“I waaaannaa flyyyiyiyiyyy!”
“Oh-kay,” he said, and gritted his teeth and spun faster, one more revolution, two, and then as he came around on the third he forced his right arm up, and Todd let go of it and he let go of Todd, and he had a stutter-second view of his son in midflight, arms up and back, hair wild around his face, and then momentum spun him out of sight. Katie clutched his arm as he slowed, one rev, Todd coming to the ground, two, Todd on his back laughing, three, touchdown, Cooper’s world a little wobbly as the revolution brought Katie down to bump gently against him. When he stopped he let go of her arm but kept close, waited for her to catch her balance, the endless parental quest to make sure his baby girl didn’t fall and crack her skull, didn’t run into sharp things, didn’t feel the rough edges of the world.
What if she’s tier one? They’ll take her from us. Send her to an academy…
Cooper shook his head and straightened his smile. He bent down, elbows to knees. His daughter stared at him with solemn eyes. His son lay on his back on the ground. “Toddster? You good?”
His son’s arm shot skyward, thumb up. Cooper smiled. He glanced up at Natalie, saw her look, the happiness a veneer on the fear. She caught him, touched her hair again, said, “We were about to eat. Have you?”
“Nope,” he lied. “Whatcha say, guys? Breakfast? Some of Mom’s famous brontosaurus eggs?”
“Dad.” Todd scrambled up and brushed grass off his pants legs. “They’re just regular eggs.”
Cooper started on the old routine—You ever seen brontosaurus eggs? No? Then how…and found he couldn’t do it. “You’re right, buddy. How about some regular eggs?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He gave Natalie a look no one else would have noticed. “Help your mom get started, would you? I’ll be right in.”
His ex reached down and took her son’s hand. “Come on, flyboy. Let’s make breakfast.”
Todd looked briefly baffled but followed Natalie as she led him inside. Cooper turned back to Kate, said, “You want to fly again?”
She shook her head.
“Phew. You’re getting so big, pretty soon you’re going to be doing that to me.” His shoelace had come undone, and he knotted it quickly.
Kate said, “Daddy? Why is Mommy scared of me?”
“What? What do you mean, honey?”
“She looks at me, and she’s scared.”
Cooper stared at his daughter. Her brother had been a restless baby, and many, many times Cooper had spent the ghostly hours of night rocking his son, soothing him, talking to him. Often he wouldn’t want to move once Todd had finally fallen asleep, certain that any shift, no matter how gentle, might wake his infant boy. And so he had played a game with himself, looking at his son’s thick dark hair—now faded to sandy brown—and the broad forehead and lips that looked like they’d been taken directly off Natalie’s face, and the ears that belonged to Cooper’s grandfather, big outward-facing things, and he had tried to find himself there. Other people said they could see it, but he never really could, at least not until Todd got older, started making expressions identical to his own.
Kate, though. He’d seen himself in his daughter since the day she’d arrived. And not just in her features. It was in the way she held herself, the way she observed things. It’s like the world is a system, he’d said to Natalie, years ago, and she’s trying to break it but knows she doesn’t have all the data yet. Kate had mostly been calm, but when she wanted something, boob or bed or fresh diaper, she had made it goddamn clear.
“What makes you think she’s scared, baby?”
“Her eyes are bigger. And her skin is more white. It looks like she’s crying but she’s not crying.”
Cooper put a hand on—
Dilated pupils.
Blood diverted from the skin to the muscles to facilitate fight-or-flight.
Enhanced tone in the orbicularis oculi.