Young Truths (Young Series) (8 page)

Annoyance abates and is quickly replaced by suspicion and amusement. “What do you have against circuses?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he responds too quickly, pushing himself away from me for the first time in over an hour. “They’re just boring and repetitive. And you know the trainers don’t treat those animals very well. How these people are allowed to care for elephants and lions is beyond me...”

“Okay, now I know you’re full of shit,” I accuse. “I know this has nothing to do with the treatment of animals. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of clowns.” I laugh at the absurdity until I realize Matthew hasn’t denied anything and is currently staring at me with a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and annoyance. “Oh my God! You’re afraid of clowns!”

“I am not!” he retorts defensively. “Don’t be ridiculous, Samantha!”

My sides hurt from laughing so hard. “I don’t think I am,” I choke out. “Matthew Young, afraid of clowns! Oh, I’m telling everybody.”

He’s glaring at me now and I’m not sure there’s anything playful in his expression like there would be normally. “Are you done laughing at me?” he asks crossly.

A few minutes pass before I’m able to respond since every time I try, I look at him and promptly start laughing again. “Yes, I’m sorry,” I say, still snickering heavily. “I think I’m done.”

He rolls his eyes at me.

“How did I never know this?” I ask. “And why the hell are you afraid of clowns?”

“There’s never been occasion to mention it and it’s not something I’m particularly eager to share with people,” he informs me stiffly. “As for why... I don’t know. I just am.”

“But clowns are wonderful, Matt! They’re happy and make people laugh...”

“And evil and will eat your children,” he adds. “Seriously, what’s with the painted on smiles? What are they hiding under that makeup? With most people, you can look at them and tell if and when they’re about to kill you slowly and painfully; with clowns, it’s all hidden by that stupid smile and they try to gain your trust, and the moment you turn your back, BAM! You’re clown food.”

I’m trying very hard not to laugh at him again. “And when was the last time you met an evil clown, exactly?”

“They’re everywhere, Sam,” he says dismissively. “So can we please try talking Tyler into something aside from the circus for his birthday?”

He gives me a puppy dog look that would normally turn me into a puddle. Now, though, it’s just funny. “You can try,” I tell him, “but don’t count on him changing his mind. Kid loves the circus. When he was four, he decided he wanted to runaway and join one—I think he wanted to become a clown, actually...”

The look of horror on my husband’s face is priceless and I desperately wish I had my camera. “You’re kidding?” he pleads in a whisper.

I bite my lip and shake my head. “He was four. Saw it in a movie or something. That lasted a week before he decided he wanted to be something called a Time Lord and fly around space in a box. Still don’t really get it, but I think that was Lily’s influence.”

Matthew’s eyebrows are rising high. “Okay, then...” he says. “And so we’re clear, I am not above bribery to get him to change his mind about this.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised by that...” I mutter, rubbing my belly. Our daughter is becoming active and I think she’s testing out her aptitude for gymnastics. Or maybe karate. Matthew sees me wince when Olivia kicks my bladder and is immediately beside me again to press his hands against my belly, attempting to feel the movement. I watch happily as his expression turns to awe; this never gets old for him.

“Can we drop the subject of clowns?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. “Or do I need take further action?”

“What action might that be?”

He only looks at me, smirking.

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Yes, we can drop the subject. For now.”

“Good,” he says softly, moving to lie down beside me and leaning in to kiss me. “I’d rather do this anyway...”

I grin. “Me, too...”

After one of the laziest days I’ve ever had in my life, I’m on my way to pick up my son. Samantha fell asleep after lunch and rather than waking her when I couldn’t find my car keys, I left her to her rest and just took hers. Though I’m still getting used to family life, I revel in the mundane activities like picking up my son or going to the grocery store and buying things from aisles that aren’t the freezer section. I’ve had my moments of uncertainty when I wonder whether I’m doing a good job as a father and while Samantha is always the first one to assure me I’m doing great, I still don’t really know. Having a six, almost seven-year-old isn’t as easy as I thought it would be; though Tyler has, for the most part, grown out of the tantrum phase of his life, he still has his moments, and I’d be lying if I said he hasn’t strained my patience to the point of wanting to pull my hair out.

He’s a great kid, though; Samantha has done an incredible job with him. I refuse to even consider the fact that Tom Saunders probably also had a hand in raising him, as that just tends to piss me off. Tyler is so smart and sweet and funny, and every time I look at him, I see myself at his age. I can’t wait to see which of us our daughter most resembles, though I do hope she’s Samantha’s carbon copy. Having two miniature versions of us running around the house is an amazing image; I wonder if we’ll have more children after Olivia, though I’m not sure Samantha is eager to discuss that right now.

I get out of the car as the doors to the school open and lean against it so Tyler can see me when he comes out. Several other parents are grouped around doing the same thing, so I’m not entirely sure why my attention is pulled towards a black SUV slowly passing by. It takes me a moment to recall my wife’s concerns at being followed and by the time I turn to get a better look, it’s gone. Shaking myself, I decide I’m imagining things. Even if I did see an SUV, it’s entirely likely to belong to the parent of a student.

“Hi, Dad!”

I turn back and find Tyler running towards me, a huge grin on his face that matches the one on mine at hearing him call me Dad. It’s something I hope will never get old for me “Hey,” I say, picking him up to give him a hug. I wonder how long it will be before he decides PDA is embarrassing; if memory serves, I was around eight or nine when I began to refuse to even acknowledge my parents in public. Not that that ever stopped my mom from trying to humiliate me at every turn... “How was school?

“It was good,” he says, handing me his backpack and climbing into the backseat. “I beat everyone at running and got a hundred on my spelling test.”

“Good job!” I say proudly, mussing his hair. I close the door and move around to the driver’s seat, glancing around once to search for the SUV I think I saw. “I think that deserves some sort of reward, don’t you? Ice cream?”

Tyler beams. “Mom says I have to wait until after dinner, though,” he responds.

I smirk. “Mom’s not here, is she?” I ask slyly. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“Okay,” he says happily.

As we drive towards the town square, I decided this is the perfect time to broach the subject of alternate birthday activities with my son. “We could go to that new game center. They’ve got all sorts of videogames and ice cream and pizza... What do you think?”

I glance in the rearview mirror to find Tyler actually thinking about my suggestion for a moment and for that moment I think I’m off the hook for the circus. “Nope. I wanna see the circus,” he declares firmly.

Dammit...
I suppose I could get out of it by claiming that I have to work late that day and regrettably, I can’t join them at the circus, but I know that won’t happen. I’ve missed Tyler’s last five birthdays and I’m not missing another one. I’ll just have to suck it up for an afternoon and pray I don’t embarrass myself by screaming like a little girl at the first sight of a clown...

We pull into the parking lot of the ice cream parlor and as I open the door for Tyler, I glance around, wondering if I’m again imagining a sighting of the black SUV. When I left the house, I told the security team I’d be fine and they should stay behind and keep an eye on things there. Now I’m wondering if that was a mistake. If it was, I need to be aware; nothing will happen to my son on my watch. I briefly consider calling the house to check in, make sure Samantha is okay, but all things considered, I actually trust this security team to keep her safe. Marcus has personally vouched for each of them and right now the only person I trust more than him is my wife.

“Matthew!” We look up to find Mayor Don Green standing behind the counter, beaming at us. He’s the typical small town mayor and business owner. Short, round, nearly completely bald, and always jovial. I’ve always liked him and I know he’s rather fond of me—though that might be because anytime the town needs funding for something, I typically don’t hesitate to help out. “This is a surprise. And hello, Tyler!”

Tyler slides behind me shyly, which amuses me, since he’s one of the most outgoing little boys I’ve ever met. “Afternoon, Mayor,” I reply, lifting Tyler up onto a stool in front of the ice cream bar before sitting beside him. “What’s the special today?”

“Ice cream cupcake,” he says proudly. “Cup of chocolate fudge topped with a scoop of vanilla and strawberry banana, covered with hot fudge, whip cream, sprinkles, and a cherry.”

I make an impressed face, already feeling my teeth rot at the thought of all that sugar. “What do you think, bud?” I ask Tyler. His eyes light up and he starts bouncing in place. I chuckle. “I think that means we’ll have two of those.”

“Coming right up,” Mayor Green says happily.

While we wait, Tyler and I talk about cartoons and what he wants for his birthday and who he’s going to invite to his party. Apparently there’s some little girl in his class he seems to really like, but he’s nervous about inviting her. I shake my head, wondering if it’s too early for him to be interested in girls. I think at his age I was still convinced girls had cooties, were highly contagious, and were to be avoided at all costs. I guess it’s different for all kids. I’m starting to understand that phrase about children growing up too quickly...

Tyler watches avidly as Mayor Green puts the finishing touches on our ice creams and I again glance outside, feeling my entire body turning into unease. Now I know I’m not imagining a black SUV creeping down the street past the ice cream shop. I can’t make out who’s in the driver’s seat and honestly, their identity doesn’t matter right at this second; this person has been following my wife around, making her feel unsafe, and now they’re following me and my son.

“Mayor,” I say, standing up. “Can you keep an eye on Tyler for a second?”

Don looks up in surprise, probably at my tone of voice, and immediately agrees. “Of course, Matt. Everything okay?”

I nod, smiling for Tyler’s benefit. “Oh yeah, just need to check something in the car,” I say dismissively. “Tyler, stay here for a few minutes, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Tyler looks up at me questioningly and I understand what Samantha is always talking about when she says Tyler is too smart and aware of other people’s moods than most adults, let alone children. I give him a reassuring smile and ruffle his hair a bit.

“Mind if I use the backdoor?” I ask Don.

Though he’s looking at me in suspicion, wondering what it is I’m involving him in, he nods. “Of course, Matt,” he says quietly.

“Thanks,” I say, already heading towards the backroom. I push open the door and slip into the alley behind the shop, walking towards the front of the building. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do if I see the SUV again; it’s probably not a good idea for me to confront the driver alone, especially when my son is sitting inside an ice cream shop. The least I can do is try and get a look at the car, maybe a license plate. Of course, chances are high the vehicle might have decided to take off for the time being and I’m wasting my time, but if I’m not, this could be my opportunity to figure out what the hell is going on.

At the end of the alleyway, I slowly and carefully poke my head around the corner, and to my surprise, the SUV is creeping along the street. I wait until it’s closer before stepping out, my cell phone in hand and ready. Unfortunately, the tint on the windows is too dark to make out any real details of who is inside, though I can faintly make out the shape of a person. It pulls up closer and stops for about half a second, then speeds off down the street as quickly as it can. But not before I get a nice view of the license plate and snap a couple pictures.

So this person isn’t looking for confrontation. They’re a lookout, scouting the area, following us to get an idea of our habits. Or maybe they just don’t want to deal with me. For all I know, the second they have a chance, they’ll try hurting Samantha.

This thought snaps me out of my daze and I ignore the questioning glances I’m getting from a few of the townspeople in favor of getting back to my son. We need to get home; I’m suddenly desperate to see Samantha, make sure she’s safe.

“But we’re not done with our ice cream!” Tyler protests, his face already covered in a thick layer of sugar.

“I know, but you can bring yours with you,” I say patiently, trying to hand Mayor Green payment for the dessert. But he’s shaking his head, telling me it’s on him, since I’m not going to sit down and enjoy it. Finally I give up and take Tyler and his ice cream back to the car, cleaning his face and hands before he climbs in. “We’ll come back another day, Ty. Promise.”