Favorite Time of Day
The bells on the door jostle each other softly as Isabel pushes it firmly closed and snaps the lock. The streetlights are just coming up, orange glow silhouetting the fire escape on the building across the street. Empty sidewalks, empty streets, it's almost as if she's the only person in the world.
Until a small toy truck slams into her heel.
"Stowytime, Annie Isbew!"
And she smiles, because what else can she do? Until a few weeks ago, Isabel would have said she didn't really like children. Liked the thought of them, the idea, but not really the real thing. They were loud and messy and in need of constant entertainment. And boys were the worst--they liked things like worms and mice and mud pies. Isabel had always smiled and laughed because she thought it was expected, and then gone home and taken showers and naps.
But now there's Noah. Max's son. Her nephew. And he's...adorable. Lovable, even. It's a bit of a shock.
"Alright, kid." She ruffles his hair. "What are we reading?"
He holds up book covered in brightly-colored fish. Isabel laughs.
"Dr. Seuss it is."
She shoves the book down the back of her jeans and takes Noah's hands and jumps him up the stairs from the shop to the bedroom in the back. They change into his pajamas with the feet, and she settles him into bed with his stuffed animals and his GI Joe action figures poking into her side. Isabel opens the book, then closes it and goes to get him a small glass of milk. She even laughs when he blows bubbles in it.
"Ready?"
"Weady!"
She's smiling again. How does that keep happening?
"From there to here,
from here to there,
funny things
are everywhere.
One fish
Two fish
Red fish
Blue fish..."
He's already asleep. She closes the book, kisses the top of his head, and shuts off the light as she leaves the room.
Until a small toy truck slams into her heel.
"Stowytime, Annie Isbew!"
And she smiles, because what else can she do? Until a few weeks ago, Isabel would have said she didn't really like children. Liked the thought of them, the idea, but not really the real thing. They were loud and messy and in need of constant entertainment. And boys were the worst--they liked things like worms and mice and mud pies. Isabel had always smiled and laughed because she thought it was expected, and then gone home and taken showers and naps.
But now there's Noah. Max's son. Her nephew. And he's...adorable. Lovable, even. It's a bit of a shock.
"Alright, kid." She ruffles his hair. "What are we reading?"
He holds up book covered in brightly-colored fish. Isabel laughs.
"Dr. Seuss it is."
She shoves the book down the back of her jeans and takes Noah's hands and jumps him up the stairs from the shop to the bedroom in the back. They change into his pajamas with the feet, and she settles him into bed with his stuffed animals and his GI Joe action figures poking into her side. Isabel opens the book, then closes it and goes to get him a small glass of milk. She even laughs when he blows bubbles in it.
"Ready?"
"Weady!"
She's smiling again. How does that keep happening?
"From there to here,
from here to there,
funny things
are everywhere.
One fish
Two fish
Red fish
Blue fish..."
He's already asleep. She closes the book, kisses the top of his head, and shuts off the light as she leaves the room.