Love you, Tella

Stella

I never knew that hanging out with a kid could be so much fun. Cannon spent an hour reading and showing me books from the classic Goodnight Moon to a documentary on bugs of the world titled Creepy Crawlies in the Night.

I learned more about bugs than I ever wanted to know, but he amazed me with his knowledge. He might not be able to read, but someone reads these books to him so regularly that he has every word and every bug fact memorized.

Then we ordered pizza for dinner and took a walk down to the local corner mom-and-pop ice cream shop for a cone. Cannon announced to the teenager behind the counter that I was his new friend Tella and his favorite flavor ice cream was, oddly, coffee, same as mine.

We finished up and walked back to the hotel where I thought Cannon might want to crash the convention’s dinner party to see his dad. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

He couldn’t wait to get back to the room so he could show me his three-hundred-strong army of superhero action figures, and watch X-Men movies until he passed out on the couch with his head in my lap.

Usually, I can only go a couple of hours without a cigarette, but tonight I haven’t craved one, not even once. I thought about it when we walked past the hotel’s patio bar where a few people were puffing away, but it was only an observance, not a craving. I’ve been smoking since I was fifteen, could it be possible that I simply needed a kid to distract me from my habit to quit? I guess I’ll find out, if we keep spending time together this week.

After I clean up his toys and books, I head into the kitchen for a bottle of water. On the way, I see Ash’s emergency phone number list laying on the table, crumpling it up I toss it in the trash and snort to myself.

What kind of pussy ass nannies has he been hiring anyway? This kid is perfectly behaved, pleasant to be around, polite, and fun. He has an occasional outburst of excitement, but hell, what kid doesn’t?

I mean, yeah, I can tell he likes me, and that makes it easier, but I can’t imagine him being as terrible as Ash describes him. He makes him sound like a holy terror in need of an exorcism.

Maybe I missed my calling. I should have done something with kids. But then again, I never got to explore my options. As soon as my sister Charlotte told my parents that she wanted to be a veterinarian and that her dream was to work on our family farm in that capacity, all of the college funds became hers.

Her career choice was worthy of their money since that was investing in the ranch’s future success. I've never known what I wanted to do with my life, but after that, I didn't want it to have anything to do with ranching.

So far, I haven’t been able to help it. I live in an apartment over the main barn a few thousand feet from the house I grew up in, and I herd cattle and help mom with the accounting for a living

I exist, I don’t live. I want to see the world, find out what lies beyond the fences of our ranch and the borders of Montana. I want to experience the ocean, drink tequila in Mexico, climb a mountain, go to New York and see a Broadway show. I want to go to college, meet people who don’t shovel shit and look at cow’s asses for a living or consider Wrangler jeans high fashion.

I’m thirty years old, and I haven’t left the state of Montana, I don’t have an education past the twelfth grade. I've been stuck in neutral for going on twelve years.

I need a change and it took Cannon Pride, a four and a half year old extraordinaire, to make me realize it.

I carry little man into his daddy’s room draped over my shoulder. His arms and legs dangle limply when I pull back the heavy down comforter and fall into bed with him still in my arms. I couldn’t put him down gently, he’s a solid kid and I don’t want to wake him, so here we are spooning.

It’s not until I quit moving, my brain stops thinking, that I realize how utterly exhausted I am. A long day of traveling, getting settled, and meeting the Pride duo has taken its toll.

As my heavy eyelids slide shut, my last thoughts are of Ash Pride and his beautiful son tucked warmly inside the curve of my body. I whisper, “Goodnight, sweet boy, thanks for being my friend.”

I thought he was sound asleep until I feel his hand on one of mine and he murmurs, “Love you, Tella.”

My heart flutters, and I gasp. This little guy, who has only known me for one day, is the first of the male gender to ever confess his love to me, other than my daddy.

I don’t return the sentiment. First of all, I’m almost asleep, second, he is asleep again, and third, I don’t think I should be confessing that I love a little boy that I’ll probably never see again after this week.

But, I’m pretty sure I do.