𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐈𝐈𝐈

Thoughts of Cody's father make my heart squeeze for just a moment, and for a split second, as I stare out into the sunshine, I'm left wishing for simpler times. I long for afternoons spent driving around town with him and his boys, with his arm around my shoulder and my bare feet on the dashboard. My stomach flutters at the memories of nights spent hiding from my mom in the back seat of that car, of the skunky smell of weed mingled with pine-scented air freshener. In my mind I see his smile, the same smile I see on his son's face, and I wish I was there all over again. Back where you can see the stars, where the roads are long and empty, and where everything was easy and carefree until it wasn't.

But I wish for the boy Evan was, not the man he became, and that fact turns the fluttering in my stomach to ice, and the butterflies sink like lead weights.

"Come get your breakfast, baby," I say, shaking the memories from my head.

I tip some cereal into Cody's bowl and watch him slide off of the sofa and walk into the kitchen, his socked feet silent on the floor. He pulls himself up and into his booster seat, waiting patiently.

"You wanna do something fun today?" I ask, pouring what's left of the milk into his plastic bowl.

His legs swing back and forth, and he nods.

"Yeah? How about we do some shopping and then go to the park?"

His blue eyes light up as he licks the milk moustache from his top lip. "Can we get ice cream?"

"Maybe," I say around a mouthful of dry cereal. "But only if you pack away all of your toys first."

Cody bounces in his seat, nodding. Before the morning is out his room is clean-well, four-year-old clean-and he's nagged me so much about ice cream that I agree just to get some peace and quiet. That's another thing about raising a kid that no one told me-they don't forget. You mention the word ice cream once and you're bound by kid-law to come through with the goods. Heaven help you if you don't.

The four-storey apartment building we live in isn't in the best part of town, in fact, it's miles away from being anywhere near the best part of town. But one of the reasons I chose it, apart from the cheap rent, was the park across the street. It's lush and green, with huge leafy trees that line the pathways, and a playground big enough to keep Cody entertained for hours. Today we walk through the park slowly, stopping to look at sticks and leaves and whatever else catches his attention, making our way to the supermarket on the other side.

I pick up a few things at the store while Cody sits in the trolley, happily munching on a little handful of grapes. Afterward, even after I tried to fill him up with fruit, he still eats a scoop of ice cream the size of a tennis ball. It's bright blue and bubblegum flavored, and I swear it covers every inch of his skin from ear to ear. In fact, I have to wet wipe it out of his ear, too.

I splurge on a scoop of cookies and cream for myself, and even decide to pay the extra dollar for the hot fudge sauce. It's sweet and creamy and as I'm licking the last of it from the spoon I realize that besides a handful of dry cereal it's the closest thing I've had to a meal since yesterday lunch time. My stomach gurgles with appreciation.

After gorging ourselves, we walk the groceries home and then head back to the park so that Cody can burn off a little of the sugar buzz.

"Stay where I can see you, okay?"

Cody wrestles his sweater off, and nods as he balls it up and hands it to me. I sit on a little wooden bench under a tree as he walks over to the playground. There are at least four other kids on the equipment, and two of them look about his age. His approach is slow and tentative, and halfway there he turns back to me, looking uncertain. I smile, encouraging him to keep going.