Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Ever? In five years?”
Her gaze hardens.
“You think I can afford a vacation and childcare? Cute.” She sighs, her lips pulling into a sad smile. “I’ve lived a very different life from you, Patton Rory. Down here at ground level, people are scraping by.”
Fair enough.
I forget that this lifestyle is new to her when she slides into it so seamlessly. It’s easy to forget this is just a fleeting break from reality.
Not the way our lives will be from now on, even if there’s no shortage of luxuries I suddenly have a mad urge to shower her with.
“You should call him,” I urge. “It’s still early enough. Say good night to your boy.”
“Over dinner?” Her eyebrows sweep up.
“It’ll be too late by the time we get back.” I run my fingers along the rim of my wineglass. “Plus, I’ve got other plans for you back in our room.”
She flushes and glances at her phone.
“Arlo would definitely interrupt that,” she murmurs. “The kissing was bad enough. I almost died when he walked in. Do you think anyone here would mind?”
I nod at a rowdy bunch in a corner, clanking micheladas in tall beer glasses together.
From the looks of it, they’re celebrating a birthday.
“Lady Bug, if they’re in here bellowing like drunken rhinos, you can call your son.”
“Come over here. We’ll do a FaceTime,” she says, beckoning me to her side. “He might as well see you too.”
I shuffle over and after a few seconds, she video calls Mrs. Gabbard.
“Hello, hello!” a grey-haired lady says cheerfully. “I wasn’t expecting you to call, dear. How are things?”
“Lovely, Mrs. Gabbard. I just wanted to see if Arlo wants to say hello, if he’s still up?”
“Well, he’s not in bed yet, that’s for sure.” The corners of her mouth pinch down as she walks through her apartment, carrying the phone. “Here he is, just wrapping up brushing his teeth. Look here, you rascal, someone wants to say hi.”
The camera swivels to face Arlo, who’s wearing Batman pajamas.
“Mommy?” He grabs the phone with a wide smile. “Mommy!”
“Hey, honey.” Salem’s smile is hardly any smaller. It’s endearing how she looks at him. “How are you? Are you being good for Mrs. Gabbard?”
“Very good. I’m the best!” he proclaims. A suspicious claim if Mrs. Gabbard’s heavy sigh is any indication. “I drew so much today, Mommy. I wanna show you.”
“Wow, sure. But just a few, hon. It’s late.”
He takes the phone, nodding vigorously at Mrs. Gabbard’s encouragement not to drop it, and leads us to the corner of the room and his little desk, stacked with fresh sketches.
“Look!” he commands, though his poor camera-ship means we can’t see more than a few blurred lines. “I drew you, Mommy. You’re driving your car.”
“I do a lot of that. Great job,” Salem gushes, though I know she can’t see it any better than I can.
“Oh, and I drew Mr. Rory, too.” Arlo holds up another sheet of paper that seems almost entirely white besides a few rolling lines. “He’s a snowman.”
Kid logic, you have to love it.
I’ll admit my snowman likeness looks better than the other drawings he’s come up with. Salem laughs and sends me a look that says she’s thinking the same thing.
“How was the museum?” she asks.
“Awesome! They had a silver T-rex. I practiced shooting it till Mrs. Gabbard made me stop. Then we went out for food and it was so cold.” He mimes his teeth chattering.
Kid’s cute, even if he’s a royal pain in the ass.
“I’ll bet. We’re lucky here, it’s really warm,” Salem says. “Isn’t it, Patton?”
“Comfortably.”
“There’s no snow?” Arlo asks, a little awestruck.
“None,” Salem says. “It’s sunny. I wore my long sleeves outside today just to keep my arms safe from getting burned.”
“Wow, like summer! In winter?” He loses interest in the weather and abruptly holds up a book. “I read this today.”
“What is it, sweetie?”
“My Inky book! He went all the way to India and he even met an elephant! I’m gonna write him a letter. You were right, Mom, he’s the coolest penguin ever.”
I can’t resist smiling as I cut in. “You know, if you’re lucky, sometimes Inky writes you back. I still have a letter from him floating around somewhere.”
I don’t tell them my mother framed said letter and I left it proudly hanging above my childhood bed until I moved out.
Of course, it’s not really a magic penguin writing kids back and helping them make friends. Until recently, it was the author and creator, Clara Marshall. I read an article that says her nephew and his wife are doing great things for reviving the brand, ensuring the famous pen pal penguin lives on for kids like Arlo.
“Tell him where you’d love to go. I’m sure he’ll write you back, Arlo,” she says with a laugh. She shakes her head. “When we get home, you’ll show me everything, okay?”