James had known kids, especially little boys, were active, but in the way he knew crocodiles were dangerous without ever actually encountering one.
Now he was not only encountering a young boy, he was supposedly parenting the poor kid. Although, maybe typhoon would be a better descriptor, one that merged with a tsunami at bath time.
It was bed time, officially Zander’s but likely James’ as well, at least once the story, and the glass of water, and the last trip to the loo were done.
Damn but he was cute though, tucked up in the spare bed, with that tatty, soft, toy hippo snuggled under his chin. “Dad? Can you tell me the story about the bear?”
“There are lots of stories about bears, kiddo, which one?” Let’s not dwell on how hearing the kid call him ‘Dad’ twisted his heart into a new and better shape.
“The one Mum tells, where the mama bear and baby bear curl up in a cave to be safe from the storm.”
“I don’t know that one, is it from a book?”
“No, it’s a Mum story. I sort of hoped you’d know though and know the ending.” Zander looked sad, not crying sad, that would be better, this was a deeper grief.
“You never heard the ending?”
“Mum said the bears were sleeping through the storm still, and we had to wait for them to wake up.”
James sat on the side of the bed and put his hand on his son’s shoulder, such a small shoulder, carrying too much. It was too easy to forget, during the chaotic days, that this was a child who’d been dumped on a stranger’s doorstep when his mother, his only parent, his only family, had disappeared.
He gave that little shoulder a gentle squeeze. “How about you tell me the start of story, and I’ll see if I can remember, or find anything for when you wake up.”
A small smile and a wriggle closer. “Okay. But it has to be really good.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“…and you can’t do better than that.” The smile had become a pensive sigh.
Of course, that was something Mara always used to say.
James leaned back on one hand. “So, does this story start with Once Upon a Time…?”
“No, it starts with It Was a Dark and Stormy Night…”
Of course it did.
The DNA of Stories 