After filing his company for bankruptcy, Kyle's wife leaves him and his three-year-old son. Now a forty-two-year-old divorcee with no parenting skills or money, Kyle decides to move back to the small home town he grew up in.
He should have lost all...
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Kyle and Otis had arrived on a Friday, so they spent the weekend indoors doing nothing in particular. Otis had warmed up to his grandmother and now called out to her and spoke using the few words he knew.
"You're up. Is your grandma awake?" Kyle asked as he spotted his three-year-old wander into the kitchen in pajamas.
"No, nana's sleeping," he muttered in a low voice, heading for the long sofa before climbing on top of it and cuddling up with the duvet that had been forgotten in the living room the night before. The young boy had begun to sleep in his grandmother's room while Kyle stayed alone in the attic room that was his when he was a kid. Otis didn't say anything after that, he just stared at the cartoons playing from a DVD on the old tele.
Kyle didn't mind that Otis had moved to stick close to his grandmother. It was how it was supposed to be. She was the one who knew how to bathe him properly and cook meals. She was also able to entertain his childish curiosity and play, a fit that only frustrated Kyle. He knew how to talk to adults, and to an extent, almost adults, but he didn't know how to talk to children at all. He didn't know any blokes like himself who could, so he tried not to beat himself up about it.
Otis was an on the whim child. Kyle had gotten married to the woman of his dreams, and following the pattern often expected of married couples, they decided to have a child together. Kyle hadn't realized he little he knew his own child until Anastasia left and he couldn't afford preschool and babysitting services. His son was a stranger in many ways, but he was still his son none the less, and Kyle would put in an effort to ease their relationship since the boy's mother had just up and left.
"Do you know you're going to school today?" Kyle asked, looking from the cup of coffee he was making to his son that was still transfixed by the television.
"School?" he said, looking over at Kyle. "But we're on holiday," the little boy said with wide eyes.
Kyle stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Otis' diction annoyed Kyle a bit, and he wasn't sure if it was because he still felt a bit conscious about his own rural accent that never really went away, or if it was because the British accent just sounded so out of place. It hinted at the preppy preschool Otis used to go to before, as well as the cartoons Anastasia made him watch.
"Yes school," Kyle muttered, stirring the contents in his mug the last time before walking to join Otis on the sofa. It was around seven in the morning, and Kyle had to drop Otis off at the preschool before ten. He had gone to see the place with his mother when he had accompanied her to the grocery store, she maintained. They had filled the registration form after taking a look around.
"I'll meet Ms. Tess?" Otis asked, and Kyle shook his head, using his free hand to pat Otis' head. The young boy seemed shocked by the reaction and closed his eyes as well as tense up.
"No, you're going to a new school," Kyle said, watching Otis' eyes for a reaction.
