<span style="font-size: 15px">Brock had his hands on the straps of his backpack and looked up at Edith. He petted his fluffy hair and nodded at the guy, but wait, oh yeah, there had been a conference she couldn't go to yesterday. She hadn't been able to do it, she just hadn't. She didn't want to hear anything bad, and she didn't want to deal with anything with Chris because things were... they were getting worse far quicker than before, it was like their unsteady ship had just crashed and now they were both just trying to survive with nothing to hold onto except Brock, that is. <br/>
<br/>
"Uh, right. Thanks, Phil," she said, helping Brock up into her car. It was bigger, higher off the ground, a four wheeler meant for tough terrain that she drove everywhere because she liked it. She made sure Brock was buckled like usual and got into the driver's seat before pulling out and riding home. She was going down the street, and she swerved, missing the car that can bolting at her from her side. She looked around, trying to see if anyone else had saw it, but there was nothing, everything was moving like normal even if a few horns did honk. What had just happened? She got Brock home safe and sound and when he got out of the car she got in front of him on her knees so she was at eye level. "Alright, we do not tell you father what happened with the car okay?" <br/>
<br/>
"We could have been really hurt. What happened?" <br/>
<br/>
"Adult things, Brock. Adult things happened and now there are some things that are going on that I need you to..." she sighed. "Come inside, we'll wait until Chris gets here for this." She hadn't expected how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to her son even after knowing she wasn't good for him and he wasn't good for her. She loved him, he was the best thing she had ever done, even if she hadn't really wanted him anyway. She loved him, how could she not? She sat beside him and watched the stupid Power Rangers movie again after getting him some water because he looked parched. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey mom?" <br/>
<br/>
"Mhmm?" <br/>
<br/>
"Why are all your things sitting by the door?" Brock looked at her and she had no idea how to respond to that. She did the only thing she knew what to do when it came to Brock nowadays and called Chris and told him he needed to come home. Finally, after she said she was leaving, Chris said he was on his way, and Brock was crying and holding onto her begging her not to go before she could even put her phone down. He got tears and snot on her, but she still held him close. "Why do you have to leave?" <br/>
<br/>
"Mommy and daddy just need to be apart for a little bit. We'll still see each other. I'll visit, I promise. <i>I promise</i>." <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Soon, Chris was home and rushing into the house, nearly tripping over the luggage. He found Edith holding Brock on her lap. He was asleep, his face red and puffy, his nose too stuffy to breath through so he was breathing through his mouth. What the hell had happened? <br/>
<br/>
"You couldn't have waited to tell him?" he asked. He walked up, eyes narrowed and picked Brock up, holding him up in a way she couldn't anymore. He was still asleep, but he was restless, he was upset clearly and he didn't know what to do, what to say or anything of the sort. "You already packed your things, so I take it you're leaving today. Probably right after whatever you want to say, right?" <br/>
<br/>
"I want a divorce." <br/>
<br/>
"Of course you do. Fine, I'll draw the paperwork up myself and send it wherever you're going so you can sign it and then it'll be over, and don't think for one moment that he's leaving with you." <br/>
<br/>
"He's my son too." <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you're right, but he's staying here. This is his home, Edith. His <i>home</i>," he said. She nodded and stood up. She looked at him and got close. She shook her head, eyes filled with tears of her own. Honestly he wanted to cry too but not for the same reason most likely, and even if that's what he wanted, he couldn't have it, he couldn't do it because it wasn't what men did, so he tried to hold it back, which constricted his throat to the point of burning and his lungs hurt as he tried not to cry with her. After he was certain his voice wouldn't waver he said, "But you're my friend, if you want, and I'll help you if you need it, and you can see him. He loves you." Edith nodded and walked away. She picked up her bags and took them to her car before coming back for the last one. He still had Brock in his arms, and even though they were starting to get tired he didn't want to put him down. <br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't it work? We were so close. What's the reason. I want the truth. Just one last thing before I walk out the door." <br/>
<br/>
"I'm... I don't like women, sexually I mean. Like to the point where dad would just grab the belt and try to make me 'normal'. Dad-- fuckin' asshole-- made sure I knew that I wasn't supposed to do that, and I believed everything he told me. I believed him because I knew he wouldn't waste a lie on someone like me. So, I'm sorry. I haven't even said it... I haven't said <i>it</i> out loud before." <br/>
<br/>
"Like, ever?" <br/>
<br/>
"It's stupid, but I thought maybe if I tried hard enough, it'd go away. I'd just start liking ladies. It, uh, obviously didn't work." She reached up at wiped the tears from his face before they could fall this time. His chest got tight again, throat burning as he tried to blink away the tears because it was unacceptable. <br/>
<br/>
"Everything he said, <i>everything</i> he said was <i>wrong</i>. I'm sorry things went this way." <br/>
<br/>
"Me too." She shut the door behind her and he sat on the couch, holding Brock to his chest. He did wake up, and he clung to him. <br/>
<br/>
"Is she gone?" he asked, his voice wavering. He nodded. <br/>
<br/>
"For now. She'll visit us. It just wasn't meant to be, I guess. I didn't want you to have to see that though. I'm sorry." For Brock he tried to not let himself feel the emotions he was pushing away, so he offered all the comfort he could, and they stayed up late into the night, and after Brock cried himself into having a horrible headache, he was struggling just to keep the kid hydrated. Nothing distracted him, and he thought maybe most kids would, but Brock had seen them arguing, he was pretty sure that Brock knew something like this may happen, and he could only imagine that he was blaming himself. He didn't know what to tell him though. How could he explain it to a kid. <br/>
<br/>
He came back with juice this time because he needed the vitamins and electrolytes and the sugars too. He sat on the floor beside him on the couch and re-watched Power Rangers for the millionth time and he had no plans on making him go to school, and he called into work sick because in a way, he was a bit under the weather. He was planning for everything he needed to do to get things up and running. He couldn't go to work and take Brock to school, pick him up, and watch him at home. He'd need to hire someone, but there wasn't anyone he trusted, and he wasn't sure if bringing a new stranger in was the best idea after Edith left, but he wrote a draft of a letter for potentially finding someone to watch over Brock when he was busy, but halfway through, and with Brock asleep, he let himself fall asleep too. <br/>
<br/>
The only thing was, the next day, the note was forgotten, and so he went to draft another but decided to just take a week off of work, if he could get it, and if not, then he'd had to figure something out. What he didn't know was that Brock read the note, and knew the perfect person, and his dad didn't even have to worry about it because he was helping. <br/>
<br/>
That morning, Chris realized he needed to go to the store and get a better selection of foods for Brock because Finn was right, poptarts and peanut butter weren't really the best things to feed a growing child, and a bottomless pit at some times. That was another thing he'd have to figure out, but until then, he packed what he had for Brock, feeling horrible for sending him with little to nothing the day before. He did grab an apple though because he knew that peeling oranges got juice and oil everywhere and if he didn't want that, he couldn't see Brock wanting to get orange oil all over everything, so he hoped hat an apple, a sandwich still peanut butter and jelly because that's all he had, and some yogurt with an extra bottle of water was good. He honestly had no idea how to do this whole thing, he hadn't had to do it very often, and even then, Edith said that Brock was fine. Had she even been helping him? Had Brock been making his own lunch. Goddamn, he wasn't sure but the idea was just horrible. He was seven, he shouldn't and wouldn't be forced to make his own things, although easy snacks should be available because the kid could actually put down so much food and still want more, and he just got taller and strong. It was crazy. <br/>
<br/>
He dropped Brock off at school, this time kissing him before he left him, of course he did this where his friends couldn't see because there was apparently a whole 'no parent kisses' or 'I love you's allowed for first graders. Middle school and high school he could understand, but he needed just as much reassurance because their kids were, well, kids and they were tiny and vulnerable, more so from adults then from peers as they were when they got older. He went to work and planned to get a nice lecture from his boss for his abrupt need of vacation without any planning in advance, but he didn't expect his wife to just up and leave one day after six months of seemingly the same thing happening. He thought he could fix things, but there was nothing to be fixed, honestly. <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
At lunch, Brock knew exactly where to take the note, because Mr. Taylor had told him that messages could be sent via him, so he did that. He hadn't read some of the scribbles on the outside because he couldn't make out the loopy lines yet, they didn't even look like real letters in places, but he did know that there were lots of words that he wasn't supposed to say written and crossed out. But they were crossed out, so it was okay because that meant that they weren't what the message actually said. As it was it said: <br/>
</span><br/><div style="margin-left: 20px"><span style="font-size: 15px">So, my </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">wife</span></s> <s><span style="font-size: 15px">best friend</span></s> <s><span style="font-size: 15px">ex wife</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> soon-to-be ex-wife left me with our son </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">after I outed myself,</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> and now I'm looking for someone to </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">care</span></s> <s><span style="font-size: 15px">protect</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> help my son from school and to home. I'm a </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">busy idiot</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> lawyer and the for the </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">short as shit</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> abrupt and urgent need of anyone competent </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">and not a piece of garbage like Edith fuckin' xxodfwse</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> and with verified credentials, it's the least I can ask for because he's </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">young</span></s> <s><span style="font-size: 15px">all I have left</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> a seven year old with a curiosity that can be seen with his multiple books on math because my child is a </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">genius</span></s> <s><span style="font-size: 15px">math-dork</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> young and scientific mind that will get into everything and anything he can reach just to see how it works. </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">There was one time and he decided to take the remote apart and I'm pretty sure he ate a spring or something because it was never the same again.</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> <br/>
So, my soon-to-be ex-wife left me with our seven year old son, Brock, after an </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">expected</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> unexpected falling out. I'm looking for a part-time sitter, or nanny of some sort to care for him while I work. I work long hours, and will pay for all the extra hours twice as much. </span><s><span style="font-size: 15px">I'm desperate and if I lose my job then he'll have nothing and then I'll just prove that I'm</span></s><span style="font-size: 15px"> <br/>
<s>I'm alone, I'm trying to care for a son, but since</s> I'm a paper pusher at the county attorney's office,  and it's hard to care for my child because there's a lot of paper to be pushed. <s>I need help. </s>I'll pay whatever you think is fair, <s>please, I just need someone to help me out.</s> I need credentials, I can't just trust him to anyone <s>but who's going to get me those in the short time I'm asking for. I've fucked up. I've fucked up. I shouldn't told her and I didn't</s></span>​</div><span style="font-size: 15px"><br/>
It devolved after this into a bunch of scribbles, but it made sense to Brock when he read it, and who else would be a good 'part-time sitter' or 'nanny.' He wasn't sure what those meant, but it was probably someone to watch him if the words meant anything. Some of them were big and he had to spell them out and it was hard to look them up sometimes, but for the most part, he understood what he needed to do. His dad thought he was a genius after all, although it was typically when it came to math... Brock smiled and said: "my dad wrote this," and then walked away to eat his lunch with his friends, trying really hard to laugh with them and bring up topics that didn't revolve around their family, but they were young, and their families were all that they had, and now Brock did't even have a full one of those either. </span>