DEPRAVITY: KING UNIVERSITY

by Chance, Jacob

  The park is close by, barely a five minute walk for my long legs. As I step inside the open black wrought iron gates, my eyes scan the surrounding area for Sophie or my little man. I find them going down the wide, yellow slide together, both of them beaming widely. It’s a heartwarming sight to see such bona fide joy on Joey’s face.

  I automatically move in their direction and I’m there to scoop Joey up when Sophie sets him on his feet. My eyes catch her guarded look before she schools her expression.

  “Hey, slugger. How are you?”

  “Daddy here.”

  “Yep, Daddy’s here.” I kiss his cheek and hold him close to me as I glance at Sophie. “When I got to work there were fire trucks and police everywhere. There’s some kind of chemical odor inside the building and they wouldn’t let us in.”

  She frowns, her arched brows angling inward. “Oh no. Did anyone get hurt?”

  “No, everyone seems to be fine, but that means no work tonight. I figured I’d come and enjoy the park too.”

  “Oh.” Her doe eyes open wide. “I can go, if you want.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder.

  “No. You don’t have to. Unless you’d like to. I’ll pay you regardless. It’s not your fault my work got cancelled.”

  “I don’t want to be in the way of your time with Joey.”

  “You won’t be. Joey and I played all day, right, buddy?” Joey nods his head, blue eyes sparkling up at me.

  “Sophie stay.”

  I chuckle. “There you go. You heard from the boss. He wants you here.”

  She smiles, her lips compressed into a narrow curve. “But do you want me here?” Gaze focused on me, she chews on her bottom lip. The toe of one of her purple Chucks absentmindedly draws in the dirt in front of her. Back and forth it traces an arc until there’s a shallow dip in the soil.

  “Yes. I’d like you to stay. It will give us a chance to get to know each other better. I think we got off on the wrong foot some. I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us. Kids can sense that stuff like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Okay, I think that sounds like a great idea. I don’t really want to think you’re a j.a.c.k.a.s.s., but…” Her words trail off and she giggles, hitching her shoulders in a quick shrug, as if to say that I acted like one. Which I did. I’ll give her that.

  I smile, letting her know I’m not holding her words against her and then glance down at Joey. “What do you want to do next, bud? The slide again? What about the swings?”

  “Swiiings,” he shouts, pointing toward them.

  I laugh. “At least he’s decisive.” We begin walking toward the area designated for the metal A frame structure.

  “Down, Daddy.” Joey leans forward, trying to dive head first from my arms.

  “Oh no you don’t. Not so fast, bud.” I catch hold of him and place his stomach across the inside of my forearm lying him parallel to the ground. Holding onto one of his legs with my other hand, I swoop him up and down and make plane noises while he giggles wildly. As we get closer to the swings I have him dive bombing toward the mulch covered ground and finally set him on his feet. He’s off like a newly launched rocket, racing to the nearest swing.

  “Daddy. Daddy.” He bounces up and down excitedly.

  “Turn around,” I say and place my hands on his shoulders assisting him. “I’m going to put you on the seat and you have to hold onto the chains. Do you remember how we did this last time?”

  He nods. I slide my hands under his armpits and raise him. Sophie catches the seat and holds it still, so I can set him down on the black plastic.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, as I assist Joey, grabbing the thick chains with his tiny hands.

  “No problem.” Sophie ruffles Joey’s hair and moves away so she can safely watch.

  “Hang on tight. Don’t let go.” Drawing the swing backward toward me, I raise it slightly and then let go. Joey squeals as he starts to move. He doesn’t care that he’s not going fast, he’s happy to be swinging at all.

  “Fast, Daddy,” he calls out and I grimace. He’s a boy. Of course he wants to do more daring things. I was a daredevil when I was younger. My mother said I gave her gray hair at an early age because I was a fearless climber.

  Even well into my twenties I still had a recklessness about me, but Sandy curbed a lot of those tendencies after we got together. Being so straightlaced herself, she didn’t want to be with a wild man. That meant no more fighting or drag racing. No more motorcycles or cliff jumping.

  I give Joey’s seat a gentle push and he belly laughs.

  I forgot how much I enjoyed all those activities I used to take part in. How strange that it took me until now to remember. It’s almost like I’d blocked that part of my memories out, but Joey’s laughter and enjoyment brought it all back. Am I learning through him who I am again? No. I answer my own question. I’m learning who I’ve become. This new version of me isn’t so bad. There’s still room for improvement, but each day gets a little easier.

  My eyes briefly flick to Sophie, catching the smile on her face as she watches Joey. My own lips part in a grin as I continue to push my son while he shouts instructions.

  “Higher. Faster,” he orders. This brave little guy has no fear. He wants me to push him high enough to fly with the birds.

  “Where’s the point that life clips our wings and we become afraid of everything that we once enjoyed?” I verbalize the question, mostly to myself. And ruminate over the answer as I lose myself in the repetitive nature of pushing Joey.

  “Are you asking me?” Sophie questions hesitatingly.

  “I’m open for feedback. You’re young enough that maybe your wings haven’t been clipped yet.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “What’s the point where we go from being fearless in life to being concerned about consequences or playing it safe?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but I’d say it has to do with your cognitive reasoning developing. It’s like a cautionary voice reminding you of why something is a bad idea. I know it takes guys longer to develop theirs than girls. Personally, I feel like mine has always been there.”

  “You’re not a daredevil?”

  “Pfft, not at all. I’m all about following rules and doing what I need in order to have the future I want.”

  “And what do you want?” She moves a couple of steps closer until I can see her in my periphery.

  “I want to do well at school and make my parents proud.”

  “What else?”

  “I want to graduate and find a job I love that will provide me with a solid income.”

  “Any idea of what you want to be?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’m throwing around a couple of ideas. I’m giving myself the first semester to figure it out.”

  God she’s so young. Her whole life is in front of her. She can do anything she wants, be anything she wants. At least until she marries some guy and he cheats on her. Then she’ll find out real fast how life can change on a dime. Does she realize that you can plan all you want, and still not end up where you intended?

  “It’s good to make plans, but just remember, sometimes even the best laid plans go to shit and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

  7

  Sophie

  What’s he talking about? Is he speaking from experience and trying to warn me?

  Brushing my bangs to the side, I study him as he continues to propel the swing. “I know there aren’t any guarantees. I consider myself a realist more than an optimist.” I’ve always understood life's ups and downs. My parents raised my brothers and me to work hard and be grateful for every little thing.”

  He bobs his head in acknowledgement. “Being a realist is good.”

  “I think it is. I also believe you have to make things happen. Opportunities don’t magically float your way.”

  “You don’t believe in the law of attraction?” His head swings my way before returning to Joey, but the movement was so qu
ick, I couldn’t read his expression.

  I cross my arms over my chest and carefully study him. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or facetious.”

  His gaze returns to me once more. “It was a valid question. If you don’t want to answer you don’t have to.”

  “No, I don’t mind answering. I guess it depends on how you mean it. If you’re referring to relationships, I think you can attract a certain type of person that you’re drawn to, whether it be based on looks or personality. But if you never leave your house you’re probably not going to meet them. And as far as goals go, the law of attraction doesn’t eliminate the need for hard work. You can’t will something into existence without putting the effort in too.”

  “Right. There has to be an action to get a reaction.”

  “Exactly. And if you want to improve your life, you have to take steps to do so.”

  “Why do I feel like your words are aimed at me?” He tips his head toward me, a dark brow quirked teasingly.

  “If you find value in my words then I guess you can consider them aimed at you,” I point out, holding my palms up.

  “Maybe you should consider a career as a psychologist. You seem to have your head on straight for someone so young.”

  “Thanks. I like to think I do. And psychology is something I’m interested in, but unfortunately, not the only thing. Narrowing my list down will take some work.” I place a hand on my hip. “By the way, I’m not that young. I’ll be twenty in a few months.”

  “Twenty seems like a lifetime ago,” he sighs. His teeth rake over his bottom lip and his lips part to speak.

  “Daddy, higher,” Joey cuts in, ending whatever Miles was about to say.

  I wish I knew what he was going to share. It might’ve been something meaningless, but it didn’t feel like it was going to be. His sigh felt heavy and his mannerisms were thoughtful. Dammit. I want that moment back. I’m not sure why I’m experiencing such regret over something that was more than likely insignificant. But Miles appears to be one of those men who only speak when they need to. He doesn’t fill up space with unwarranted conversation and sometimes his silences communicate more than another person’s words could.

  Thirty minutes later the three of us are walking down the sidewalk, heading back toward the house. Joey bounces between us, holding our hands, his little feet toddling as fast as he can go.

  “Daddy tired.”

  Miles laughs. “Daddy isn’t tired. I think you mean you’re tired.” He stops and I release Joey’s hand as he raises Joey up onto his shoulders. Gripping both of his small, dirt covered hands, he keeps him firmly in place. After the swings, Joey decided he wanted to dig in the giant sandbox. Instead of picking up one of the shovels, he used his hands and pretty much every other inch of himself. Covered with a layer of sand and dirt from head to toe, he doesn’t appear to care. A mile wide smile stretches his mouth, showing off his straight, white baby teeth.

  “Run, Daddy,” he orders and Miles moves in a gentle jog, bouncing him up and down. Joey squeals with happiness and my chest fills with emotion. I’m overcome by how damn cute they are together.

  Watch yourself. It’s okay to fall in love with this adorable little boy, but not his daddy. The summer will end and I’ll be going off to school. Joey will have a new babysitter and Miles will forget I exist. I need to make sure I can walk away with no attachments. Romantic feelings have no place in this equation. I refuse to start college pining for an unattainable, older man. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity since I was old enough to know what college was, and nothing’s going to shake my focus from doing my best. Not even this handsome single father walking beside me right now.

  * * *

  We step inside the entryway and kick off our shoes. Reaching up, I remove Joey’s sneakers while he’s still on Miles’ shoulders. Doing so places us face to face, and torso to torso. My eyes skate between his leanly muscled chest and Joey’s laces. I fight every urge I have to meet his deep blue gaze. I’m afraid of what I’ll see reflected back at me. Maybe I’m imagining the sensation of the air thickening between us and the hesitation in his breaths. But I don’t think I am and that scares and exhilarates me at the same time.

  Keeping my focus on the task at hand, I tug Joey’s shoes free and turn to place them on the floor. Straightening back up, I ask, “Do you want me to give him a bath before I go?” At the mention of the word bath, Joey leans forward over Miles’ head, trying to get to me.

  “Bath. Bath. Want bath.”

  Miles laughs. “I guess we don’t need to ask him.” He lifts Joey from his shoulders and places him in my arms. “Here you go. One grimy, little boy.”

  I scrunch my nose up as I take in the filthy mess he is. “Dude, you’re so dirty. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” Galloping across the shiny hardwood surface to the staircase, I climb to the second floor and step inside the bathroom. Joey runs to the tub as soon as I set him on his feet. “Not so fast, you need to take your clothes off first.”

  He sits on the tile floor, tugging his socks free from his feet while I turn the water on and get the temperature perfect. I help him remove the rest of his clothes and give him a boost over the high edge of the tub. He sits down in the water with a splash.

  “Toys, Sophie.”

  “Hey, you need to say please or I won’t get them for you.”

  “Pwease,” he chimes out immediately, and I grab the basket of bath toys from the floor while kneeling beside the tub.

  “Which ones do you want to play with?”

  He points to the small pirate ship and the friendly looking sea monster. I hand them off to him, but won’t release my hold on them.

  “Mine,” he shouts.

  “Say thank you and you can have them.”

  He smiles innocently at me, and it’s all I can do not to smother his dirt caked face with kisses. He’s painfully adorable.

  “Tank you.”

  “What a polite young man you are. Here you go.” I hand off the ship and sea monster while I dig through the basket for a toy I can play with. I find a small, orange nerf squirt gun and twist the cap off, running it under the water until the chamber is full. The water level in the tub is high enough, so I shut the faucet off and screw the cap back on the gun. My finger depresses the trigger spraying a stream into the water. Damn, this thing is pretty powerful.

  I’m not sure it’s age appropriate, but what do I know? Miles’ comments about people who don’t have kids giving advice filters into my thoughts. He’s the one who put the gun in the basket, so I guess he doesn’t mind his son playing with it.

  Joey laughs as he watches me. He holds out his hands. “Mine.”

  “Hey, you have to share sometimes.” I spray the inside of the tub until the gun is empty. Twisting off the cap, I dunk it under water, refilling the chamber.

  “Mine, pwease.”

  I glance at Joey. “Now you’re learning. Here, you play with this while I soap your hair up.” I hand the gun over and grab a cup to pour water over his head. Careful to keep the water from his eyes, I saturate his hair until the curly strands stretch out from the weight of the water. I squirt some baby shampoo in my palm and rub my hands together before I begin to massage it around in his hair. Gently, I scrub with my nails to remove any sand and dirt. Turning the water back on, I fill a cup, repeatedly rinsing the soap from his hair. Once I’m done, I soap up a small face cloth and run it over his face, arms, and legs until he’s squeaky clean. Wringing out the cloth, I set it on the lip of the tub and lean over the edge once more.

  Bam. Water blasts my face and I sputter. Joey giggles, firing another direct hit to my face. I hold my hands out in front of me as he continues to squirt me over and over again. Most of the shots target my face and then rain down onto my shirt. By the time I get the gun away from him, I’m drenched and he’s inordinately pleased with himself.

  Rising to my feet, I grab a towel from under the sink and wipe the multitude of droplets from my face and neck. I blot
at my white t-shirt, but it clings to my chest and there’s nothing I can do about it. Ugh. Cold and wet, the cotton feels horrible against my skin.

  “How are you guys doing in…” Miles trails off mid-sentence when he catches sight of me. “Looks like you had an unexpected bath too,” he say while laughing.

  Brushing my wet hair back from my face, I realize what a mess I must be and I titter along with him. “I feel like I need to do a public service announcement about your son’s killer aim with a squirt gun.”

  “Oh, you let him play with the gun?” He clenches his teeth together as if I shouldn’t have, which annoys me to no end. Why was the freaking toy in the basket then? Huh, dad?

  “I figured if it was in there with the other toys, then you must let him play with it. It seemed like common sense, but I don’t have kids, so what do I know?” I grouse.

  Miles grins and I want to punch him in his straight nose. “Don’t get all pissed off. It’s not a big deal. You can get Joey out of the tub since you’re already wet and I’ll grab you one of my t-shirts to change into.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I lower the towel from in front of me and hold my arms wide. “I look like a drowned rat.” Glancing down at my shirt, I giggle and then raise my head to catch Miles’ gaze. His eyes aren’t on mine, though. They’re aimed lower, laser focused on my chest. I’m sure he can see my bra and even worse my hard nipples standing at attention. My stomach flutters at the dark look in his hungry stare and I nervously spin around to face the tub once more.

  Setting about getting Joey from the water and drying him off keeps me distracted and I hear Miles’ retreating footsteps as he walks toward his bedroom. I’ve never been in his room and I only have a vague idea of where it is. There are four bedrooms up here on the second floor. I’m assuming he’s not next door to Joey, so that leaves one of the two doors on the other side of the hallway.