“All right. See you in a few.”
This will be the first time Ryker meets my boys. He’s seen pictures, and over the last three weeks has asked me more about their personalities in preparation for this day, but now that it’s finally here, I’m nervous. This is “Mom Natalie” and “Farmer Ryker” in their grown-up lives.
I swallow hard as his farm comes into view. The snow is several inches thick, but the massive barn has a large patch cleared in front of it for us to park.
“Yay, the farm!” Ollie cheers, throwing his hands into the air.
“Look at the tractor!” Max adds.
Putting the car in park, I unbuckle and turn around to address them.
“Boys,” I say and sign, “this is Mommy’s friend Ryker’s farm. He wants to show you how plants grow into vegetables that we eat. Make sure you don’t touch anything unless he tells you it’s okay. Got it?”
They nod in such a way that proves they intend to touch absolutely everything.
“Hey Natalie!” Ryker bounds from behind the barn doors and jogs toward the car as I let the boys out. He’s wearing dark Carhartt pants and a heavy winter coat.
“Hi.” I wave and turn to face the boys. “Boys, this is Mommy’s friend Ryker, can you say hi?”
“Hi,” they say in unison.
I look back at Ryker. “So, out of habit, I’ll just sign any time I’m talking with you.” He nods with a grin as I point to Max and sign, “This is Max, and—”
I’m cut short when Ryker crouches down in front of Ollie. He takes off his gloves, seems take a nervous breath, and he . . . he starts signing. “You must be Oliver, nice to meet you.” Ryker extends his hand to Ollie first, then to Max. They each shake his hand before turning back toward me.
“Ryker, I didn’t know you knew sign language.” I shake my head in confusion.
“Well,” he starts again, his hands slightly shaking as he talks and signs, “I couldn’t be the only one who didn’t know what was going on, could I?” He looks to the boys, who laugh as my eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know all the signs though, guys, so you and your mom might have to help me a little, okay?”
“When did you learn sign language?” I ask as we walk inside the barn.
As we let the boys explore the nooks and crannies of the barn, Ryker shrugs and digs his hands into his pockets. “Last summer, when I asked if you wanted to bring the boys to the farm, I figured I should learn at least a few things. It’s gotta be tough for him. Anyway, I started looking things up online.” His eyes meet mine and the frigid weather suddenly doesn’t matter.
“Ryker . . .” I want to hug him, to grab his hand, to tell him that what he’s done is beyond kind. But, I don’t really want to get into confusing the boys right at the moment, so I settle for a quiet, “Thank you.”
The rest of the afternoon leaves me feeling like an observer. Ryker seems to have prepared what he was going to say for who knows how long, because his signs are near-perfect. A few mess-ups leave the boys giggling and asking me for help. I help where I can, and we rely on Ollie’s lip reading skills for the rest. Ollie seems thrilled not to have to stare at me or Max for the whole day, as he’s able to interact with someone new.
After the tour is done, and the boys have their seed cups to take home—with strict care instructions—they get in the car after saying thank you to Ryker.
“Thank you, Ryker.” I say once the boys are buckled in. “Not just for the tour for them, but . . . for Ollie.” I shrug as I feel teary-eyed.
“Hey, no problem, Nat.” He smiles and places a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s do it again soon, okay? They’re a blast.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll call you.”
For the entire drive to Eric’s place, Max and Ollie engage in loud conversation about whose squash will grow bigger and how they want to live at a farm when they grow up. My focus keeps drifting back to the look on Ollie’s face when Ryker met him eye-level and started speaking his language. It was like he was staring at a super hero, and I find myself hoping that one day they learn that he really kind of is.
The drop-off at Eric’s is a bit quieter than usual. The divorce was finalized two weeks ago, and it seems Eric’s just starting to process the whole thing. The boys carry in their seed cups and start talking about the farm. Eric knew I was taking them there; I was open about my plans.
“They look like they had a good time,” Eric says coolly as he watches the boys.
“They did.”
Eric looks at me for a few seconds before looking down and walking toward the boys in the kitchen.
“See you guys later.” I force a smile and get my ass out of there before things reach a new level of awkward.
Getting in the car, I call Tosha.
“Hey you,” she chirps.