“I thought it was just some fun you two were having.”
He shrugged again. “When I was little, my mom didn’t let me leave my bedroom. I was so bored in there. I had so many toys, but no one to play with. KP played with me some and there was always a nanny, but it was boring, the same old four walls. I started asking KP to go get me stuff from the yard so I could see it. I mean, I could go out there, to the yard, but it was so fast, they never let me stay out there, just wanted me back in my room again. There were always people. Mom didn’t want me being around people.” His expression was matter of fact; this was his reality.
“That’s terrible, Wenton.” I couldn’t believe that a mother would do that.
“Yeah, but I got used to it. KP would bring me leaves at first. They were so cool to look at, all crispy and full of veins. He’d bring rocks and the dog’s chew toys. All of that was fun, but it got a little boring too, so I started telling him what I wanted to see. Like a frog or a turtle. I always made him take them back after. When he was in college, and we had cell phones, I asked for other stuff…” He blushed and ducked his head. “Like, show me a naked girl.”
My mouth dropped open. “Oh my god, did he do it?”
“Of course he did.” Wenton smiled devilishly.
I was playfully appalled. “Shut up.”
“I even fell in love with one of them, she’s my girlfriend.” Wenton puffed up with pride.
“Wait, you have a girlfriend?” I wasn’t sure he was telling the truth, and if he was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about it.
“Yah, her name is Misty. Wanna see her?” He rummaged in his back pocket for his phone.
“Um, is she wearing clothes?” I wasn’t up for smut this early in the morning.
He laughed hard, slapping his thigh. “Of course.”
Oh god, a girl with the name Misty. KP must have gotten him a stripper, and maybe she texted him or something. All of a sudden, I felt a little sick. Even though Wenton was old enough, it just seemed wrong. He seemed like such a child.
But, when he finally found the picture, my heart oozed. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. She was a woman, probably a little younger than Wenton, but she had the same wide smile, the same drooping eyes, the same infectious expression of happiness. KP had found Wenton another girl with Williams Syndrome.
“Do you ever get a chance to see her?” I wondered.
“We send each other texts and we Skype every week. I can’t see her, she’s in Maine.” His eyes dropped a little.
“I bet KP would take you to her.” I wondered why he hadn’t already.
“She’s my girl, and we see each other every week. I don’t have to go to Maine.” And that was the end of that.
I smiled. “Okay, if you’re good with it.”
“I am. I want KP to have a girlfriend too,” he said sweetly.
“Oh, Wenton, I think he has loads.” I was trying not to be sarcastic.
Wenton scoffed. “No, not those girls.”
“Well, then who?” I probably shouldn’t have asked that.
“His next hunt is to fall in love.” Wenton smiled so big, I could have sworn I saw stars in his eyes.
“That’s a pretty tough one,” I cautioned him.
“He can do it. He has to.” He looked at me dead on.
I was saved from a response when KP joined us. Thank god, the conversation was getting a little sticky.
“Oh good, you got some macaroni salad,” he said, eying my plate.
“I did,” I said, giving him a wide-eyed look.
The families were getting a little more rambunctious with the karaoke machine, and it was so loud that we could hardly hear ourselves talk.
“Why don’t we make our way down to the lake,” KP suggested.
“Oh goody,” Wenton cheered, “yeah, they have boat races today!”
We slowly strolled down the hill through the grass to the small lake on the property. KP explained that it was a man-made lake just for the patients at the facility. Wenton loved it because it reminded him of home.
On the lake were large inflatable paddleboats. Each one was manned with a kindly looking staff member who wielded an oar. Behind them sat a patient or a patient and their guests. Two or more boats would “race” one another to the other side of the shore, then race each other back. People looked like they were having fun. I think Wenton wanted to try.
“We can win,” Wenton said, enthusiastically.
“Of course we can,” KP agreed.
KP walked over to the person in charge of the races and had a brief conversation with them. When he returned, he took off his coat and handed it to me, rolling up his sleeves.
“Do you mind holding this?” The way he looked at me caused my stomach to twist.
“You bet.”
God, he looked good in his shirt sleeves. His arms were so lean and strong. They were also slightly tanned, giving him a golden glow. Wenton, seeing his brother take off his jacket, struggled to get out of his windbreaker. It was a little heartbreaking to see the difference in the brothers. Wenton was pale and thin compared to KP, who was like a Greek statue. But I was sure Wenton could care less about the difference.
KP plastered a competitive grin on his face as he helped Wenton get into the boat. As soon as they were both aboard, I gave them a wave. Wenton flapped his hands back and forth and KP saluted. At the whistle, their boat flew across the water. KP effortlessly rowed them to victory.
When they reached the other side, clear winners, Wenton stood up and started jumping up and down on the boat, much to KP’s horror. He was able to keep the boat stable and got Wenton calmed down. When Wenton was seated again, KP rowed them back across and they both won a ribbon. Wenton was so proud of himself and KP looked happy as they shook hands with the losers. Actually, Wenton hugged the losers.
Before they returned, KP spoke with a staff member and pointed to boats that were not being used. The conversation consisted of a lot of head shaking, but that man was persistent, and soon after his conversation ended, he had waved to us to come join him.
“We can have this boat. I thought we would do a little boating and have a picnic on the other side.” He seemed very excited by the idea.
I was too. The thought of going back to the karaoke bonanza was almost scary. Within a few minutes, as we were pulling the boat off the shore and into the water, one of Wenton’s staff members had brought us a cooler.
“Here, Mr. Preston,” he said as he walked over. “We’ve prepared three lunches.”
He was very stiff and formal, actually uncomfortably so. He was probably much more accustomed to nursing than waiting tables. KP was jovial and friendly as he accepted the cooler and helped us load it and ourselves into the boat.
“I wanna row this time,” Wenton volunteered.