They were gone, and I’d never see them again. No matter how much I needed them, my parents had been gone for so long. I might have forgotten their faces had it not been for photos. The sound of their voices, the clothes they wore, the food they ate. All of it was a blur. I couldn’t remember if they were good or bad parents either. Were they smart, mean, kind, or compassionate? Everything they were to me was replaced by the accident, and I could hardly assemble the pieces of that.

But I knew I missed them. I missed my mom and dad. Most days, I could almost forget to try to remember. But not anymore. Not when Tom and I were trying to be parents ourselves.

None of us knew what we were doing. There weren’t any rules or set roles. Maybe there was one rule. It was the only thing we all agreed on. Even River understood.

Don’t fuck up the kid.

None of us wanted to be a bad influence. None of us wanted to ruin Malcolm’s childhood. Had it not been for that kid, we would have been at each other’s throats.

“That’s red,” I told Malcolm.

Tom, Cindy, and River had jobs around the city, but with my new contract, I worked from home. I could have gone to work at the comic building, but I decided to get the most out of my new home office setup. I’m sure had we forced Cindy to come up with the money, we could have afforded a babysitter, but I took on the role for the time being. No one understood how much work I had to do. Maybe Tom, at his best, could understand I did more than doodling all day, but even he misjudged my workload.

Working from home never freed me from deadlines. Regardless, Malcolm and I spent most of our days together after the big move.

“And what color is this?” Malcolm asked.

In the office, while I worked on my comic pages, he sat behind me, drawing in a coloring book on the floor.

“That’s blue,” I said, looking over my shoulder at the crayon in his hand.

Malcolm was old enough to know his colors. He should have known his colors. Though, the selection I had given him was more unique than the average box most kids had. Rose Gold, Lilly White, Galactic Blue. Even if Malcolm couldn’t understand the complex naming convention, surely he knew the generalities.

He was probably looking for attention. And, admittedly, I didn’t mind giving it.

Women of any age were always allowed to say they wanted kids. They were allowed to say how cute, fun, or silly another person’s kids were. But men, when we talked about wanting kids, things got odd. I could never say, out in public, that I had fun playing with toddlers. It would have made me look like a creep had I divulged that I enjoyed teaching little rug rats their shapes and colors. 

Add in that I was gay, and people were bound to think I was a diddler had I ever shown any interest in babies or kids.

But I wanted them. Kids were always a dream of mine. Did I think I was right for them? No. Did I think Tom and I would ever have any? Probably not. But I wanted them.

After three days of it being just the two of us, Malcolm must have been bored. Had his mother not forbidden him from watching TV all day, I would have tossed him a remote to watch cartoons in the living room, but that wasn’t about to happen. As much as it pained me to agree with that woman, I didn’t think TV was the best way for Malcolm to spend his time, either.

“And, and this?” he asked, suddenly at my side, holding another color up.

“That’s green.”

“And,” he started, but I finally turned in my seat.

I was having fun. Being his teacher, helping Malcolm grow an interest in art made me forget I had a deadline. He made me forget I was supposed to be working. But I was supposed to be working. And I hadn’t forgotten that watching the kid was technically a favor to his mother.

“Why don’t we go see your mother?” I said, standing with a sigh.

River worked at a car dealership. Tom was a manager at Beef Babies. Cindy found a job cleaning homes with a maid service. Malcolm and I needed a break from the house, so I was willing to distract Cindy for a bit. She was also the only person working within walking distance of us.

We left around midday, but the sky was gray. Seattle always had rain, but lately, it felt gloomy. The streets were hollow and bland. Color had been washed out of focus. Or maybe my vision was diluted.

In any case, Malcolm was happy to be outdoors. He was Tom’s kid alright. The way he ran around without getting tired, it might have been funny had I not been tired myself.

Cindy was cleaning a house a few streets over, so we had a sizable walk ahead of us.

Along the way, I fought with Malcolm to make him hold my hand when we crossed streets, and at every turn, he wanted to play with one of the toys I let him bring. Why did I let him bring so many toys? A foam football, a plastic baseball bat, and a water gun. We weren’t halfway before I finally let us stop.

There was a neighborhood park, a playground; Malcolm had to explore the moment he saw the giant blue slides. I had to follow him. Before I could grab his hand, there were already a bunch of other kids playing with him. I suppose he had the Stout family charisma, too.

I took a seat at a nearby bench, and as time started to roll, the sky opened up enough to see the sun. It was so yellow, the clouds so white, the sky blue. Color returned for a dime.

We were never going to make it to Cindy. Even if we had, I wasn’t sure what we’d do when we got there. It wasn’t like I could have left Malcolm with her.

“Dad.”

The day went by so fast. It was peaceful, dare I say tranquil.

“Dad.”

I must have drifted off to sleep after a while. Had Seattle ever been so warm before?

“Dad!”

I jumped in my seat at the sudden sensation of rain pelting my face. Looking around in a panic, I quickly found Malcolm sitting beside me, tugging at the sleeve of my green sweater. What did he call me?

“What?” I said.

“Can we go home?” He asked.

What did he call me? We hadn’t explained who Tom was to the kid yet. We were all searching for the right time.

He couldn’t say things like that. It brought the biggest smile to my face, but I quickly swallowed it with grief.

What did Malcolm call me?