It's funny how grief sneaks up on you. My sister's been gone for over a year now, and I think I'm moving on and then BAM! I see her smile in little Lucian's laughter, or think how much better she'd be handling this than me. It steals my breath, and I'm suddenly right back at the beginning again.
What in the world do I know about raising a kid? Sure, the Academy's great, always dropping in with offers of babysitting while I'm on missions, and the kid's such a natural flirt that half the ladies in the parish are already in love with him, but at the end of the day, I'm responsible for making sure he doesn't end up being a serial-killer or a lawyer or something. I mean, I guess if he really ends up having a passion for the law, I could be supportive and such, but come on...who in their right mind would trust me to raise a productive member of society?
I swear my sister's doubled over in laughter right now as I try to think of a way to deal with her son's kleptomania without busting up myself. He's just like I was. I thought that I'd escaped karmic retribution by choosing to not procreate, but no-- Liz had to mess that up by birthing my own personal mini-me. Karma, I hate you.
"Luke," I hiss through my clenched jaw. His eyes go wide, and I shake my head at how menacing my voice comes out. I'm not really mad, but if I open my mouth even a little bit, I'm going to lose it and end up making the kid think that it's funny to pick pockets. "Is this yours?" I ask, holding up the brown leather wallet.
He looks down at the ground and shakes his head slowly. "No, Uncle, but-"
I cut him off, slicing my hand in the air. "No, boy. We don't take things that don't belong to us."
Right...unless it's your mission...
"Now go and return it this instant!" I hand him the wallet and mischief sparks in his eyes.
"'Kay," he answers, all too quickly. I'm not sure what the kid's up to, but there's definitely a scheme running through his blonde little head.
He skips off toward the teen he lifted it from and blasts past him, heading over to an older gentleman sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper.
"Hey Mister!" Luke shouts, skidding to a stop in front of him. "I think you dropped this!"
I jog over, ready to intercede when the man reaches for his pocket and gasps.
"Thank you, young man! I don't know how I could have missed that!" He takes the wallet and pulls out a ten, handing it to the little punk who's grinning like a damn fool.
I stop my approach, ready to see how this plays out, and just barely see my boy slip the money discreetly back into the older man's pocket. "Maybe you should keep it in a safer place, like your inside jacket pocket," Luke suggests, smiling at the man and tucking his hands deeply into his own pockets. "It'll be harder to lose from there, sir."
The man chuckles and does as the kid suggests. Luke's grin grows wider yet, and he waves goodbye and races over to me. "Did you see, Uncle?" he asks, hope radiating from his every pore as he virtually bounces where he stands. "He was really happy to get his wallet back!"
I narrow my eyes at the kid and chastise, "Yes, so wouldn't it have been better if you'd never taken it in the first place?" I'm starting to catch wind of his game, but this is his win, so I'll let him bask in it.
"But Uncle, that's why I had to take it! That boy," he points at the teen on the other side of the park and frowns, "took it without asking, so I had to take it from him to give it back!"
I hold my stern look for a moment longer, making the kid squirm, before letting my own smile slip onto my face. I reach down and ruffle Lucian's hair, and pick him up into a swinging hug. "In that case, kiddo, I'm proud of you." I put him down, and he giggles, taking my hand in his. "But next time, maybe tell me first and let me help."
Luke rolls his eyes. "What would you have done, Uncle? You're not sneaky like me!" He tugs me across the playground and it's my turn to roll my eyes.
If he only knew!
We pass the equipment and he keeps pulling, begging me to move faster. We round the corner and I see what has my nephew so determined. "Since I did good, Uncle, can I have ice cream?" he pleads with large, chocolatey, puppy-dog eyes.
I laugh and hand him a twenty, with instructions to treat the other kids in line too. He does an adorable little fist pump and races toward two of his friends who are standing in line with the mom that's a nurse. Erica, I think.
Yeah, yeah, Liz. Laugh it up! I get it! He's a great kid, but I wish you were here.
"Kota! Gabe! Guess what! Uncle's buying us all ice cream!"
***
