Invisible String

Chapter Four- Time, Mystical Time

Bradley was wildly embarrassed with how  frequently he'd thought about the beautiful stranger nearly a week after the fact. He was equally as mortified because he thought she looked familiar, like someone he should know, but couldn't quite place. It was Malibu; odds were she was involved in the industry in some capacity. He'd gotten the sense she had definitely recognized him and further complicating matters was how he'd not only dumped his entire drink on the floor, but he also couldn't get out anything remotely articulate. Usually, he prided himself on the ability to converse easily with anyone, but he'd somehow lost the capacity for speech.

There was something about her, though, something that had made him a bumbling mess. He trembled for a good half an hour after, that weird knot in his stomach taking forever to unfurl itself.

If he had to chalk it up to an explanation, the likely one would be stress. Aside from his personal life completely coming apart, moving houses and trying to make things as normal as possible for his son, he'd added to his already full plate by giving himself a strict deadline to adhere to with rewrites and casting. Ally was first, once he found her, he was sure everything else would fall into place.

There was little time to dwell because the new place was a mess and he hated that nothing was really ready, despite best efforts.

"We can paint the walls whatever color you want, Griff. And once your stuff is in here, it'll look like home."

He winces at his choice of words because he knows what a hypocrite that makes him sound like.  It's not home yet, not to Griffin, and not to him, either.

Griffin's lower lip juts out, just a little, as he takes in the mountains of boxes that litter the floor of bedroom that will be his.

Bradley crouches down so that they are at eye level, waving a hand gently over his head.

"Hey, buddy," he comforts, "I know this is weird, right? It's a brand new place and your room doesn't look the same as it does at mom's. I'm still getting used to it, too. But we'll figure it out together, okay?"

He doesn't know if that's enough, just a promise, but Griffin nods and Bradley sees the determination in his face, such a mirror image of his own that a lump forms in his throat.

"Can we get pizza?"

He laughs and it feels good, not so heavy. "Yeah, I think we can manage that."

Griffin tugs the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, covering up unruly brown curls. "Mom never lets me get pizza on a school night."

"Oh, yeah?" He treads carefully, having the distinctive impression this might be a test.

"She says I have to eat my vegetables so they give me brain power." He frowns, toeing one socked foot across the hardwood. "I told her my brain's powerful enough without the vegetables, but she doesn't listen."

Bradley bites down on a smile. "Well, okay, you've got a point. I don't see harm in having pizza tonight, G, but let's not make a habit of it."

They end up having a good night; pepperoni pizza in front of the iPad, watching Lego Batman (he's crossing his fingers that Griffin doesn't mention to his mother than they watched a movie while they ate, something Abby's never been keen on) and Griff's fairly cheerful throughout, not giving him a difficult time to put his pajamas on and brush his teeth.

When it comes time to go to bed, though, he hesitates, that worried expression from earlier crossing over his face.

"Can I sleep with you, dad?" He asks, uncertain. "I saw weird shadows in my room last time. I think there may be a ghost living there."