“Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome, Little One. Thank you for being so brave and letting me care for you.” I helped him off the table and slipped the jammies back on. “Okay, Cupcake. Grab your coloring book and some crayons.” For a moment, Henry just stared at me. Then he gave me a quick kiss and rushed over to one of the shelves. I watched him dig through it and smiled when he threw his fist in the air. He made me laugh, and I had to guess he found the one he wanted. With a beaming smile, he turned towards me with his prized coloring book. He took my hand and led me out to the kitchen. I helped him onto one of the stools, and Henry immediately unpacked his crayons while he smiled at me.
“I want dinosaurs for dinner,” Henry mumbled around his binky, and I raised an eyebrow.
“You need to ask nicely, Little Boy.” Henry blushed but pulled the binky out of his mouth.
“Please, Daddy, may I have dinosaurs for dinner?”
“Much better. Yes, you may.” I leaned over and kissed his head before I leaned back so he could look at me. “Do you want the smiley fries as well?”
“Can we have those tomorrow? I want some fun food tomorrow, too, please.”
“How about cheeseburger and fun fries tomorrow, then?”
“Yes, please, Daddy.”
“Then what are we having with the chicken nuggets?”
“Ketchup.”
Yeah, of course. Stupid question. Laughing, I shook my head. “No, we need to have some veggies with your nuggets. How about broccoli?” Henry scrunched up his nose in the most adorable way. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have dessert all for myself.”
“Fiiiine,” Henry huffed, and I kissed his head and turned to get dinner started. “Daddy?”
“Yes, Cupcake?”
“May I please have cheese sauce for the broccoli?”
“Of course. We can’t have broccoli without cheese sauce.” Henry smiled up at me, shoved his binky back in, then focused his attention on his coloring book. Ok, I guess Henry had dismissed me. Chuckling to myself, I started to make our dinner.
While the nuggets were in the oven and I waited for the water to boil, I turned around and watched Henry. He was sucking on his binky, softly humming, and coloring his picture. His legs were swinging back and forth happily. He looked so peaceful.
Watching him, I thought back to what Sam and Jakob had told me about Henry’s past. Or Michael Altmann. No, this was not Michael Altmann. This was my Henry, sweet, beautiful, talented, and resilient. Michael Altmann was a ghost, the kid that grew up in this compound of hatred. After hearing his story, the scars on Henry’s body horrified me. It had taken all my self-control not to show my reaction. The shock came first, and then I was torn between hurting for my Boy and anger at his damn brother.
Over the years, I had worked with a few people who’d fled religious cults, and I remember the stories they told about what it was like: the strict rules, the punishments, the brainwashing. But I could only imagine what it must have been like for a child to grow up with all the hate and the slanted world view. They taught him that there were people who were less just because they were different. It must have been so hard for him—a fourteen-year-old who knew that he was gay. Then realizing, according to those people, he had no right to live. God, what if the FBI hadn’t gotten him out?
“Daddy? Why are you looking at me so funny?” Henry's small voice pulled me out of my frightening thoughts.
“I’m sorry, Cupcake.” I blinked and concentrated on my Boy again. “I was just thinking about work.”
“Oh. Do you have a tough case?”
“Yes. Yes, but it’s okay. No more work until Monday. Just you and me for the weekend.” The lie tasted bitter, but I couldn’t tell him what was on my mind. Instead, I walked over and tilted his head up to kiss him softly. “I’m sorry, I worried you.”
“I thought…I thought I did something wrong.”
“No, no, Baby. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I glanced down at the picture he was coloring. It was cute with a rosebush and little fairies flying in and out of it. “You did an amazing job with the picture. It’s beautiful.”
“I’m not done yet.”
“Then I can’t wait to see the finished masterpiece.” Henry giggled and beamed up at me. Then he shoved the binky back in and went back to his book. For the second time tonight, I felt dismissed. I laughed to myself and put the broccoli into the boiling water.
In one of the cabinets, I found dinnerware and pulled out a plate for myself, and then I went to look for one for Henry. He had to have a unique plate when he was Little, and I only had to open one more to find them. There were colorful plates, small bowls, and sippy cups. Looking through the stack, I found a cute yellow, divided one with little dancing ducks on the rim.
On his plate, I arranged nuggets and some broccoli and looked over at Henry. He must have been watching me because he’d already put his crayons away. A wicked thought crossed my mind, and I grabbed our plates and carried them over to the table. When I walked back to grab drinks and silverware, I kissed his head and made sure that he looked at me. “Wash your hands, please, while I finish setting the table.”
“Will you help me, Daddy?”
“Of course, Cupcake.” I led him over to the sink, stepped up behind him, and took his hands in mine. I started the water and gently soaped up his hands.
