Chapter 3

When you're happy, you're willing to take risks, right? Humph. I was still nervous when I rang her bell, but at least I had something to do with my hands. After a month, I'd finally worked up the courage to bring Tamara some flowers. Her expression was pure gold when she saw them.

"Oh John! Thank you!" she gushed, taking them out of my hands and beckoning me in. Tamara continued to make glowing compliments as she tracked down a vase and got them firmly ensconced as the dining table centerpiece.

"Thank you!" she said again, standing back from the table. Then her face fell. She turned to me, very serious.

"Billy came home crying. He won't tell me or his grandmother why."

I let out a deep breath. "He's in his room?"

She nodded. I steeled myself and headed down the hall.

I knocked and quickly called out "Hey, Billy! It's John. Can I come in?"

"No!" was the resounding reply through the door.

"Aw, C'mon! Dinner's not ready and I want to spend some time with my buddy!" I emphasized the last word a little, which seemed to do the trick. The door opened and Billy looked up at me, his eyes red and swollen. I pushed the door open further as he trooped over to his bed. I saw one of his MechWarriors in pieces on the floor. I scooped up the biggest part of the wreck and sat down next to Billy. I turned it slowly in my hands, looking at the damage.

"Hmmm," I said, he looks hurt."

"Jesse smashed him!"

"Really? Why?"

"Because he's mean!" The tears started again. "He's mean! He and Frank took him and smashed him!"

I reached down and scooped some more pieces up.

"We can fix him," I soothed.

"No we can't! See!"

He pointed to a plastic part that was snapped. More than minor surgery was going to be needed to bring this warrior back to his feet. I continued turning it in my hands.

"Sure we can," I said. "We just need to get some new parts."

Billy's sniffles started to slow.

"Mom won't let me!"

"Did you ask her?"

"No..."

"Why not?"

"She said no more Warriors last time we were at the store."

Ah.

"Well," I said, "this might be different. Why don't you ask her?"

"Frank said I was a baby if I went to my mommy!"

"What?"

"Frank and Jesse! They said that only babies played with Warriors! Then they took him and smashed him! They said I was a baby that would go crying to my mommy!" He was starting to cry again.

"I'm not a baby!" he repeated.

I reached out and put an arm around him and he turned and started hugging me, crying into my shirt. I held him and just let him cry.

"No, you're not a baby," I reassured, when his sobs had again faded. "You're not a baby for playing with Warriors or a baby for talking to your mom," I continued.

I felt him stiffen.

"I'm not a baby, am I?" I continued, "and I play with Warriors." He pulled back and looked at me. "We play together, remember?"

"Yeah..."

"And I talk to your mom all the time."

"But she's not your mom," he challenged.

"True," I replied, "but I talk to my mom a lot too." Okay, not quite true, but I didn't want to confuse the kid.

"Besides," I continued, "you can talk to me."

That seemed to calm him down.

"Tell you what," I offered, "I'll bring you a new Warrior next week."

"You will?"

"Sure! How can we have a good battle if we don't get a replacement for this guy?"

I got up and, using exaggerated care, placed the Warrior on Billy's desk. I straightened him out, getting him as near to lying in state as I could. Billy came over and looked at him.

"He's a fallen comrade," I said solemnly.

Billy and I looked at him in silence.

"Dinner's ready," came from behind us. Tamara was at the door. We obediently followed her to the table.

The meal was a quiet affair. Billy mostly just ate and watched as Tamara and I had adult conversation. I'd gotten more at ease telling her about my week and asking about her classes. Since it had been a dull week for both of us, there were long pauses of silence. They were less uncomfortable than those I was used to in the past, but I still wondered if I should fill them. After dinner, Tamara and I adjourned to the couch as Billy started doing the dishes.

"So what was wrong?" she asked.

"Some kids at school were teasing him, calling him a baby who would run home crying to mommy."

"Oh." She looked troubled, then resigned.

"They also broke one of his MechWarriors. I said I'd bring him a new one next week."

"Ah. Umm. There might be a problem with that. I'm going to work a long weekend next week, including Thursday. Midterms are over and I could use the money."

"Oh." There was a huge sinking feeling in my stomach. I didn't want to think about it.

"What's wrong, John?" Tamara asked.

"Nothing," I lied. Then I realized she'd catch me at it. "I just wanted to give Billy his Warrior next week."

"You can still do that. Billy will be at my mom's. I'll give you the address."

"I really don't want to have dinner with your mom."

Tamara stared at me for just a moment--enough for me to know she'd caught on that there was more beneath the surface of my response.

"Why don't I just drop it off?" I suggested before she could say anything.

"Sure," she said with a nod.

Billy appeared in the door just then, announcing the dishes were done. I suggested a game and escaped from the room before I could think much more about Tamara and Tamara's job.

That Saturday I headed out for some toy shopping. Billy's MechWarrior turned out to be more difficult to find than I'd thought. I did eventually get one, but in the third store I discovered something else I thought he'd like: a Robin Hood bow and arrow.

True, it was just plastic and didn't have much pull, but I talked the sales lady into letting me try it anyway. It must have been a slow day because she didn't hesitate too long before letting me untie it. The suction cups at the end of the arrows didn't stick, but it shot straight enough for me to be convinced that Billy would love it.

Which he did. I hadn't wanted to stay for dinner at his grandmother's place that Thursday, but Billy's exuberance kept us shooting at targets in her backyard until it was dark and then some. Dinner itself was stilted with me unsuccessfully trying to hide my discomfort until I finally stopped trying to be polite to Grandma and just talked to Billy. She actually seemed relieved. After dinner, Billy wanted to shoot some more but his grandmother refused to let him shoot in the house and it had grown dark outside. I promised him we'd practice some more the following week at his mom's.

When I showed up the following Thursday, Tamara greeted me at the door with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered in my ear, right after the kiss. "Billy's been happy all week. He even checked out some books from the library on Robin Hood."

Before she could quite release our clench, Billy was in the doorway.

"John! John! Let's go practice!" He already had his bow in his hand and somewhere along the line had acquired a pointed green felt hat.

"Sure thing Robin!"

With that we were pell mell out the front door. We picked a tree down by the curb and took turns emptying the plastic quiver at it and then running up to it to find the wayward arrows. Despite being three times his age and theoretically better physically coordinated, Billy was hitting the mark as often as I was. We laughed when one actually stuck to a nearby parked car, but I hastily pulled it off in case unseen owners noticed. I kept calling Billy 'Robin' and soon he was calling me 'Little John.' We then began picking other targets in the yard and street and daring each other to shoot further and at smaller targets. We usually missed, but the laughter at the occasional strike was wide and loud. Eventually I noticed Tamara, sitting on the porch, watching us, smiling.

The following Thursday was more of the same. Billy wanted to play Robin Hood before I was even in the door. He had obviously been practicing during the week as he easily outshot me with target after target. Once again, Tamara gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek when I arrived, with just enough extra to make me wonder if the toy bow had been a better present than the flowers a few weeks before.

Later, as Billy did the dishes, Tamara confirmed my guess by sitting next to me and leaning in. I hesitated a moment before wrapping my arm around her in a gentle hug.

"Thanks, John. Billy is so happy. It's really nice to see."

"He's a great kid," I replied.

"Yeah, he's my life. When things get rough for me, seeing him happy cheers me up."

"Have things been rough?"

She sighed. "School's been tough this semester. I'm passing, but I'm not getting A's. Also, money's a little tighter than I'd like."

"Are you going to have to work another weekend?" I blurted out before I could stop.

She didn't notice my tension.

"Maybe. I don't know when though. I have a paper due next week so this weekend doesn't work. The weekend after that is the Halloween party..."

Tamara pulled back up to sitting straight. "John," she began, "One of the other non-traditional students in my class is throwing a Halloween party and families are invited. Billy wants to go and be Robin Hood. Would you be willing to come with us?"

"You want me to come to a party with your friends?" I finally uttered. I was stunned at the suggestion.

"Classmates," she corrected. "And yes, it would be good for you to spend some time socially with women other than me. Besides, Billy would love it if you came as Little John."

Ugly John, really. Trying to impress a bunch of strange women who'd be trying to run away from me.

"What are you going as?" I asked.

Tamara smiled.

"Well, if you are Little John and Billy's Robin Hood, I'd better be Maid Marion. I think I have a dress that will work and isn't too revealing."

She smirked and my imagination began to run a little wild.

"So will you come?" she asked.

I struggled with my answer for a while. On the one hand, I was terrified of what she was suggesting. My gut was already in turmoil. On the other hand, I knew Billy would like it, and I suspected I'd like Tamara in her costume. I began wondering where I'd find a Little John costume in time. That made me realize I'd already decided.

"Sure," I said.

Which resulted in me knocking on Tamara's door nine days later, my hands firmly wrapped around a second toy bow to be part of my costume. The costume itself was inside—Tamara had graciously agreed to do some tailoring after seeing how poorly the off-the-shelf shirt and vest had fit. She opened the door and dropped to a curtsey.