He climbed up onto the bench. “Yeah. Mama gives me dry cereal all the time.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Mama calls it snack cereal.”
“Snack cereal?” He nodded like it made perfect sense.
“Aight then,” I said, handing him the bowl. “Snack cereal it is,” I said, and he started crunching like he hadn’t eaten in days. I leaned back against the table, watching him. How was I going to build a relationship with a child that had already begun life without me? I looked over at Lyrius. She was still curled up in a ball on the couch, knocked out. How could she have kept this from me for so long? I understood that shit was complicated, but she could have at least told me I had a son.
“Mama is always tired,” he said. “She never wakes up before it’s light out.”
I looked back at him. “Yeah?”
“She works a lot. But we still do stuff. She just falls asleep sometimes.”
I glanced over at her again. Hearing him say it like that did something to me. She really had been carrying this shit by herself. And for a second, all I could think about was how tired she looked.
“Yeah, I can see that.”
He ate a few more bites of the cereal and then slid off the bench like he was done. He didn’t even finish it and took off toward the punching bags.
“Can you show me how to punch like you?” he asked, and I smiled as he ran in zig zags to the other side of the room. Where he’d gotten all this energy from at three in the morning, I had no clue.
“Of course,” I said, following behind him. By the time I made it to the other side of the room, Dakoda was standing in front of one of the punching bags, looking up at me. I raised my hands and put them in position.
“This is how you stand,” I said, and he copied me the best he could. Wrong as hell. I dropped my stance and leaned forward to adjust him. “Nah, spread your feet. Hands up.”
“Like this?” He fixed his hands and clenched his fists, looking serious as hell.
“Yeah, like that. Now punch it.” I stood behind the bag and held onto it as he tapped the bag with all of his little strength. It barely moved.
“I’m strong!”
“You aight,” I muttered, and he hit it again a little harder this time. I let the bag swing back and bumped him. He stumbled, caught himself, then looked at it like it had just disrespected him.
“It hit me back.”
“That’s boxing.”
“That’s cheating.” He leaned in closer, squinting at it. I couldn’t stop laughing, and neither could he. He grinned like he did something and then leaned into me like he knew what we both needed. I rested my hand on his back.
“You done punching?”
“Yeah, I don’t think I like boxing,” he replied. “Can we do shadows again?” I nodded, and we made our way back toward the couch. I sat down with him still half on me. The wind outside was louder than ever.
“You said we’re safe?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and relaxed into me like that was enough.
I leaned back a little, adjusting him in my arms as his body started going heavy. Sleep was creeping back in. He settled into me like it was easy, and I forced myself not to lean too much into it. I couldn’t afford to. Not until I had proof.
“KO?” He yawned.
“Yeah?”
“You gonna ask Mama how to find us?” I looked down at him, then over at her, then back at him, a smile creeping on my lips. “You know, so you can come see me?”