Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Because it was time.”
“She was so sad.”
“I think you were sad,” he pointed out. “She checked around a bit and then…she left too.”
“But those are her babies. If she sees them again, will she know? Will they?”
“Not sure, but remember the robins we saw? They flew away, the mom flew away, but they all stayed together and did the foraging thing later on before they joined the flock.”
“Spring is very difficult with all the babies in the yard,” I told him. “I always have to check for them on the ground before I let Dobby out.”
“I check before I mow too.”
“That’s a horrible thought. Thank you for putting that in my brain.”
Leaning my head back, he then took my face in his hands and wiped away my tears with his thumbs. “Is it at all possible that the idea of Kola flying back to California, even for a short time, and Hannah returning to the dorms, is making you a bit upset?”
“What? No,” I assured him.
“Of course not,” he said before he bent and kissed me, then darted into the kitchen. “Do you want a glass of water?”
“No, thank you,” I said, sighing.
The kids came in then, having returned from dropping off a gift at one of Hannah’s friends’ houses. Ellie, a girl she graduated with, had a brother who just turned five. Ellie always told us that her mother called Elliot—so cute, Ellie and Elliot—her oops baby. Hannah had gotten Elliot something educational and something fun. It was the way Sam and I had done it for her when she and her brother were young.
When Hannah walked through, she squinted at me. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I assured her.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Nothing? Really? With the puffy eyes?”
I shook my head, not wanting to worry her.
She turned her head. “Yo, Hahpah, bring out the sticky hand.”
It was a terrible New York or New Jersey, perhaps even Boston, accent. It was hard to tell what she was going for. This, however, was not the concern. Instead it was Harper, suddenly next to me, with one of those freaky little glitter gel hands that normally you throw at any hard surface and they do what they do, and stick. But instead of it hitting a wall, it struck the side of my face and sort of splatted.
“What’s happening right now?” I asked her.
“You bettah tell me what’s goin' on, old man.”
“Old man?” I asked, affronted.
Another sticky hand, this time from Kola—his was yellow in contrast to Harper’s blue—hit my laptop screen.
“Spit it out,” Kola commanded.
“I like this interrogation technique. I need some of these for work,” Sam said, turning to Jake. “Did you get one too?”
“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “But I put mine in my coat pocket and now it’s covered in lint. I gotta rinse it off,” he said on his way to the sink.
I got Kola’s sticky hand on my computer glasses the second time, which was apparently hysterical from the way he laughed like he was unhinged. I think it was watching it slip centimeter by centimeter off my right lens.
“You people are insane,” I assured him, peeling the hand from my glasses before taking them off. “I was just sad thinking about the––eww,” I said as Jake’s hand whacked the top of the table with an added splat of water.
“Disgusting,” Sam said flatly.
“Don’t make me have them get out the yoyos,” Hannah warned me. Apparently, they had all received party favors.
“It was nothing. I was just worried about the birds if I die.”
“What birds?” She looked confused.
“The birds outside,” Kola told her. “He feeds them and changes the water and all that. This is why I didn’t get a bird feeder at our house in Palo Alto. I don’t want to be responsible and then leave and what—they’re just screwed?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Exactly.”
“But why would you die?”
“If I die,” I told her. “If.”
“Why wouldn’t Dad feed the birds?” Hannah asked me. “You know, in remembrance of you or something?”
“Is there a poem like that?” Jake asked. “I feel like I had to write some kind of lame-ass paper about a guy who feeds birds.”
Hannah rolled her eyes.
“What if the new person in your father’s life doesn’t feed the birds or they want to move? Either way the birds are out of luck,” I threw out.
“What new person?” Kola wanted to know.
“The one he gets into a relationship with after I’m dead.”
“Yeah, but won’t Dad be too old to date?”
“No,” I assured him. “Certainly not.”
“This is morbid,” Harper commented. “Does anyone else think this is morbid?”
“I can’t see Dad dating after you,” Kola chimed in. “I mean, you totally get him. How will he find a new you?”
“Listen,” I began, “your father is a catch and––”
“Yeah, but the thing is, when people look at you, they think, he’s a trouble magnet, he’s not physically imposing, he can be clumsy sometimes and––”