Chapter Two

Kyle and Otis had arrived on a Friday, so they spent the weekend indoors doing nothing in particular. Otis had warmed up to his grandmother and now called out to her and spoke using the few words he knew.

"You're up. Is your grandma awake?" Kyle asked as he spotted his three-year-old wander into the kitchen in pajamas.

"No, nana's sleeping," he muttered in a low voice, heading for the long sofa before climbing on top of it and cuddling up with the duvet that had been forgotten in the living room the night before. The young boy had begun to sleep in his grandmother's room while Kyle stayed alone in the attic room that was his when he was a kid. Otis didn't say anything after that, he just stared at the cartoons playing from a DVD on the old tele.

Kyle didn't mind that Otis had moved to stick close to his grandmother. It was how it was supposed to be. She was the one who knew how to bathe him properly and cook meals. She was also able to entertain his childish curiosity and play, a fit that only frustrated Kyle. He knew how to talk to adults, and to an extent, almost adults, but he didn't know how to talk to children at all. He didn't know any blokes like himself who could, so he tried not to beat himself up about it.

Otis was an on the whim child. Kyle had gotten married to the woman of his dreams, and following the pattern often expected of married couples, they decided to have a child together. Kyle hadn't realized he little he knew his own child until Anastasia left and he couldn't afford preschool and babysitting services. His son was a stranger in many ways, but he was still his son none the less, and Kyle would put in an effort to ease their relationship since the boy's mother had just up and left.

"Do you know you're going to school today?" Kyle asked, looking from the cup of coffee he was making to his son that was still transfixed by the television.

"School?" he said, looking over at Kyle. "But we're on holiday," the little boy said with wide eyes.

Kyle stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Otis' diction annoyed Kyle a bit, and he wasn't sure if it was because he still felt a bit conscious about his own rural accent that never really went away, or if it was because the British accent just sounded so out of place. It hinted at the preppy preschool Otis used to go to before, as well as the cartoons Anastasia made him watch.

"Yes school," Kyle muttered, stirring the contents in his mug the last time before walking to join Otis on the sofa. It was around seven in the morning, and Kyle had to drop Otis off at the preschool before ten. He had gone to see the place with his mother when he had accompanied her to the grocery store, she maintained. They had filled the registration form after taking a look around.

"I'll meet Ms. Tess?" Otis asked, and Kyle shook his head, using his free hand to pat Otis' head. The young boy seemed shocked by the reaction and closed his eyes as well as tense up.

"No, you're going to a new school," Kyle said, watching Otis' eyes for a reaction.

"New school?"

"Yes."

"Oh, okay," Otis muttered as his eyes moved back to the T.V. the gist of new schools and teachers losing his attention.

Kyle's mother got up soon after and went about giving Otis a bath and making him breakfast. Kyle waited in the living room, prepared to take Otis to school on his first day. His plans after that were simple. He'd work around the house and fix things his mother couldn't get about calling a repairman for before he took a look at his old man's mechanic workshop so that he could draw up a plan to bring it back to life. He also had plans of visiting his father's grave, but that could wait until later into his stay.

Kyle remembered working with his father after school and through the weekend. He was expecting to be overwhelmed by nostalgia and sadness when about decluttering it. The old man had meant a lot to him, and it stung to know that he couldn't be with him through his last days of extreme pain. He also wasn't able to make it to his funeral—the way he couldn't make it to anything for the past five years.

"Be safe, have a nice first day." Were Kyle's mother's parting words as Kyle drove out into the road. Otis waved at his grandmother from the back seat in his carrier chair before pressing his hands and face against the car window as his father drove on. There wasn't much to see. Newfront wasn't urban or suburbia, and it was mostly empty planes of land for the most part.

There were more farm animals than people.

There were a lot of cows and a lot of horses.

Kyle used to like bothering the horses as a kid.

They got closer to the main town hub when started to drive by buildings in shorter intervals. Kyle drove his range rover past the 'busy' streets of the town. Some people stared at the car with confusion, and other people seemed to know who he was since they waved. Kyle tried not to look at anyone, and he kept his eyes on the road until he made it to the building that housed the local preschool.

The preschool shared a building with daycare and the town's post office. An odd combination. Kyle remembered the old post office. The building had been explained as well as having two floors added to it. The preschool was on the top floor. It had looked a bit sketchy to Kyle, but Kyle's mother assured him it was a good place for Otis.

"Come on, let's go," Kyle said when he turned the car off and opened the doors. He went to the back to pick Otis up from his seat as well as picking up his day back. He shut the backseat door before pressing the lock on his car keys.

At first, Kyle wasn't sure where to go, but he spotted a woman with a child that looked just about Otis' age walking into the building. He followed with Otis, climbing up the stairs behind her until they got to the top floor. A lady was at the door talking to women as their kids slipped past through them and into the preschool. Kyle stood behind the women with Otis' bag in one hand and the other holding on to his son's left hand.

No one seemed to notice him until the person at the door—who Kyle assumed was one of the two teachers his mother talked about—looked past the ladies she was talking to and locked eyes with him.

"Oh, you're the new dad!" she said, making the two women with dark brown hair turn to look at him as well.

Kyle didn't say anything, but he nodding, moving closer since the ladies parted for him.

"Sorry for ignoring you. I didn't notice you were there," the preschool teacher said before turning her green eyes to Otis.

"Otis?" she said before grinning at the young boy, and like was with strangers, Otis just stayed quiet and stared at the floor.

"He's shy," she said, looking back up at Kyle, her shoulder-length black hair bouncing a bit with the motion.

"Yes, he is," Kyle confirmed, squeezing Otis' hand a bit.

The teacher didn't seem fazed by that though, she just kept smiling. "He'll open up soon. I'm thinking you should go in with him and talk to Chaska. Maybe he'll be less shy if you stick around for a few minutes," she said, and Kyle nodded, assuming this Chaska person was the other teacher. He shouldn't be hard to spot in the sea of short kids.

"Oh, and by the way I'm Gabbie," the woman said, making Kyle stop at the door. Gabbie reached out her hand for a handshake, and Kyle let go of Otis' hand to give it to her before letting go. The woman almost immediately looked away, focusing her attention on the other set of parents that had arrived. Kyle never remembered there being so many children when he was younger. Maybe the unrecognizable farms he saw on his way belonged to families with young children that had moved in not too long ago.

"Come on," he told his son before grabbing onto his hand and pulling him into the preschool with him. The room they walked into was drowned in color and contrasted with the hallway that had red brick walls and gloomy brown paint.

Kyle looked around for the only adult he assumed would be in the room and his eyes landed on a sturdy figure that was at the far end of the room looking through papers.

Kyle raised a brow at the man, confused as to why a person that looked like they could pass for a college gym rat was doing in a room filled with noisy children. Putting the doubt at the back of his mind, Kyle approached him with Otis and stopped to the left of him.

Now standing closer, Kyle noticed that the man had oddly not looked up at them like someone would do when approached. He kept staring at the papers in his hands as if no one was there. The man had tan skin and a toned body. Kyle could tell enough from his out of place clothes that made him look like he was dressed for a morning jog.

"Excuse me," Kyle said, losing his patience.

"Excuse me," he repeated when the man didn't look up. Kyle nibbled on his lower lip, feeling an urge to reach out and tug the teacher's man bun, but he didn't. The man, who was probably a few meters taller than his 5'11 was still ignoring him. His dark eyes were still fixed on the paper in his hands. Kyle thought he had finally been noticed when the man dropped a paper, but he had only done that to bend over to scribble on its side.

"Excuse me," Kyle said again, this time reaching out to touch the man's arm. The man reacted this time, turning sharply and giving Kyle and Otis a wide-eyed stare.

He looked genuinely surprised.

"Gabbie said that we should talk to you. Otis is new." As Kyle said those words he watched as the man cocked his head to the side to face him with his right ear.

Was he deaf—partially?

"Okay," the young man said. His voice rang clear and a little loud. It was similar to the voice you'd associate with someone with a lot of confidence, but that didn't look like what was at play here. The man avoided eye contact and didn't look like he was asserting authority. Kyle guessed that a better explanation would be that he was projecting his voice not only for other people to hear but for himself to hear as well.

"You must be Otis," he went on to say, squatting so that he was on the same level as Kyle's son. Kyle wasn't sure whether he should be insulted about the man just going ahead to speak with his son instead of him first, but the direct interaction seemed to corner Otis into talking, and that was a mighty fit.

"Should I just drop his bag and heads out?" Kyle asked, showing that he was still there, watching the two that had drifted on to a discussion about the class pet hamster and what coloring books they were going to be using in class. Kyle wasn't sure how other adults could be genuinely interested in a discussion like this, but he'd watched teachers, his mother—women in general just seem to fall in line with children. Maybe it was an archaic way to think, but Kyle just felt like it was something of a woman's nature. But here, a man was right in front of him, doing everything he couldn't do and had blamed on him not naturally being cut off for it because of his gender.

"Drop them at the cupboards at the end. You can leave now, I think Otis will like it here," the man said, looking at Kyle briefly before turning to smile at Otis who smiled back. He looked excited. His new teacher must have promised him a lot.

"Will do," Kyle said, waving bye at his son after dropping off his bag. He left through the exit but didn't head down the stairs immediately. Debbie was still at the door, but she was alone, so Kyle thought it wouldn't harm to ask her a question.

"Is Chaska deaf?" Kyle asked before Debbie could ask him how things went.

"Yes, fully on the left, partially on the right," she explained, tapping her left and right ears. It looked like it was a situation she was used to explaining.

"Oh."

"Don't worry about it, he's great at reading lips," she said, giving Kyle a little smile. She must have assumed he was worried about how that would play out with the children.

"He's great with kids. Otis is talking to him, and Otis barely talks to strangers," Kyle said, wanting to tell Gabbie, but without directly telling her, that he wasn't worried about Chaska with the kids.

Debbie's smile went from forced to genuine and he nodded in agreement. "Yes, he's wonderful with kids!"

"Have a safe trip now." Kyle heard her voice say as he turned away and started heading down the stairs.

Even when Kyle got home and started emptying out his father's shed, he still couldn't get the interaction between Chaska and his son out of his head. Chaska was a man, and Kyle was a man. What made Chaska better with kids than him?

With a sigh, Kyle wheeled out the last spare tire in the workshop. He was started to think he had run out of excuses for being a shitty parent.