“Marcellus, cease this behavior.” I am disinterested.
“I could attend to you and Braylon,” he says, his finger brushing across my arm, causing me to quiver in irritation. “If you permit me. Do you not desire Braylon to have a father?”
I secure my hold on the bicycle handlebars. I required no assistance. Braylon and I were perfectly capable independently. Bray did not require a father; he had me.
“I apologise, Marcellus, but I must depart,” I state, manoeuvring around him and mounting the bicycle.
Will you consider it at the very least?”He yells as I ride away, and I do not reply.”
Oh Ricky… I ponder to myself. What predicament have you entangled yourself in?
I set aside my thoughts of Marcellus and attempt to determine how to manage Braylon throughout my shift at The Halitton.
The only individuals I am acquainted with are Ruben and Priscilla. Does Priscilla have employment this evening? I cannot recall.
I arrive at the nursery to find the parking lot entirely vacant. I berate Mrs Freedman, my final patient, for her incessant chatter throughout her appointment, and hurry into the building.
I observe through the expansive glass window into the classroom, where my son diligently engages with a colouring book, his small red backpack already slung over his shoulders. My heart momentarily races as I watch him colour, his brow furrowed in focus and his brown curls cascading over his forehead. Noticing my gaze, Bray looks up and beams with enthusiasm, closing his book and leaping from his seat.
I hastily enter the classroom and kneel, extending my arms to embrace him. He crashes into me, almost unbalancing me as he lavishes me with kisses.
“Mother, what are you doing here?” He chuckles with enthusiasm. “Where is Aunt Tiana?”
I gently sweep his curls aside and gaze into his striking large eyes. They are distinctive, one a stunning cerulean and the other a rich chocolate adorned with swirls of brown and amber. Heterochromia is relatively rare, and Bray’s eyes captivated the community upon his birth. He was the beloved boy with blue and brown eyes.
I perceive footsteps behind me and offer an apologetic grin to the scowling teacher.
“I sincerely apologise, Mrs. Cleo. I had a patient today from whom I could not extricate myself!” I laugh awkwardly.
Mrs. Cleo exhales deeply. “You are quite fortunate, Ms. Erin…,” she states with gravity before her smile betrays her. “That Mr. Erin,” she remarks, raising her eyebrows at Braylon, “is a pleasure to have nearby and understands how to engage a lady’s company.”
Braylon beams with pride as I elevate him into my embrace.
“I greatly appreciate your care for him, Mrs. Cleo,” I said with a grin.
“Pleasure,” she responds with a smile as I face the door. “And Ricky?” she enquires.
I direct my attention to her once again. “Yes?”
“Being a single mother is a challenging endeavour. You are performing exceptionally well,” she states. “Do not overlook that.”
I shut my eyes to contain my emotions. My greatest worry was to disappoint Bray. He merited everything, yet at times, I felt inadequate in providing for him.
“Thank you,” I murmur, using my foot to open the door.
I transport Braylon to the bike racks, suppressing my emotions and donning a grin for my son. He should not witness his mother in distress.
“Mother, where is Aunt Tiana?” Bray enquires as I place him in the child carrier.
“My beloved is away on a journey,” I respond, fastening his helmet. “This signifies that it is solely you and me for the next few days.”
He offers a mischievous smile. “May we have chicken nuggets for dinner?”
I smile at him while retrieving my phone to call Priscilla. “Perhaps,” I say with a grin.
“Hello?” Priscilla’s voice transmits.
“Hello, Priscilla, this is Ricky,” I exhale, hoping fervently that she is not occupied this evening. “Could you possibly supervise Bray tonight? Nellie is away, and I require a caregiver.”
“I am not an infant!” Braylon exclaims from his seat.
“Indeed, I require a diminutive caretaker,” I chuckle. “Do you believe you could…”
“Certainly!” she responds. “I am free tonight regardless. You are aware that I adore that boy immensely!”
Oh, bless the deities!
We finalise our plans, and I mount the bicycle as Bray extends his arms to experience the wind rushing by us.
Following a brief ride to the periphery of Liberty Bay, I arrive at the home. I load Bray’s belongings into his backpack and change from my scrubs into an all-black ensemble. I would don my uniform upon arrival to the club, since I had no intention of cycling in a skirt.
Bray rushes into the living room, his helmet positioned incorrectly.
“Mother, observe! I accomplished it independently,” he beams with pride.
I cannot suppress my laughter as I unfasten his helmet and adjust it correctly.
