Author's Note:

  Thanks for giving my story a chance. I wanted to publish this and the next four chapters so you can have all the set up of this adventure. I hope you like it!

  ++

  There was just enough strawberry jam for the 'extra extra EXTRA jelly' that Dylan wanted on his peanut butter jelly sandwich. Zephaniah was cutting the bread diagonally when Dylan spoke up.

  "It hasth to be in stwips"

  Zephaniah paused too late. The deed was already done. "Excuse me?"

  The boy simply nodded at him emphatically.

  "Strips?" Zeph asked again, unsure what the 10-year-old meant.

  "Stwips," Dylan affirmed. He stood proudly on the cushions of the couch, easily peaking over its back, arms and legs extended as if the increased height would aid his declaration.

  "There isn't a kid on this planet that eats their PB and Js in strips." Zeph accused.

  "I do." Dylan followed the words by opening his mouth wide. He bared his teeth to show the spots where two front teeth should be. If Zeph were a bit closer, he could see small white mounds beginning to emerge from the boy's gums. They were still too small to chew anything but were no less emerging. "It makes th it eathier."

  "Well," Zeph stared down at the two sandwich triangles like they were an impossible puzzle. "I mean, it's already cut, boog"

  Zephaniah was not Dylan's father. In fact, they aren't even related. Zeph had been friends with Dylan's father, Eric, since middle school. Dylan's mom, Jodie, worked odd hours and seemed to be burning the candle at both ends for some undisclosed financial reasons.

  Ever since Eric died last year, Zeph had been trying to visit Dylan more often. Boog, short for booger, was the affectionate honorific Dylan earned after a diabolically funny, yet equally disgusting 'Nose dance.' Zeph bestowed the name upon him through gasping laughter while Jodie gagged, screaming for the dance to end. That was only three years ago, while Eric was on a business trip.

  Today was the first day of spring break and Jodie had picked up a few extra shifts at the beach bar. So tonight it was just the boys and the unusual predicament of the incorrectly sliced sandwich. The stare they shared was that of a grown man and small boy wirelessly combining their intelligence to find a reasonable solution.

  "Well, maybe I can- you know," Zeph gestured cuts with his hand over his terrible mistake. "You know- maybe make... diagonal strips?"

  "Can't" Dylan shook his head, maintaining the emphasis he had earlier in the conversation. "Then the cornersth will be sthmall."

  "Oh damn," Zeph leaned back in concession, "You're right."

  "D-word!" Dylan shouted at Zeph.

  "Oh! Sorry, boog." Zeph had been told several times before by Jodie not to use 'bad words' in front of Dylan. Eric told him before that. But sometimes, he still forgot. He was turning 30 this year but still used a profane epithet every once in a while. Afterall, this was all very new to him.

  Zephiniah was laid off about a month ago. Unemployed and nothing but time, it was easy to babysit while Jodie worked. Despite the fact that everyone said he was good with kids, he never really felt like father material. Not that he ever wanted to be Dylan's father. But being there, in front of a child who was unsure how to cope with the loss of his real-father, Zeph felt compelled to be the best kind of man he could be for the kid.

  "Well, I can't just make it again. We're out of jelly."

  "Justh scwape it off."

  Zeph paused for a moment, staring at the sandwich. Then, his face brightened with an idea: the answer to Dylan's sandwich puzzle.

  Later, the two of them sat on the couch watching 1995's Desperado. Dylan slowly chewed his last PB and J strip enjoying the movie with Uncle Zeph. They sat together on the couch– the lone surviving piece of furniture left in the tall luxurious living room.

  The house was one of the largest on the block, too. Before he passed, Eric bought the place with the salary from his big fancy job. With that salary gone and the mortgage drying up their savings, Jodie started selling off furniture and other trinkets around the house. Now, the designer couch that once complimented the interior design was replaced with a second-hand, but arguably more comfortable one.

  The last big shoot-out in the movie had just begun when Jodie unlocked and opened the front door.

  "Hi, Mom!" Zeph and Dylan sang in unison.

  Jodie seemed tired as she made her way through the door. She strode to the counter to set her bags down, but not before straining to tussle Dylan's hair with the same arm that carried her heavy backpack. She tried to match her son's tone and excitement.

  "Hi sweetie!" Then she flipped the imaginary switch to scold Zeph. "Zeph, I am not your mother. How many times are you gonna keep doing that?"

  "Sorry, Jodie." Zeph shut off the TV and Dylan complained that it was at the good part.

  Jodie caught a glimpse of the violence on the screen just before it went black. Her eyebrows furrowed the way any mother would when preparing to issue a good scolding. "And how many times do I have to tell you not to show Dylan those movies?" She stomped, "They're too- you know- grown up!"

  "Sorry, Jodie", Zeph picked up Dylan's paper plate which now held only crumbs and smears that once was the sandwich. He walked to the kitchen where Jodie was emptying her tupperware containers from her bag to the sink. The trashcan pedal depressed under his foot, lifting the lid to receive the empty plate. When it sprung open, Jodie could catch a glimpse of four, perfectly fine triangles of bread. Two of them still had peanut butter on them but the jelly appeared to have been scraped off the others.

  "Did you waste this bread too? Dammit, Zeph, I can't afford for you to waste food!" Jodie was normally pretty irritable after work. At least, that's what Eric used to tell Zeph over beers. She would always find something to be mad at, and sometimes he'd just let her. Zeph didn't know if that was a very husbandly thing to do but maybe now it would help her cope with the stress or something.

  "Sor-"

  "And stop saying Sorry, Jodie." She mocked Zeph with a tone that was entirely too deep for her, only reserved for mocking stupid men. "Sorry, Jodie. Sorry, Jodie. SORRY, JODIE. Dammit, Zeph, do you know how many hours I had to work today?"

  She didn't need to say 'work' like that, but she did anyway.

  "D-WORD!" Dylan chastised his mom.

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  Jodie took a deep breath and pivoted to her son, the kind of composure only a mother could fake. "Yes, I'm sorry, honey. Mommy used the D-word because she was very stressed. That doesn't make it okay to use bad words, it just means she needs to work on her vocabulary."

  "You sthaid it twicthe," Dylan pointed out meagerly.

  Jodie sighed, just barely showing the chinks in the armor she called a smile. This time she spoke through clenched teeth. "Yes, sweetie. Mommy owes you two new words to better express how she was feeling when she used the D-word. Could you please go down the hall to your room while I talk to your uncle?"

  "Zee told me he'th not really my uncle." Dylan offered his ten-year-old's fact of the day, meeting her eyes.

  This time Jodie's face showed a bit more frustration, though somehow smiling harder. She squatted down to meet Dylan at eye level. "Did he, now? He loves making things difficult, doesn't he? I personally don't think it's normal to just let strange men hang around the house when I'm not around but maybe Uncle Zeph has a different parenting style in mind." Jodie turned her head to bead a pair of furious eyes on Zeph. "Uncle Zeph can be confusing sometimes, baby. Now, Dylan, please go to your room. Mommy won't say it again."

  "I wathn't confuthed. He said he wasth justh weally good friendth with Da-"

  "DYLAN." Jodie stood, now shouting but not looking at her son. "GO. TO YOUR ROOM!"

  Dylan pouted before storming off to his room and slamming the door with as much force as his little arms could muster.

  "Are you happy, Zeph?" Jodie hurriedly walked back to the kitchen to finish putting up her dishes. "You made him mad at me. Again!"

  "I don't think-"

  "You're right, Zeph. You didn't think about wasting MY food. Didn't think about watching adult movies on MY TV. Didn't think about how your words confuse MY son. What could you possibly have to say? Did you spend any time thinking this evening?" Jodie turned from the sink and toward Zeph, hands on her hips. She watched him timidly raise his hand to be called on, face wincing stupidly before he spoke up.

  "When you say 'adult movies', it makes it sounds like-" Zeph cut himself off as he watched Jodie's face grow slack with exhausted aspiration. "Uhm, never mind. Uhm sorry, Jo- erhm. I apologize?"

  Jodie let out a tense breath, anger floating away with the expelled air. "I guess you really shouldn't be. You never asked for this shit. Hell, I never asked for this shit. It's just so hard without him." She said, trudging past the granite counter top and into the living room.

  She clocked out from being the tough mom for the evening and resigned to collapsing face-first on the couch. The cheap fabric soaked up the tears she was hiding from Zeph. Not that he couldn't tell.

  "I bet it is. I miss him too. Did you know, he used to love Antonio Banderas?" Zeph sat down on the ground in front of the couch facing Jodie. She lifted her head and looked puzzled. Zeph could see that some of her makeup was running but pretended not to notice.

  "Who?"

  "Antonio Banderas. Desperado? Once Upon a Time in Mexico? Fuckin' Puss in Boots?" His face was more offended than when he was getting chewed out. "Antonio Banderas"

  "Oh, the cat from Shrek?"

  "Of all the things you have said to me tonight, this is by far the most-"

  "I don't know who- who- people are!"

  "People? They're the funny-looking apes walking around and ordering drinks at your bar, tipping way too little."

  Jodie finally blurted out a laugh. "I know who- You know what? I am still angry." Jodie buried her smile back into the cushions.

  "Smiling a lot for an angry person. Are you sure?" Zeph snickered.

  Jodie's face rose from the couch again. She successfully smothered out the flicker of a smile but she couldn't be angry either.

  "Yes!" she exclaimed before letting her head fall to the couch though this time, still watching Zeph. Her face squished against the cushions. Her words too had a squished quality to them in her stubborn defeat, "No. Well– I am. But not at you. Sorry I took it out on you. Even though I have told you not to call me mom. I'm younger than you."

  "That may be true but I act younger." Zeph protested. His eyebrows rose and he made a face as if that was more than enough explanation.

  Jodie rolled over, laying on her back and started directing her half of the conversation toward the ceiling, "I'm serious, Zeph. I'm at the end of my rope. I'm tired. I'm always angry. I just bike to work everyday. I am sure I reek when I get to the bar... That's probably why my tips suck, too." Zeph tried to hide a sniff in her direction but he failed the sneak check and she glared daggers at him. She considered chastisement but her face softened as she continued. "I can't even get in the car anymore."

  If she said anything after that, Zeph didn't hear it.

  He was lost in his own thoughts. Absorbed in the secondhand tellings of what happened that day. Eric was driving the day he died. Jodie was in the car and so was Dylan but Eric was the only one that got hurt. More than hurt, really.

  There wasn't a real reason for it. There was no drunk driver. Not so much as a cloud in the sky. Eric didn't even like to play music when he drove. He was the example that driving instructors give when they talked about the ideal, safe driver.

  Nevertheless, it was a long day, and both Dylan and Jodie were fast asleep during the late evening ride. Jodie didn't remember the collision, just the sound it made and the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. The windshield was smashed in and her right cheek rested on the jagged branch responsible for the scar that stretches up to her ear today. Since then, she would always wear her hair low and turn her face away in pictures. She still swears to her counselor that she heard Dylan screaming but her eyes refused to look in the back seat.

  Dylan, while inexplicably unharmed, may have got the worst of it. He didn't see his father's face. The emergency responders wouldn't let anyone see the body after the crash. They said when they arrived, Dylan wasn't moving. He wasn't screaming either. He was simply staring at the tree branch jutting through the driver's seat in front of him.

  The splinters caught blood and hair that dripped onto Dylan's lap. The whole front of the car was crushed like a paper fan but a low hung branch pierced the windshield and perfectly impaled Eric through the nose, missing his brain and scraping the side of his C2 vertebrae.

  It didn't kill him.

  The medical examiner reported the cause of death to be asphyxiation or blood loss.

  He was alive the whole time.

  Until he wasn't.

  The branch pinned him to the seat until he suffocated or bled out. Dylan heard whatever those last moments sounded like. Whatever he heard or saw messed him up so bad his eyes stayed locked in that blank stare for days after the accident.

  Therapy didn't change anything but after the fifth day, he was simply back to normal. He played and talked the way he used to. He celebrated when he lost one of his front teeth and again when the other one followed. Zephaniah did his best to avoid things that could make Dylan sad or trigger a memory. That's when they started watching movies every time he came over.

  For her part, Jodie tried driving again a few months ago when she got the new bar job. She didn't make it down the street before she just put it in park and stormed off back to the house. Zephaniah was still watching from between the blinds inside the house so he was ready to move the car back from the middle of the street where she left it. He tried to tell her it was okay but she was already on the bike and peddling away before he could come down the driveway.

  "Zeph?" Her voice sounded distant, coming from outside the room he and his thoughts were trapped in. He shook free and found her staring at him, mildly perturbed.

  "Yes?"

  "Did you hear anything I just said?"

  "You're always angry?" Zeph responded blankly.

  Jodie let out a sigh, rolling her eyes. She sat up and patted the spot next to her, offering Zeph a seat on the couch. He found his body already moving to sit before he made the decision.

  "I guess I am. Thanks for helping us, Zeph." She laid down again and rested her head on his lap, closing her eyes to sleep. "I just sometimes wish there was a way out. A quick fix. Something."

  He stared down at his late best friend's wife and couldn't help but notice how pretty she was. He used to like her a lot in middle school but Eric had the courage to ask her out. Zeph didn't. Now, his best friend was dead and Jodie Miller was resting her head on his lap. But she isn't Jodie Miller anymore. Zeph knew, more than anyone, that she was Jodie Edwards now and dead or not, Zeph does not feel like that for his best friend's wife.

  She looked so calm. Her jet-black hair flowed down her face. He found his hand brushing it behind her ear revealing the scar on her cheek. She was beautiful despite that scar. How could she not see that? He stared down at the woman as the room suddenly felt very still. Very quiet. So quiet he could hear his own heartbeat. Pounding.

  Could she hear that?

  Zeph used to date but that was a long time ago. He didn't have much luck with women. He guessed it just wasn't meant to be. He even went on a date with a man despite not having any attraction to men. It just never worked out.

  Now, for the first time in three years, a factually gorgeous woman was snuggling up to his lap, practically falling asleep right next to his- Zeph abruptly stood. Jodie's head was knocked ajar. She wore the look of confusion that anyone would have from being awoken abruptly from a very comfortable position.

  She couldn't see his face as Zeph rushed out the door with his back to her. "Sorry, Jodie! I forgot I-uhh -have someplace to be! See you guys tomorrow. Tell booger I said 'Good night!" and the door slammed perhaps a bit too hard as he escaped into the night.

  Jodie looked around with the dry eyes of a very tired mother and mocked the stupid man's voice again. "Sorry, Jodie," and collapsed back into her sleep on the couch.

  Zeph slipped into the night and quietly ducked into the sparsely lit suburban sidewalk in the direction of his apartment.

  And darkness encroached over the suburban home.