by Laney Smith
“We’re Catholic.”
Ryan nodded. “Gotcha! So, anyway Nate, you better go call your mom.”
The boy fidgeted, wringing his fingers and shyly ducking his head. Ryan could see the kid was dreading the call to his mother. He nervously glanced up at Ryan.
“Can you call her? She won’t be so mad if you call her. Maybe.”
The little boy looked so desperate to escape the fate of his punishment. Ryan felt bad for the kid, and while he could relate on several levels, he knew Nathan would learn more from facing his issue, himself. Ryan shook his head.
“No. I’m trying to be your friend. You’re going to have to be my friend, too, by doing your part to fix this. You have to do the right thing. Go call your mom. Tell her what happened and tell her we’re going to fix it, if she will let you go with me.”
“I have to tell my mom what your name is so you aren’t a stranger. Anyway, what is your name?” Nathan asked.
A slow, ornery grin spread across Ryan’s face. “Just Ryan.”
“Hey! Just exactly like Ryan Priest.”
Ryan laughed. “Yep! Just like him.”
“I can show you my baseball cards. You really do look like him. Almost. He’s not as old as you, though.”
Ryan laughed, again. “Oh, I’m sure he is just as old as me.”
“Do you ever play baseball like Ryan Priest? Maybe we could go to the park? My mom said when she has enough money, I can play little league. We could play baseball some days.”
“We have to take care of business. Besides, you don’t have a ball. Your bat is all jacked up. Didn’t you tell me that your mom wants you to stay inside while she’s gone?”
“Hey! You could be my babysitter,” Nathan excitedly suggested.
“Hey! Absolutely not,” Ryan incredulously chuckled. “I’d get us in too much trouble.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” the boy laughed. He looked over at the broken window and sighed. “My mom is really going to be really, really mad.”
“It’s not going to go away. You better get those little feet moving and go call her. We’ve got a lot to do before the sun sets.”
Nathan dropped his chin to his chest and his little shoulders drooped. “O . . .K! But, I’m gonna get dead. She is going to be so mad.”
Ryan watched as the boy turned and trudged across the greenway toward his house. Once the child was inside the home, Ryan went back to his car and drove one street over to the kid’s house. He laughed to himself as the reality of the situation occurred to him.
A babysitter?
Yeah.
Hell no!
~SIX~
As Ryan taught Nathan how to nail a sheet of plywood over a broken window, he found himself torn. He felt the boy was too young to be home by himself. However, he wasn’t so sure about taking on responsibility for this child. Now, however, if he left the child unattended, he would feel guilty if anything happened to him.
When he thought about it, Ryan didn’t know anything about Nathan’s mother. Ryan didn’t relish the idea of having his name dragged through the mud, simply for trying to be nice. He hated being jaded, but he now knew this woman was a single mother. There were plenty of ways she could rip him through the court system, if she wanted. He had seen it play out a number of times – some woman makes some claim and a man’s character would take a beating. He was perfectly capable of staining his own reputation. He didn’t need any help. Besides, no one cared about truth in those situations. Sure, sometimes, the guy deserved it. There were an awful lot of times that the guy didn’t. There were times a guy had just tried to be nice, just as Ryan was trying to do.
He had no aspirations of babysitting this kid. Kids were cool. Ryan liked how their little bodies contained so much energy. He liked the way it felt when a kid looked up at him and asked for his autograph. He had nothing against kids. This kid . . . this wasn’t his problem. As he drove the last nail into the board, he shook the thoughts from his head and glanced down at his little friend.
“When will your mom be home?”
“Sometime,” Nathan shrugged.
“Well, I know that. You don’t know what time she gets off work? You just sit there until she shows up?”
“We could go play baseball on my Nintendo NES. That way, if you’re tired we could . . .”
“What?” Ryan interrupted. “You mean a DS? NES is the first console that came out.”
“No, I have the NES. I have all kinds of games. Mostly baseball and . . .”
“You have the original Nintendo? The little gray boxy looking thing?”
“Uh, I think so. It has orange buttons and it’s black with light black stuff.”
“You have the game system with the flip up hatch where you put the game cartridges?”
“Yes. I guess so,” Nathan agreed. “My mom tells me to ask Santa Claus for a new game system every year. Santa left me a note that my game system fell out of the sleigh and he didn’t want to hurt that kid’s feelings and pick it back up because Santa is not an Indian giver.”
“No, no, no! You beat that kid’s ass and get your . . . No! Scratch that,” Ryan chuckled, realizing how quickly he had fallen into this boy’s make believe world. “Look, little dude, I feel really bad, but I have to get home. I can’t stay and play with you, today. Are you going to be OK until your mom gets home?”
“Nobody else likes playing games on that old clunk of junk, either,” the boy sadly offered.
“No! It’s not that. Look, I have to get home. My mom is going to be looking for me at dinner time. If I’m not there, I’m going to have to go hungry. She’s going to be mad. I’m going to get grounded, because no matter what, you always have to listen to your mom.”
“OK, well, what about tomorrow, maybe?” the kid asked, his big blue eyes peeking up from under the bill of his little baseball cap.
“Don’t you understand? I’m a grown man. You need friends your own age. Grown men don’t play . . . Well, we don’t play games . . . except . . .” Ryan sighed, bobbing his head as he put his hands on his hips. “Tomorrow, huh?”
“Yeah. Only if you want to,” the little boy said as his curious, pleading eyes studied Ryan’s face.
Ryan couldn’t look that kid in the face and tell him he wasn’t going to play video games with him. The pleading, lonely look in the child’s face had some magical power. Did Ryan really want to play video games with this kid? Not especially. Now, he had pleading puppy dog eyes begging for an answer.
Ryan bit his lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it, making a strange whistling noise as he tried to think of a way out of the situation. The boy was so focused, waiting for a response that he didn’t even blink his big blue eyes. Ryan squinted as he looked down at the kid.
“Do you have milk?”
“Some. Yes.”
“Cookies?”
“Ooo! I don’t . . . think . . . so.”
“What? What do you put in your milk?”
“Cereal.”
Ryan nodded as he pressed his lips together. “Alright. I can see that. You have to have milk for your cereal. So, no cookies? You’re going to have to trade me something, then.”
“Hmm . . . Baseball cards?” the boy offered.
“Nope! I want you to clean your room. I don’t want to come over to play and see your dirty drawers all over the floor or to have to smell stinky, dirty socks. That’s nasty. You gotta clean that up. Can you do that for me?”
In truth, Ryan didn’t care about the condition of the kid’s room. He was looking for a way to keep the boy busy for the afternoon. It wasn’t much, but maybe it would keep the kid inside and out of harm’s way.
“Easy!”
“OK. If you can do that, then I’ll forget you don’t have cookies. You clean your room and I’ll come play with you. But, you have to clean it for real. Don’t shove everything under the bed. I know that trick. I’m going to check.”
“You could just bring your own cookies.”
�
��Nope! This is the deal. You go home tonight and you clean your room, or tomorrow, we can’t play your game.”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but sometimes, you remind me of a grown up. That sounds exactly like something a grown up would say.”
Ryan chuckled. “I am a grown up.”
“But, I mean a real grown up.”
Ryan shook his head, fighting the smirk spreading across his face. “So, listen to me. I’m going to give you my phone number. You have to ask your mom if it is OK for me to come play with you. She’s the boss, remember? If she says no, you call me. Then, you can call me when you get home from school and we’ll figure out when I’ll come over.”
“Hey, Ryan?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“You really do look a lot like Ryan Priest.”
“I really do? That’s something, huh?”
“Maybe people prob’ly tell you that sometimes, huh?”
“On occasion,” Ryan sarcastically smiled.
As the two stood there, smiling at each other, Ryan’s cell phone rang from his pocket. His eyes widened.
“Oh, that’s my mom. I’m scared I’m going to be in trouble if I don’t answer her. You go home and do your part. Clean that room,” Ryan directed as his attention shifted to his phone screen. Surprisingly, it was not his mother.
“I’ll tell my mom to call you,” the boy called over his shoulder as Ryan answered his phone.
“Hello?”
“I need to tell you something,” a female voice purred in his ear.
“OK?”
“I went to show this baseball player this house today . . .”
“Uh-huh?”
“He’s sexy as hell and I can’t quit thinking about him.”
“You should’ve made him show you a good time.”
“He did. I can’t quit thinking about that, either. I’m so turned on, right now. I’m trying to find a house to show you.”
Ryan sighed. “It’s a little late to be looking at houses, don’t you think?”
“So, maybe you should come to my place.”
Ryan clenched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, I appreciate the invitation. I think I’m going to have to pass this time.”
There was silence from the other end of the line. Ryan opened his eyes, just in time to see Nathan safely duck in the back door of his family home. Content that the child was secure, Ryan started for his car and started driving toward his parent’s house.
“Are you still there?” he asked into the phone.
“Yes,” a heavy sigh poured through the phone. “I’m trying to figure out how to change that no to a yes.”
“It’s not happening. Not tonight, OK?”
“I Googled you. There are a lot of really good pictures of you on the internet.”
“You’re stalking me on the internet? Great! You know, I’m not sure that I want you to know where I buy a house,” he chuckled.
“I’m not a stalker or anything. I was just curious. I’m sure you must be curious about me, too, right?”
“Uh, maybe. I don’t . . . I don’t know.”
“Like, maybe you want to know what I’m wearing?” she giggled.
“Why? Did you stop by my mom’s house and steal my clothes, too? Creeper.”
“Very funny! No. I’m really not a psycho. I guess I’m just kind of interested in you. It’s not every day that I have a famous client who puts me on the floor and turns my showing into a completely different kind of show.”
“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have done that. That wasn’t very professional. I apologize.”
“Professional? It made my profession more fun,” she countered. “I’m not complaining. Obviously, I want a replay. It was fun.”
Ryan dropped his head. “Can I get a rain check, Scottie? It’s been a long day. I’ve had just about all the fun I can handle.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I have stuff I have to do tomorrow.”
“You still haven’t asked me what I’m wearing.”
“OK. What are you wearing?” he breathed a bored sigh.
“It’s black, lacy, and it has purple ribbon in the shape of a diamond on the abdomen.”
“See? That sounds too pretty to mess up, anyway.”
“I’m not changing your mind, am I?”
“I don’t think so,” he answered with a regretful tone.
“Party pooper!”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Scottie sighed. “That’s OK. I’ll just sit over here, in my lacy nightie, thinking of you, and sulking over being rejected.”
“Oh, come on,” Ryan laughed. “It’s not like we had some date and I’m cancelling on you. If I were you, I wouldn’t bank on getting me to do a lot of last minute jumping. I just moved back here. Everything is in upheaval. I’m looking forward to going back to my mom’s house, hiding in my old room and pretending I’m ten years old, again. So, it’s not so much about rejecting you as it is about feeling a little overwhelmed, I guess. Feel better, now?”
“Are you going to come look at houses tomorrow?”
“If there is something to see, then sure.”
As the two talked, there was a beep in Ryan’s ear, announcing another incoming call. “I’ve got another call. Are you calling me tomorrow?”
“Now, you’re ditching me for another call?”
“Yep. Gotta go. Call me tomorrow. Bye.”
He clicked over to the other call.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ryan,” he heard a little voice say through the phone.
“Hey! Who is this? Is this a some kind of prank call?” he joked.
The boy laughed. “No. This is your friend, Nate.”
“Oh, you’re kidding. How’re you doing, my friend, Nate?”
“Well, um, my mom isn’t home, yet.”
Ryan looked at his watch. “Are you doing OK?”
“I’m kind of hungry. I was going to eat cereal, but don’t worry. Now I’m not.”
“You were going to eat cereal, for dinner?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, though. I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m trying to save the milk for you for when you come to my house, tomorrow.”
Ryan smiled to himself. “I don’t need a bunch of milk. I only need a little bit. You eat your cereal.”
“Well, there’s only enough milk for one bowl.”
“Hey, Nate? Eat your cereal. If you’ll clean your room, I’ll bring some cookies and milk for us tomorrow when I come. OK? I was just kidding about drinking your milk. Eat your cereal.”
“You were just kidding? But, will you still come to my house?”
Ryan chuckled. “Yeah, buddy. If your mom says it’s OK, I’ll come to your house.”
The cute little boy was winning him over. Ryan felt sadness sweep through his body. He couldn’t judge the kid’s mother. He didn’t even know her. However, he could tell the boy was lonely. It was sad that such a young child had to be left to fend for himself. It bothered Ryan that Nathan was eating cereal for dinner.
“So . . . um . . . anyway . . . what are you doing, Ryan?”
“I’m listening to see if I hear you pour your cereal in a bowl and splash some milk in it.”
“You can hear that?”
“I don’t know. Let’s try it out and see. Do you have a bowl?”
“First, I have to find the salt.”
“Salt? What in the world do you need salt for?”
“If you put salt on it, it tastes like popcorn in milk.”
Ryan scoffed. “Wha-What? That’s . . . yeah! Uh, alright! But, just a little bit, OK?”
“Ah, nuts! That was maybe a lil’ too much,” the boy said, sounding preoccupied. “My mom’s home. I gotta go. Don’t tell her I called you, OK? Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I call you after a while?”
“Sure, buddy.”
“Bye!”
Before he could respond, the line went dead. Ryan found himself worrying about how much salt the kid had dumped in his cereal. Then, he hoped that it was actually Nathan’s mom, rather than someone else. Finally, as he pulled into his parent’s driveway, a thought occurred to him.
He muttered to himself. “Why the hell do I care?”
~SEVEN~
It was just around eight-thirty when Ryan’s phone rang. A smile widened his lips when he looked at the number. He fell back on the bed in his childhood bedroom and slid his finger across the screen.
“Hello?”
“Am I driving you crazy, yet?” Scottie’s voice came through the phone.
“Absolutely. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” he teased.
“I admit it. I was looking for an excuse to call you. But, I’m also calling with useful information.”
“Can you hold that thought and let me call you right back. I’ve got another call.”
“Are you serious?” she griped.
“I’ll call you right back.”
“Whatever!”
“Ugh,” he playfully growled at her as she disconnected the phone.
“Hey, buddy!” he said, answering the incoming call.
“Hello? Is this Ryan?” a woman’s voice inquired.
Ryan jolted upward, sitting up from his laying position. “Uh, yeah! This is Ryan. Who is this?”
“My name is Corlay. I’m Nathan’s mom.”
“Yeah. Uh, how are you?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate you helping Nate nail that board over the neighbor’s window. He seems to think he’s made a new friend. I appreciate you showing him kindness.”
“Oh, yeah. I busted out a window or two in my day,” Ryan chuckled. “It was no big deal.”
“Well, it was to him. He tells me you want to come play games with him. I don’t mean to be . . . I just don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“OK.”
“I’m sure you’re a very nice man. The world we live in . . . you just never know. You can never be too safe. He has strict rules that he’s not to be outside when I’m not home. I don’t know why you took him outside. I may be overprotective, but I don’t understand why you came to my house or what you’re trying to do.”