day twenty-two
Unfinished. Was originally going to be the "cell phone plan switching" story, but the beginning got carried away with itself.
***
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"
Gideon was used to Aaron waking him up by pouncing on him on weekends, but he'd never quite experienced Mirek doing the same thing.
"Garghph," he muttered into his pillow.
"Gideon, vzbudit! Get out of bed, we're running late!" Gideon cracked open an eye. That was odd. Mirek was never late--he was up at six on the dot every morning, coffee brewing, breakfast cooking, and usually in the midst of plying Aaron from bed by the time Gideon's alarm went off.
Mirek was shoving him roughly with one hand while trying to hold up a kicking and fussing Aaron with the other arm. He looked frazzled; his hair was only half brushed and his clothes were in a disarray.
"Tat'ka, I want to watch JoJo!" Aaron wailed, and that alone was enough to signal that this was not going to be a good morning. Aaron was disturbingly well-behaved for a four-year-old boy and he only rarely raised his voice to either of his caregivers, to anyone, really.
"I told you, Aaron, we don't have time this morning," Mirek said, deeply frustrated. He took his frustration out on Gideon, shoving him harder. "Gideon, vstát právě teď!"
"I watch JoJo every day!" Aaron said. He shoved his thumb in his mouth and Gideon felt a pang of sympathy. He wanted to do the same thing himself. Mirek pulled his arm back to deliver another shove and Gideon sat up, quickly, in order to avoid it.
"I'm up, I'm up!" he insisted, and before he could do anything else, he had an armful of squirming four-year-old.
"Two minutes!" Mirek shouted. "Just two minutes mých vlastních!" He left the room and Gideon heard the bathroom door slam. He winced. Aaron was still squirming around, whining and flailing against Gideon's hold.
"Calm down, okay?" he said, stroking Aaron's hair. "We're gotta finish getting dressed and ready to go."
"Tat'ka's being mean," Aaron lisped around his thumb, his little face scrunched up into an adorable approximation of righteous indignation.
"He's just tired, buddy," Gideon said. He grabbed his watch from the beside table and squinted at the face. Ten of seven. Shit. Mirek wasn't lying when he said they were running late. Seven was usually the time he got on the subway to go to work. He sighed, resigned himself to being a few minutes late, and gathered Aaron into his arms. "Okay, kiddo, why don't we get you dressed while Tat'ka takes a moment to himself." At least, he figured that's what Mirek was doing. It was entirely possible he was requesting two minutes to gather his belongings and run away to the circus.
Aaron was either picking up on his parents' mood or was irritable for the same reasons. It took Gideon the better part of fifteen minutes to get him into the airplane sweater and jeans he picked out the night before, and by that time Mirek had returned from the bathroom looking remarkably calmer and gathered his bag, Aaron's backpack, and Gideon's school bags by the door.
***
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"
Gideon was used to Aaron waking him up by pouncing on him on weekends, but he'd never quite experienced Mirek doing the same thing.
"Garghph," he muttered into his pillow.
"Gideon, vzbudit! Get out of bed, we're running late!" Gideon cracked open an eye. That was odd. Mirek was never late--he was up at six on the dot every morning, coffee brewing, breakfast cooking, and usually in the midst of plying Aaron from bed by the time Gideon's alarm went off.
Mirek was shoving him roughly with one hand while trying to hold up a kicking and fussing Aaron with the other arm. He looked frazzled; his hair was only half brushed and his clothes were in a disarray.
"Tat'ka, I want to watch JoJo!" Aaron wailed, and that alone was enough to signal that this was not going to be a good morning. Aaron was disturbingly well-behaved for a four-year-old boy and he only rarely raised his voice to either of his caregivers, to anyone, really.
"I told you, Aaron, we don't have time this morning," Mirek said, deeply frustrated. He took his frustration out on Gideon, shoving him harder. "Gideon, vstát právě teď!"
"I watch JoJo every day!" Aaron said. He shoved his thumb in his mouth and Gideon felt a pang of sympathy. He wanted to do the same thing himself. Mirek pulled his arm back to deliver another shove and Gideon sat up, quickly, in order to avoid it.
"I'm up, I'm up!" he insisted, and before he could do anything else, he had an armful of squirming four-year-old.
"Two minutes!" Mirek shouted. "Just two minutes mých vlastních!" He left the room and Gideon heard the bathroom door slam. He winced. Aaron was still squirming around, whining and flailing against Gideon's hold.
"Calm down, okay?" he said, stroking Aaron's hair. "We're gotta finish getting dressed and ready to go."
"Tat'ka's being mean," Aaron lisped around his thumb, his little face scrunched up into an adorable approximation of righteous indignation.
"He's just tired, buddy," Gideon said. He grabbed his watch from the beside table and squinted at the face. Ten of seven. Shit. Mirek wasn't lying when he said they were running late. Seven was usually the time he got on the subway to go to work. He sighed, resigned himself to being a few minutes late, and gathered Aaron into his arms. "Okay, kiddo, why don't we get you dressed while Tat'ka takes a moment to himself." At least, he figured that's what Mirek was doing. It was entirely possible he was requesting two minutes to gather his belongings and run away to the circus.
Aaron was either picking up on his parents' mood or was irritable for the same reasons. It took Gideon the better part of fifteen minutes to get him into the airplane sweater and jeans he picked out the night before, and by that time Mirek had returned from the bathroom looking remarkably calmer and gathered his bag, Aaron's backpack, and Gideon's school bags by the door.