Nameless

8. Playground

“Hey, have you ever been to a playground?” Chris asked me after breakfast.

“Yes, I have played on the ground. I used to sit in the grass outside my house and play dolls with beer bottles. ” I said, proud that I understood his question.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. My face flushed; I felt so stupid.

“What did you mean then?” I asked timidly.

“You’ll just have to see,” he smiled mysteriously, standing from the table and taking our plates to the sink. Harold’s chair scraped across the floor, and he kissed his wife before taking their plates himself.

“Goodbye my love; I’ve got a plane to catch.” He announced, kissing her again, “Lori, Chris.” He nodded at us.

“Bye Dad, see you Wednesday,” Chris shook his father’s hand. I smiled shyly and waved a little. Harold grabbed his coat and suitcase, and headed for the front door.

“Goodbye! Be safe!” Susan called after her husband.

“Of course!” he yelled back, shutting the door behind himself. Susan stood from the table.

“I guess I’ll just throw these in the dishwasher, and do some laundry.” She decided, “you two have fun at the park!” Chris took that as permission, and made for the stairs.

“Come on, bird,” he grinned excitedly, “You’ve got to wear a sweatshirt; it’s a little chilly out today.” I followed him upstairs, and couldn’t help but notice that Sarah’s door was tightly shut again. While he rummaged around for a sweatshirt for us both, I sprawled out on his blue plaid bedspread. Something landed near my head, and I sat up quickly. It was just a white sweatshirt. I took a couple deep breaths to calm my racing heart, and pulled the garment over my head. I looked over at Chris to find that he was still rooting around his closet for another one. When he’d found one at last, he shrugged it on, and turned around. I watched a smile spread across his face.

“W-what?” I asked, eyes wide, afraid there was something wrong with me.

“Nothing; you just look really cute in my clothes.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek, supporting himself with his hands on the mattress. “Are you ready, bird?” he whispered. I nodded. “Well, come on; do you want a piggyback ride downstairs?” I sat dumbly for a moment.

“A what?” I felt like an idiot for asking what was probably common knowledge.

“Here, just climb on my back,” he sat on the bed, and I scooted closer to him, “wrap your legs around my waist, and your arms go around my neck.” He explained patiently, as I shakily did as he said. “I’m going to stand up now, but don’t worry: I promise that I won’t drop you.” Chris warned. I felt the bed leave from under me, and hooked my ankles around Chris. He adjusted me until I felt less precarious, and took a few steps forward.

“Eep!” I gasped in his ear when I didn’t immediately fall. He chuckled.

“I told you: I’ve got you, little bird.” He assured me, “Watch the cast!” it was added as an afterthought, as I was about to link my arms as well.

“Sorry,” I muttered, resting my head on his back, and allowing him to carry me down the stairs. And out the door. And to his car. In fact, he didn’t let me go until he safely sat me in the car seat, and buckled my seatbelt for me. “Thank you.” I smiled gratefully.

“My pleasure.” He pecked my lips—too quickly for me to even have time to flinch—and firmly shut the door. He jogged around to the other side, and within a minute, we were off to our destination.