share.
His mother left for her job, smiling and behaving as if everything were fine, and watching him do his best to help her feel like he believed it, struck a chord inside me. It’s a desire I remember well, albeit in my case, it was ultimately a failed one.
Joselyn is right there with the encouragement. “What do you want to see first? We’ve got all afternoon.”
“Zebras!” He bounces on his toes, running back to catch her hand.
“Hang on, let me see if I can find them.” She drags out the map, and I admire her devotion to helping them.
I sent Tom the Tank with Courtney this morning. He’ll make sure she arrives and returns safely, and while she’s working, he’s on break. I’ve got these two covered.
“Looks like we need to go this way.” Joselyn points towards the giraffe exhibit, and Ollie takes off running.
My throat tightens when he rounds a curve up ahead and we temporarily lose sight of him. “He needs to stay with us, Joselyn. Can you tell him without frightening him?”
“Oh my God, you’re right.” She takes off jogging at once, and I groan as I break into a run after her. My Italian leather slip-ons are not designed for sprinting.
As soon as I round the corner, my chest relaxes. Oliver is standing on a sculpted-stucco rock formation, gazing into a pen of black panthers.
“Look at them. They’re fierce. Wakanda forever!” He pumps a fist in the air, and I have no idea what he’s talking about.
Joselyn reads my expression. “Seriously? You don’t know Black Panther?”
“In case you missed it, I don’t have children.”
“Still, it was groundbreaking. Revolutionary. An all-black Marvel movie? It kicked ass.”
“Marvel… that’s the comic book franchise? I prefer more sophisticated films.” I lift my chin. “He’s getting too far ahead again.”
She points back at me as she takes off after him. “That’s where you’re wrong. The Marvel cinematic universe is deeply complex. People dismiss it because of all the explosions, but the movies ask real, philosophical questions. They comment on the state of the world…”
“Yes, I’m sure they’re art house quality. Would you please?” I motion towards our escaping little ward, and she shakes her gorgeous head, taking off after him.
We’re finally back together at the zebra exhibit, and I can’t resist. “Black on white or white on black?”
Joselyn musses Oliver’s hair. “What do you think, Ollie? Are they black stripes on white or white stripes on black?”
The little boy stands on the edge of the fence watching the small horses enraptured. “I think it’s white on black.”
“They have so much white, though.” Joselyn’s nose wrinkles, and I like seeing her relaxed and happy. “My vote is for black on white.”
An ostrich walks slowly between two of the striped horses, lifting its powerful legs and replacing them slowly, turning its head jerkily.
Oliver is transfixed. “They’re like robots.”
We watch a little longer before turning away and entering the aquatic zone, and Joselyn claps her hands. “This is where the frogs are, Ollie!”
He jumps and starts to run, but she grabs him fast. “You can’t leave us in here. I need you to stay where I can see you, okay?”
The little boy blinks a few times before nodding obediently, and to his credit, he’s at our side the remainder of the trip—which tells me all I need to know about how much he knows about their situation.
“I thought you didn’t like frogs.” I arch an eyebrow, and she waves me away.
“It’s for a good cause.”
We see alligators, enormous green pythons, tree frogs, and of course, an adorable koala bear baby. It’s a full afternoon of walking—or in Oliver’s case, running, jumping, and climbing—and by the time we’re driving back to my place, he’s out cold on the backseat of my “cool space car,” as he calls it. Something to do with the inventor sending bored billionaires into space.
Joselyn looks up at me from where she’s sitting quietly in the passenger’s seat. “Good work today. You couldn’t have been sweeter to him, and I think it’s so important for him to see a nice man outside of the teachers at his school.”
Her words provoke a sad nostalgia, but I force a smile. “It was a fun day.”
She squints an eye at me. “Why do I feel like you’re not telling me something?”
It’s uncanny how this woman can read my expressions. I’m accustomed to watching people, reading them for any change, any indication I need to take control of the situation. It’s a reflex honed after