when he made tea for Miss Rebecca.

“But tell you what,” she added. “Next time we see each other, I’ll let you try some when your father isn’t looking.”

Henry beamed and nodded with enthusiasm.

Then he studied the screen for a moment, a little more closely than before.

He looked at Miss Rebecca, sitting in what he recognized as the living room of his dad’s apartment.

She looked comfortable there.

Like it was familiar.

Like she was there even when he wasn’t.

Which meant she was there a lot.

And with everything else, with all the other things he’d been noticing, all the pieces he’d been filing away this past year…

He thought about the thing he’d been wanting to ask for a while.

He had been waiting for the right moment.

This felt like it.

“Miss Rebecca,” he said.

“Mm?”

“Do you love my dad?”

She went very still, but she didn’t look alarmed. In fact, she looked very calm. 

Henry noticed.

“Because I think he loves you,” Henry continued carefully. 

Rebecca looked at him.

She had never, not once, lied to him.

He could see her deciding not to start now.

“Henry,” she said, after a moment, “will you please call me Rebecca?”

Henry thought about it.

It immediately felt strange, like when you’re trying a new food, or wearing new shoes for the first time.

“If you answer my question,” he said, “I’ll call you Rebecca.”

Something in her face softened and settled, all at once.

“Yes, Henry,” she said. “I love your dad. Very, very much.”

She said it looking just slightly past the camera.

And Henry understood.

His dad was standing somewhere behind the phone, and Rebecca was looking at him when she said it.

Like the answer was for both of them.

Henry smiled and nodded.

Some things you just needed to know for sure.

That was when Henry heard his dad cross the room.

He watched Rebecca’s face soften and light up, the way it always did when his dad was near. He knew what it looked like, because his dad’s face did the same thing when Rebbeca was near.

Then his dad appeared in the frame, hair still damp and all over the place, and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head before sitting beside her, grinning from ear to ear.

Then he picked up the phone and smiled right at him through the screen. “Hey, my little wingman. Sorry. How long you been on?”

Henry didn’t know what wingman meant, but it sounded good, so he didn’t ask.

“Long enough,” Henry said. “Me and Rebecca… We talked about important stuff.”

His dad looked at Rebecca.

Rebecca smiled.

His dad looked back at Henry with an expression that was trying very hard to be normal and not quite managing it.

They talked, all three of them, for a while after that.

Then Rebecca said she had a few things to see to and stood up. She kissed his dad’s cheek and gave a small wave to the screen.

“Bye, Hen. Take care.”

“Bye, Rebecca,” he said.

His dad watched her leave. 

When he heard the sound of the door closing, his dad turned back to the phone wearing that expression Henry didn’t have an official name for, but had seen plenty anyway. It looked like he couldn’t quite believe his own luck. 

“So,” his dad said.

“So,” Henry repeated.

— ✦ —

— ✦ —

His dad told him properly a few weeks later. 

He did the thing he always did when something was important. He FaceTimed him with his laptop instead of his phone. He sat up a little straighter, cleared his throat, made sure Henry was really all there and listening.

He said that he and Rebecca were together. Officially. Seriously.

And that seriously meant something. And what it meant was that he was going to move into Rebecca’s place, which was bigger, and that there would be a room there just for Henry.

And that it wouldn’t change anything, but…

His voice did the thing.

The careful and slightly higher thing it did when he was trying very hard not to cry.

Which meant he was definitely about to cry.

“Dad,” Henry said.

He knew his dad needed a minute.

He also knew how to give him one.

“Yeah?”

“You know I love Rebecca too.”

His dad looked stunned for a second, but his words didn’t stop the tears like Henry thought it might. His plan backfired. It just set them free.

Henry waited.

His dad tried to talk and choked a little on a sob, but after a minute or two, he was okay.

Then his dad laughed, sounding a little watery. “That’s– That’s really great, bud,” he said. “I know Rebecca loves you a whole lot.”

Henry found that he felt a little extra special, knowing Rebecca loved him too.

“Dad.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you took the job in Richmond.” Henry thought about how to say the next part, then decided to just say it. “You seem really happy.”

There was a pause. Henry could see his dad turning the words over in his head.

“Me too, kid,” his dad said quietly. “Me too.” Then, after a second, “But hey. You know that don’t mean I don’t miss you all the time, right?”

“I know,” Henry said. “I miss you too.”

“And you’re okay? With me and Rebecca, with all of it?”

“Dad, I already knew,” Henry said, with great patience. “You hug and you kiss all the time. Plus, my friends say that grown-ups who kiss eventually live together and get married.”

His dad went red. 

“We don’t… It’s not—”

“You kiss all the time,” Henry said again. “And she wears your t-shirts. Mom said that’s what people do when they’re really in love.”

His dad put a hand over his face. “Fair enough,” he said, muffled.

“I really like Rebecca,” Henry said. “She’s really nice, Dad. She’s one of my favorite people.”

His dad was quiet for a moment behind his hand.

When he lowered it, his eyes were bright. Brighter than they were a minute ago.

“Yeah,” he said. “She is, isn’t she.”

“So next time I come,” Henry said, “can we pick things out for my room?”

“Absolutely.” His dad broke into a real smile then, the kind he got when he was so excited to promise him the world. “First thing we do. You and me and Rebecca, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Henry said.

He thought about that for a moment.

His own room. At Rebecca’s house.

Waking up there in the mornings.

Mario Kart and Lego on the kitchen table. Maybe even on the kitchen counter. Extra chips. Rebecca singing him to sleep.

And not having to share his dad’s bed anymore.

Then Henry thought about something else.

Something he’d been turning over ever since Sally in his class had told him about being a flower girl at her dad’s wedding, which had sounded like a very good thing to be.

“Dad,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“When you get married.” He said it like it was just something that was going to happen, a fact waiting its turn. “I want to be a flower boy. Not a ring bearer. That’s too much responsibility for a nine-year-old boy. Maybe if I was 10, but that’s too far away. I don’t wanna wait that long.”

His dad stared at him.

“I’ve thought about it,” Henry added. “Being your flower boy.”

His dad opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then closed it again. His face was doing five things at once.

“You got it, bud. Flower boy,” he said, voice a little wobbly. He paused. Then he lowered his voice. “Hey, can I ask you something?” Henry recognized this voice as the secret voice.

He sat up a little straighter. “Yes.”

“Will you help me pick out a ring? For Rebecca?”

This was, without question, the best thing anyone had ever asked him.

“Yes, I’ll help you,” he said, very seriously. “But Dad, it has to be really expensive.”

His dad grinned and Henry grinned back.

“You know, bud,” his dad said in that thoughtful voice, “I think Rebecca would marry me with one of those Ring Pops you like.”

Henry considered this.

It was, unfortunately, probably true.

Rebecca was not the kind of person who needed something expensive to think it was good.

But still.

“She would,” Henry said. “But we should get her a really nice one, Dad. Like, actually nice. Expensive.”

“Expensive,” his dad repeated.

“She runs a football club,” Henry said. “She has a very big house. We need to get her something good.”

His dad looked like he was trying not to smile.

“I hear you.”

“I’m serious,” Henry said. “We can’t get her a cheap one.”

“We’re not gonna get a cheap one, bud.”

“Good.” Henry nodded.

“Good,” his dad repeated.

Henry knew Rebecca had stepped out, so he had to ask. “How much time do we have before she gets back?”

His dad glanced off-screen, like he was doing some quick math. “Oh, I’d say… maybe twenty minutes?”

Henry considered that.

“We’re gonna need more time than that, Dad.”

His dad nodded, like that was a completely fair assessment. “Oh, I know. This here’s a long-haul operation.”

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “But we can at least get ourselves started.”

— ✦ —

— ✦ —

By the time Henry turned ten, he knew even more things.

Some of them were new.

Like how many Lego pieces you could step on before it stopped hurting (the answer was not many). Or that the Titanic Lego set was the best present he had ever gotten.

He had thought he was completely ready for it.

He wasn’t.

It had taken a long time. There were parts that didn’t make sense right away, and pieces that refused to go where they were supposed to, no matter how sure he was.

But he had learned something really important.

Asking for help didn’t mean you weren’t ready.

It meant you wanted to get it right.

And building it with his dad and Rebecca had turned out to be better than doing it on his own anyway.

And he learned that being ten felt different from being eight in a way he couldn’t quite explain but could definitely feel.

Some things, though, had stayed the same.

His dad still made the best pancakes in the world. Still said hey, bud like it was the most important greeting in the world. Still listened properly.

Still was the best dad.

And Miss Rebecca…

Well.

Miss Rebecca was just Rebecca now. 

And sometimes, she was even Mum.

— ✦ —

He thought a lot about the things that had happened between eight and ten.

About notebooks and drawings. About Lego lists and dino nuggets. About Mario Kart. About the Beatles. About borrowed t-shirts. About pinkies and hugs and everything else too. 

He even thought about stolen chips, and how his dad still pretended not to notice.

He thought about the way his dad had looked at Rebecca then, when he was eight.

And the way he still looked at her now that he was ten…

— ✦ —

Henry Lasso was ten years old.

And sure, he knew a lot of things.

But he couldn’t wait to learn more.