Dancing Hours by Jennifer Browning

“Kids?!? They’re not kids.” a nd bounced merrily out.   Mrs. Merchant removed her apron and set it down on the counter next to the stove, then gave us a smile and a nod, picked her purse up and walked out.
     
    David and I were left in the suddenly quiet kitchen looking at each other.  He smiled, which I couldn’t recall seeing before, and looked instantly years younger.  He took a deep breath and looked toward the door the trio had just left through.
     
    “You don’t have to do this, you know.” He told me again .
     
    “I know.  It’ll be fun.  You deserve a break and I have cleared my schedule for this occasion.”   I said.
     
    He took a deep breath and stretched his arms out wide and then clapped his hands together in front of him.  “Okay, what should we do?” He asked completely unaware that he was half-naked or that it made me feel oddly buzzed.
     
    “Shower.” I said.  He looked at me for a moment, then it seemed to click. 
     
    “Oh yeah, right!   I’ll be right back.” He looked happy .  I smiled as he bounded for the bathroom and then dug into my breakfast. 
     
    He emerged fifteen minutes later.  He was clean, shaven and dressed in a pair of jeans and a graphic print T -shirt looking every bit like any one of my friends.  I successfully resisted the urge to snoop in the room he shared with Noah.  I’d hardly have had time anyway.
     
    He stood a little taller now looking a little like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  How long had it been since he had a day off from being a father?  Three years?  Four?   It crossed my mind that he could probably stand to loosen up.
     
    I announced that I was driving and he didn’t complain.  He seemed game for anything.  As we buckled into my virtually ancient CJ7, I confessed that I’d never been asked to sit for a grown-up before. 
     
    “A grown up?  Gee z , you make me feel old.  I’m just a few years older than you are – not exactly a generation. ”
     
    “Unless you’re Jessica.   That’s her whole life.”  I was joking.  He didn’t think it was funny.
     
    After an awkward pause, I suggested starting with some coffee.  He wasn’t going to hold my attempt at hu mor against me and said coffee sounded good.  I was glad he intend ed to have a good day, because I knew exactly where to take him.
     
    A few minutes later we arrived at Under Ground, the coffee shop where Nan sometimes worked.  I knew she’d be there today and she didn’t disappoint – looking flashy in a bright pink dress .  It hugged her thin frame and gave hints of the beautiful young woman she had once been.  She was still the highlight of many an old-timer’s day here at the coffee shop.  By day it brewed coffee, by night it served liquor.  All day it smelled sort of funny.
     
    We grabbed a café table in between the door and the counter. Nan descended on us like a kite touching down.  “Andy and David, to what do I owe the pleasure?” she purred in classic Southern Belle.
     
    “I’m babysitting David.  He needs a non-grown - up kind of day.” I explained.
     
    Nan seemed to consider this for a moment and David filled the empty silence with an unnecessary explanation about the shopping trip and his free day.  Nan didn’t need the explanation because she knew everything there was to know about not - grown - up kind of days.
     
    “You driving, sweet pea?” she asked me.
     
    “Yep.” I said, knowing she was thinking what I was thinking.
     
    “How old are you boy ? ” she questioned David
     
    “2 1 ” he said with a quizzical look.
     
    “You telling me the truth?” she squinted her eyes at him as though she could see the truth that way.
     
    “Uh, yes.” He said.
     
    I gathered he though t she was trying to decide if he was too old for me, but I knew why Nan was asking and it’s the reason I brought him here.
     
    “Okay then, I’ll make you my Special.  And for you, sweet pea, the unleaded