Page 17 of Backward Motion

Chapter Nine

Connor woke on his own without an alarm, which was unusual. Most mornings, he relied on several hits to the snooze button before he was ready to pry his eyes open and roll out of bed. But it was Sunday, and Sam had arranged his week so he didn’t have any spillover jobs that cut into his weekend. He lay in bed for a moment, marveling at that small feat of organization. Now that Sam was up to speed, he’d started picking up some of the extra paperwork that had stolen chunks of Connor’s meager free time.

Yesterday, Connor had spent the afternoon deep cleaning his apartment. Mostly because he wanted to distract himself from replaying the conversation with Sam but also because the place had been sorely neglected by his hectic schedule. Faced with another empty day stretching before him, Connor was at a loss for how to fill it. Coffee would be a good start.

He got out of bed and pulled on some clothes then padded barefoot to the living room. He took a record down from the shelf and placed it on the turntable. In the kitchen, he filled the kettle at the sink and set it on the stove. Even Gnarls Barkley wasn’t smooth enough to drown out the trill of Connor’s phone from the bedroom, and he sprinted down the hall to get it while the kettle screeched on the stove.

“Finnis, save me,” Brian said when Connor picked up. His voice was thick with congestion, and as he wheezed into the receiver, a piercing shriek rose in the background.

“What’s going on?” Connor asked, holding the phone away from his ear.

“Jules is at an education conference, and I’ve been struck down by Ellie’s plague,” Brian moaned. “The ship is sinking. I need backup.”

Connor shook his head at the irony. First weekend off in months, and he’d gone and jinxed it by imagining all the alluring possibilities. “You seemed fine at the game on Friday.”

“That’s how these things go. Preschool is a petri dish.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be any help,” Connor hedged.

“Matty loves you, and—to be honest—I’ve tried everyone else. Marcus and Evie have their hands full with their own spawn, and there’s no way I’m passing this bug on to Mimi while she’s pregnant.”

“But you’ll pass it on to me?”

“You’re a big boy.”

Connor snorted. “So I was your last resort?”

“Come on, why are you always so weird about kids?”

“Weird how?”

“Like they’re an alien species.”

“That’s not wrong.”

“Please, Connor, I’m begging here. Bring your tool bag and show Matty how many different ways he can make a hole in the wall. Use your big ol’ brain of facts and bore him to sleep. I’ll take anything.”

Connor laughed. “Okay, give me a chance to get some coffee in me first. I’m going to need it.”

“You sure are. Thanks a million, man.”

Connor hung up with a sigh. So much for his free morning. He walked back to the turntable and picked up the tonearm, the record spinning silently beneath.

Brian and Jules lived in a quaint little bungalow just south of the town’s main street. When Connor arrived at the house, he had to walk through a minefield of plastic kids’ toys to reach the front door, making sure not to trip on the overturned tricycle lying across the top step. He rapped on the door with his fist. From inside, he could hear the thud of small feet followed by an indistinguishable holler that he assumed belonged to Brian. He turned the knob, and the door opened on its own. Connor made his way down the hallway toward the noise. The floor was littered with clothes and toys and what appeared to be scattered Cheerios. He poked his head into the living room to find Brian prone on the couch, with Matty sitting on his chest like a conquering soldier and Ellie rocking nearby in a swing, her green eyes wide.

“Morning,” he offered, taking in the chaos of the room. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Daddy let me lick Nutella from the lid,” Matty announced triumphantly.

“I’ll take that as a no. Come on down, Matty. You’re going to help me make French toast.” Connor lifted the four-year-old from his perch, and Brian let out a relieved groan. He hoisted Matty over his shoulder and plopped him onto the island in the middle of the room. The combined living-dining-kitchen was small on its own but rendered almost claustrophobic with all the kid clutter.

“Don’t mind the mess in there,” his friend warned as Connor began stacking dirty plates in the sink. “I may have also overdosed on cough syrup, so don’t mind me either.”

“Sounds like a real party.” Connor wiped down the mosaic of spills on the counter to carve out a little working space. “Jules is going to lose her shit when she comes back to this.”

“Tell me about it,” Brian muttered, and from her swing, Ellie gave a sympathetic coo.

“At least Ellie seems to be on the mend,”Connor remarked.