Photo Booth

Casey

″Chew,″ the boy chuckled, shaking his head at his nephew. The smaller giggled, taking an even larger bite out of his double cheeseburger on purpose. Casey smiled, ruffling the kid′s hair. ″Cheeky lil′ rascal.″

Hammy spewed ketchup onto his raincoat as he muttered, ″Uncle Casey, can we go back on the carousel－″

″Swallow,″ his uncle reminded him, unable to mask his amusement for sternness as his lips curled. Hammy blushed, swallowing the bite of beef, cheddar, mozzarella, pickles, onions and ketchup before he placed his request. ″Can we?″

″Of course,″ replied Casey, beaming at his sister′s son. ″After we′ve ridden the rollercoaster and the Ferris wheel.″

Hammy had taken another ginormous bite, but at this, the five-year-old′s lips parted to display a toothy, ketchup and pickle-coated grin that stretched from ear to ear. Casey thumbed over the boy′s pink cheek, successfully smothering the sauce the little one had gotten all over his face. ″Uncle Casey,″ he went on, in that innocent, high-pitched voice of his that the twenty-three-year-old loved.

″Yes, sweetheart?″

″Why can′t you be my dad?″

Casey blinked, stunned by the spontaneous question. ″What′s the matter, baby?″ he asked, concerned. ″Your Dad is great.″

Hammy′s pout was adorable, but it weighed on his uncle′s heart to see the little kid even wearing one. ″But he′s not you.″ Hammy shook his head. ″He never lets me ride ponies, or play with Anna′s toys. He′s always busy.″

Casey felt as though he′d been punched in the chest. ″Well, sweetie, your Dad is a busy man. He′s got a big company to run, and －″

″He needs a fish in the sea. I know,″ sighed the child, chewing another bite dejectedly, eyes not meeting those of his uncle as he sniffled.

Casey raised an eyebrow questioningly. ″A fish in the － what?″ He pondered the analogy, amused when he fitted the pieces of this puzzle together. ″You mean efficiency?″

Hammy nodded. ″That′s what I said.″

It was also what Winnie-the-Pooh said. Casey had no idea how to respond. He couldn′t very well agree with Hamilton. Fredrick was still his in-law. But Casey, of all people, knew what it was like to be denied pony-rides and girl′s toys. Over time, he′d grown not to want them, either. It made him wonder; had his father been more accepting, would he have turned out differently?

″Hey,″ he told his nephew, lifting the boy′s chin. ″What d′ya say we go grab some ice cream?″

And just like that, his frown turned upside-down. It was a beautiful thing about children—how they never held a grudge, or hosted an emotion long enough for it to ruin the moment. ″Can I get strawberry?″ Hammy pleaded, hopping off his stool and reaching out to Casey for the young man to take hold of his little hand.

″You can get three scoops,″ said Casey, whose pinky was wrapped in Hammy′s entire fist. This met with utter glee, and so the duo walked hand-in-hand out of McDonald′s and along the deck of the pier. If only, thought Casey, he really was my son.