The Prodigal Valentine

Ben chose his car—a red Porsche, what else?—and they were off. Twenty seconds in, Ben realized his reaction time needed some serious retooling. The kid was beating the crap out of him. “Your dad play games with you?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Mom doesn’t like it much, though.”

“Oh?” Ben said carefully.

“She keeps saying…he needs to…grow up.” Apparently realizing his gaffe, the kid flicked a glance in Ben’s direction, only to then say, “Why’s Dad mad at you?”

Ben stiffened, tempted to pretend he had no idea what the kid was talking about. But what would be the point? “I’m not sure I can explain.” He glanced at the boy. “Why?” he asked, smiling. “Was he bad-mouthing me?”

Jake flushed. “Kind of. Papi though, he like couldn’t stop talkin’ about you when they were over at our house last night. He’s really, really happy you came home.”

“So am I,” Ben said. Then he bumped the boy’s shoulder with his own, earning him a quick, slightly embarrassed grin.

After another couple of seconds, though, Jake said quietly, “Mattie’s right, Mom an’ Dad really have been yelling a lot at each other lately.”

“That must suck,” Ben said after a short pause.

“Totally. Especially since it really scares Mattie, she’s just a little kid. And I know what Aunt Mercy said, about how she and my mom used to fight when they were kids, but this is different.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I dunno. It just is. Me ’n’ Mattie fight all the time, too, but…” Jake shook his head.

Ben’s game car crashed into a wall, bounced back onto the road, righted itself and kept going. Which is exactly what this conversation was going to do if he wasn’t careful. Except for the keep going part, maybe. “I don’t know, maybe it’s not as bad as it looks. After all, do you think they would have gone out tonight if they really weren’t getting along?”

Beside him, the kid shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe.”

After another few seconds—and another wipeout—Ben ventured, “Have you told your mom and dad how you feel?”

When several moments passed with no reply, Ben looked over to see the boy’s jaw set much too tightly for such a small person, and his heart cramped. “Jake?” he said gently.

His breathing suddenly labored, his nephew tossed down the controller. “This game is dumb, I don’t want to play anymore, okay?”

“Sure, no problem.” Ben tried to lay a hand on the kid’s shoulder, but he jerked away. So he lowered his head to look up into his face. “I know we only just met, but you can tell me how you feel, it’s okay—”

Huge, scared eyes met his. “You’re gonna tell, aren’t you?”

“Is anybody actually getting hurt?”

Jake looked away. Shook his head.

“Then I swear, dude, this is strictly between you and me. So are we cool?”

After a moment, the boy nodded.

Ben thought for a moment, then said, “When your mom and dad get mad, do they yell at you? Or Mattie?”

“Uh-uh.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, ’course. Well, Mom gets kinda crazy when I forget to clean my room an’ stuff, but that’s different.”

Ben smiled. “Yes, it is.” He sucked in a breath, then asked, “And you’re sure it’s only yelling? No hitting?”

Jake’s head popped up at that, his entire face contorting with his incredulous, “No! Geez, why would you think that? They just argue, is all.” He smacked at a tear that had trickled down his cheek. “Sometimes it’s not even loud or anything. It’s just like…I dunno. Like they forgot how to talk to each other an’ stuff.”

“Maybe this night out will be good for them, then,” Ben said. “Give them a chance to be alone, just with each other. So maybe they can figure out how to talk to each other again.”

“Yeah, maybe,” the kid said, but he didn’t exactly sound hopeful.

“Sometimes it’s tough, being a parent,” Ben said, and the kid frowned up at him.

“How would you know? You don’t have any kids, right?”

Right to the gut. “No, I don’t. But I’ve been around. And besides your Mami and Papi Vargas always swore your dad and I drove them crazy.”

A tremulous smile flickered across the child’s face. “For real?”

“Oh, yeah. And they used to argue, too, now and then. Nobody’s going to get along all the time, no matter how much they love each other. Sometimes, they’re going to disagree about stuff. Loudly. Like your aunt said, it usually blows over—”

From the doorway, Mercy softly cleared her throat. Both Ben and Jacob twisted around. “I thought I’d make root beer floats—how does that sound?”

“Cool,” Jacob said, grabbing his controller again. “Call me when they’re ready, ’kay?”

“Sure thing, your highness,” Mercy said on a soft laugh, her expression sobering when she shifted her gaze to Ben. “Come help me in the kitchen?”

Uh, boy.

“What happened to your sidekick?” Ben asked easily, warily, as he followed Mercy down the hall.

“She passed out long before they found Nemo,” Mercy said in a low voice. “No, leave her, I’ll put her to bed in a bit.”

“Brownies, popcorn, root beer floats…” Shaking his head, Ben leaned against the front of the sink, lowering his voice as well so as to not wake Mattie. “You trying to poison these kids or what?”

“It’s a party, I’m hardly going to serve them Brussels sprouts. And I overheard a lot of what you said to Jake.”

Yeah, he figured this was coming. “You’re not going to even apologize for eavesdropping, are you?”

The refrigerator’s compressor jerked awake when she opened the freezer to get out the ice cream, then the fridge itself for the bottle of root beer. “Nope.”

“And do I detect an edge to your words I should worry about?”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate you trying to make the kid feel better, but…” She plunked both soda and ice cream onto the counter, frowning at him. “But giving him false hope when you don’t really know the situation seems a little, I don’t know. Presumptuous?”

“Because who the hell am I to come waltzing back into everyone’s life and try to fix things I know nothing about?”

“Something like that, yeah.”