Singer
117 days with Miles
Moving was a nightmare. Singer was thankful for the army of Derries who’d volunteered to help, but between the twins picking up lunch—then getting lost on their way to the new house where everyone was gathered to eat—Cathy and Carey arguing over the organization of furniture in the moving truck, and Frankie’s general derision, he was pretty close to over the entire thing.
And it was only just beginning; once they got everything to the new place, they’d have to unpack.
He stood beside Jake in the center of the kitchen. “Moving is endless.”
Miles called, “Ake!” Both of them looked over.
“You agree, Miles?” Jake asked.
“Ake.”
“Yeah, us, too, buddy. I think this calls for a nap. Or something.”
“How can we nap? They’ll all be back any minute now for more stuff—”
“It takes fifteen, twenty minutes to get over there, then they have to unload, then they have to drive back. We have a little bit of time.” Jake nudged him. “Grab the kid.”
It had initially felt stilted, Jake handing off parenting duties like he was making a point. But this was Jake, and he wasn’t really making a point. He was trying to help in the most bludgeoning way possible.
Singer scooped Miles out of his high chair and made a mental note to hose it down before they brought it into the new house. “Maybe I should take this outside and clean it so it’ll be dry before—”
Jake laughed. “You think our landlords won’t give us an extra day or two to move out if we need it? Seriously, everything’s under control. Plus, let’s give Mom the food safety jobs. She’ll whip up some kind of white vinegar miracle thing and she’ll like doing it.”
“I just don’t feel like we should—”
“Hey.” Jake stepped right in front of him so he couldn’t go anywhere but back. And he didn’t want to. “Miles is pooped.”
Singer ran his hand down Miles’s back and Miles sighed, putting his head down. “I don’t think he likes moving, either.”
“Nope. Why don’t we go lie down with him for a few minutes? I bet he falls asleep.”
“You think we’ll get another nap out of him today?”
“Maybe. I know I could use one.”
Miles’s room had been completely dismantled, and Alice was in charge of recreating it in the new house. The committee had decided it was the most important room to have settled by the end of the day.
Their bedroom was all boxes and half-open drawers, but the bed was still there, and made. No side tables, and one of the dressers had been moved out already (Singer’s; Jake’s still had clothes hanging out of it and junk on top).
“Here,” Jake murmured, flipping back the comforter and blanket and sheet, moving the pillows to the sides so Singer could lay Miles down in the center of the mattress.
It seemed perfectly natural to follow, stretching out, with both of them bracketing Miles. Miles kicked his legs and put up a token protest, then curled to his side facing Jake and closed his eyes.
They watched. Singer reached out, lightly resting his hand against Miles’s back, feeling his breaths. He wouldn’t have done it at night, or if this was the only nap, but if it didn’t work out, they’d just get back up. They didn’t need this nap, and it made him bold.
“We, uh, forgot to change his diaper,” Jake breathed.
Singer winced. “He’s going to leak everywhere.”
“And all the rest of our sheets are in a box somewhere in Pleasant Hill.”
They looked at each other. Jake grinned, slowly, the expression stealing over his face as if the more he thought about it, the more amused he was.
Singer couldn’t help but smile back, his muscles mirroring Jake’s involuntarily. “There isn’t anything funny about this.”
“It’s a little funny. And I think that means we should bite the bullet and move the bed next.”
“I’m not the reason our bedroom is last on the list, Jacob.”
“Hey, your whole side of the vanity is a mess.”
Singer looked over, ready to defend himself, but Jake’s muffled giggle pulled his attention back. “You’re such a liar.”
“Made you look.”
Miles heaved a huge breath and flipped to his back, eyelids fluttering. For a second neither of them moved. Then he settled again, deep breaths resuming.
“If you wake him up, you have to clean the bathroom,” Singer whispered.
“If you wake him up, you have to let me clean the bathroom. Without supervision.”
Singer narrowed his eyes at Jake’s triumph. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh yeah. I’d leave hairs in the drain. And I wouldn’t get the mirror streak-free.”
“It’s not clean if— Never mind.” Singer turned back to watching Miles sleep. He was walking all the time now, but he was still stocky; he seemed to defy gravity as he trundled through the living room.
“Can you see his heartbeat?”
He tilted his head down, and yes, there, faster than Singer expected. “That’s amazing.”
“I know. Like, I get how the human body works, and it’s objectively miraculous, but then I look at him and it’s even cooler.”
Singer glanced up. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“I tried to, but it didn’t stick. You’re pretty hard to give up on, Singer Thurman. Oh my god, wait, speaking of not giving up on people, I haven’t told you my evil genius plan yet! What if Lisa and Frankie moved in together?”
“What? That’s crazy.”
“I know. It can’t possibly work, except it might. And it would be epic.”
“It really would be.”
“And anyway, I love Lisa, but none of us are going to be comfortable with her on the sofa bed in the living room for long. And I’m not so sure moving in with Emery is a great call, though he’d probably let her.”
Singer wasn’t so sure that either one of them would go for that. Taking things slow seemed to be working exceptionally well at the moment, and Lisa was in no hurry to repeat past mistakes. “But she and Frankie? That would be…”
“Epic, I know. I’m telling you.”
He hesitated before offering, “I’ll miss being at the epicenter of the Irregulars. I’ll miss the circus, I think. You know. With the new house and everything.”
“Singer. How long have you known my family?”
It sounded like a rhetorical question, but out of curiosity, Singer did the math. “I met the Derries freshman year of high school. So … eighteen years?”
“You think there’s, like, any chance we won’t always be in the middle of a circus?”
“Hm. Good point.”
Down the hall they could hear the front door slam open.
“Boys, we’re back!”
Both of them winced. Miles’s eyes opened wide, and his hands clenched into tiny fists.
“Miles, it’s okay,” Singer began, while Jake said, “Shh, shh, it’s all right.”
It was no use. Miles started to cry. He reached for Jake, who pulled him to one shoulder and shot a See what I’m saying? There’s no escaping the circus look at Singer.
In some other part of the house, Cathy was scolding Frankie for yelling in a house where babies were present—apparently unaware that her voice was just as loud—and Singer could only smile. He reached out to pat Miles’s back as he whimpered tiredly.
“Fucking Derries,” Jake muttered.
Singer leaned awkwardly over to kiss him. “I wouldn’t have them any other way. I think it’s time Frankie learned how to change a diaper, don’t you?”
Jake laughed.