Page 42 of Lance

He nods. Shit. I couldn’t read at six, could I? I don’t even remember what grade that was at school.Shit—school! Should Simon be in school? I have no idea what’s involved in getting a kid registered for school. I push it from my mind. One thing at atime.

I order our room service and head to the wet bar. If I’m going to survive the morning, coffee is a must. Simon follows me there, two steps behindme.

“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, wondering if there’s juice or something in theminibar.

“I usually drink chocolate milk in themorning.”

Great. I’m fairly certain I won’t find that amongst the mini bottles of liquor. I head to the phone and call room service again, asking them to add a chocolate milk. Simon follows me to the phone too, standing so close I almost run into him twice on the short walk across theroom.

“So breakfast is on the way. What, uh, what else do you usually do in themorning?”

“I usually watchcartoons.”

Cartoons! Thank God for the TV. I flip it on and start scanning channels, looking for something that seems kid-appropriate. I stop at a purple dinosaur puppet. “How’sthis?”

I didn’t realize that six-year-olds could get offended, but Simon definitely is. “This is for babies,” he scoffs, eyes narrowed atme.

“Right, right.” I flip some more. “You see anything you like?” He shakes his head.Awesome.

“Well, maybe not cartoons then. I’m sure we can find something else to do while we wait for the food…” My eyes land on the coffee table. I hadn’t noticed in the darkness last night but it’s covered in drawings. “Did you dothese?”

“Most of them. Willa helped me alittle.”

I pick up the top piece of paper. Someone—Willa, I’m guessing—drew a series of faces in varying degrees of completion across the page. They appear to be some kind of superhero. Next to her sketches are Simon’s efforts. You can tell a kid did them by the way the lines wiggle and the size and shapes are off, but they’re still pretty good. “It looks like she kept you busy,huh?

“Is she going to come back today?” Simonasks.

I look down at him. “Do you want herto?”

He smiles for the first time since Angie left—at least, the first time I’ve seen. “Yeah. She wasreallyfun. She let me order three different dinners and she knows a lot aboutCloneWars.”

Maybe she’ll come back and save me again,I think, but push the thought from my head. I promised myself I wouldtry.

My resolve is seriously faltering by the time we finish eating. Simon seems happy enough with his waffles but he doesn’t have much to say. And though I scan my brain in desperation, I can’t think of anything to talk about. What do six-year-olds like? Why do I feel so awkward aroundhim?

When the silent, uncomfortable meal has finally ended, I stack up the dishes and go to put them on the wet bar. “Willa says they go outside,” Simon informs me. “Didn’t you knowthat?”

“Kid, there’s no end to the things I don’t know right now,” Igrumble.

“What?”

“Nothing. Here, let’s see if we can find a cartoonnow.”

Thankfully I find something on Nickelodeon that he deems “okay, I guess.” I tell him I need a bathroom break and escape to thebedroom.

Thirty seconds later my mom picks up the phone. “Lance, sweetheart. I was supposed to call you, wasn’tI?”

Her voice, so warm and familiar, makes my chest constrict. I’m mortified to find that wetness is stinging my eyes. This, I realize, feels an awful lot like the time I got busted stealing that car in high school. Calling to tell her that I’d been arrested, hearing the utter disappointment in her voice, remains to this day one of the hardest things I’ve everdone.

What is she going to think when I tell her about this latest mistake? She’s been putting up with my shit for years, but this has to take thecake.

“Lance?” she says again. “Are you there,sweetheart?”

“I’mhere.”

“Oh, good. I thought my reception went out. It’s been pretty patchy outhere.”

I frown. “Outwhere?”