The Next Best Thing

Chapter 7

Emma passed Gabe in front of the television to get to her kitchen.

"Gabe, honey? The next time you see me talking to strangers in my underwear, can you say something?"

"Okay. Wait. Is Mr. Garner still a stranger?"

"Yes. Just because he lives with us now doesn't mean we know anything about him. Did you eat your cereal already?"

"No. Can I have Dino Puffs?"

Emma looked at the four open boxes of cereal sitting on top of her fridge. "Have Raisin Bran instead."

"Why? I didn't do anything," he protested.

"It's not a punishment," Emma assured him. "You want a grilled cheese to go with it?"

"For breakfast?"

"I think today should be the last day for dairy and fibre. Just for the next two weeks."

"I don't get it."

"Never mind," Emma said, filling up a bowl with dinosaur shapes and meteor marshmallows. Why should Gabe's little digestive system suffer? She brought it to him and brushed the bed head away from his eyes.

"Listen, kiddo, until we get the bathroom fixed, there are new rules for using it. Number one is I don't want you going in unless you make sure next door's is empty first."

"How am I supposed to check if you won't let me climb up and look?"

"You call out, 'Is anybody in there?' first. If Mr. Garner is in there, you wait."

"What if it's an emergency?"

Emma conjured up the image of an imaginary ancestor confined under a cage-crinoline by seven layers of dress, laces, and boning, asking the same question. "Why don't any of you guys think you can hold it?"

"Sometimes I already waited too long."

"Makes sense, I guess. For an eight-year-old. Okay, if you can't hold it, you just make sure I know you're going in."

"What if you're in there?"

"Well obviously you don't come in if I'm in there. That hasn't changed. Unless it's a real emergency. And I won't be in there if Mr. Garner's on his side because I'm going to ask if he's there first."

"What if I'm in there first?"

"If Mr. Garner, or me, or anyone, asks and you're already in there, you tell everyone to wait till you're done, okay? Even if it's an emergency," she added, cutting off his next question. "And you know what? Maybe from now on, leave the door open."

Gabe shot her some serious side-eye.

"Or, I don't know, close it. But maybe like, half way." He took a scoop of cereal and leaned away from her so he could see the television, her cue to drop the subject. "Better not tell any of this to your therapist," she said half-jokingly.

"Okay."

"But don't tell her I told you not to. You can tell her if you want to, but remember, you don't have to."

"Okay."

She needed coffee.

"Auntie Em?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"I kind of feel like having eggs too."

"Great idea. Let's have eggs and start over."

*****

Waiting for Gabe outside child therapist Mercy Lane's office always made Emma shake her head. If her dentist's office looked anything like it, she never would've waited out a root canal to the point where a bottom molar had to be removed. (She could spare one other, on the opposite side, she told herself. That was it.)