Worth the Trouble ✓

37 | knowledge field

AT THE END OF THE second outing I had with Suki and Cassie, Walter was waiting for us when we got back to the house.

I've seen pictures of him on Suki's social media, but in person he seems so much like a person playing a stereotype that I can't take him seriously. Glasses, an open button-up shirt on top of another button-up shirt, a stocky man walks out of the dim hallway leading to the bedrooms and stops against the threshold.

He leans against the wood and crossed one foot in front of the other. My eyes immediately notice the heavy Timberlands on his feet, blades of grass and soil crunched into the treads.

"How was your day, hon?" Hon.

Suki smiles at Walter, her face red from walking around all day. It won't be sunburn because she's militaristic about applying sunscreen. "It was so good. The perfect temperature for going to the top of the ferries. Terrence, Walter, Walter, Terrence."

"Can you unclip me, Terrence?" Sukis is holding Cassie, hands full, who is sleepy from the sun and the activity.

I ignore the way Walter jolted, hearing the first four words, already primed to walk over and aid his damsel.

There is no other word for this backpack than contraption, with pouches and hundreds of zippers and the ability to transform into a baby carrier to keep Cassie strapped to Suki's front. My hands brush Suki's arms when I release the latches on either side of her, peeling it off her back and leaving it by the coat rack.

"I'm going to wash Cass' hands and set her down," she tells us. "Play nice."

Walter and I both watch in silence as Suki holds Cassie up by the stomach in one hand, turning on the kitchen faucet and rubbing her little hands down with soap with the other.

Only two days I've had, and I already think she is the smartest, sweetest thing I've ever met. Clearly, I'm biased. She, aged two and a bit, says short, honest things. I'm hungry. It's hot. I'm hot. Where's the boat going? I made the mistake of calling her easy-going and Suki said that a book smart mother and a street smart father make hurricanes for children. On the ferry back, she leaned over and said, "She's only behaving so well because she's in the presence of a stranger." That hurt a bit, though it's true.

When Suki walks to the bedroom, Walter asks me, "So, are you heading off soon?"

"Um, no. I was going to cook dinner and spend some time with Cassie in the evening, given that I haven't exactly been around. Suki said it was okay."

"Sure, sure, yeah. Of course it's okay."

I don't like the implication that Walter's permission is the one that I should be asking for. Once Cassie is napping, Walter opens a bag of chips and a carton of hummus for us. He puts the food on the coffee table and takes the couch space on the other side of Suki, stretching his arm along the back around her.

"Are you staying for dinner?" I ask Walter.

"No. Not that I know of." His forehead crinkles. "So what do you do?"

I want to meet her eyes, but I'm supposed to be mature now. Very responsible and accommodating. I know how the situation must look: knocking up my high school girlfriend and abandoning her to raise the kid alone. Play nice.

Suki first told me about Walter back in April. He is apparently the uncle of one of Cassie's daycare classmates, and when he saw Suki he felt compelled to ask for her number. By then, we had both moved on. I'd slept with other girls. Suki had dated one other person—a volunteer at the flight museum where she works. So Walter is not a problem, because I'm not here to get Suki back.