Good.
A project.
Men need projects. Boys too. Keeps the brain from chewing its own leg off.
We settle on the living room floor, which is now mostly court, cave, garage, and one blanket tunnel August insists is a witness hallway. Blue Rex is the judge. A smaller green dinosaur, newly acquired from God knows which woman’s supply bag, is the lawyer. My upside-down boot remains government property.
“This thing needs a door,” I tell him.
“It’s a courthouse.”
“Courthouses got doors.”
“This one has a mouth.”
I look at the blanket opening. “That’s disturbing.”
“Bad guys go in there.”
“What comes out?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If Blue Rex says guilty.”
I nod slowly. “Blue Rex is harsh but fair.”
August smiles.
We build a door out of cereal boxes and tape. I cut the tape because August gets it stuck to his fingers and then to Blue Rex and then to my arm hair. He laughs so hard at my reaction that he falls over sideways.
I pretend to be offended.
Mostly, I’m trying not to notice how good that laugh sounds in my house.
After a while, he goes quiet.
Not sleepy quiet.
Thinking quiet.
I brace before he even opens his mouth.
“Are you fake Mama’s boyfriend?”
There it is.
I stare at a cereal box like it contains legal counsel.
“That’s complicated.”
August looks at me.
Flat.
Unimpressed.