"Mooom-" my kid whined outside of my door. I looked around the state of my bedroom- once Miriam's room, and blanched. I was up to my ears in paperwork. I could fill a swimming pool with paperwork. Maybe even one shaped like a guitar.

"Yea, bud?" I replied, airily, glad I left the lock on because my kid did not need to get ideas about what was acceptable room cleanliness. Not that I was particularly awesome at keeping anything tidy…things just never seemed to end up where they belonged. Maybe I had seen Toy Story one too many times, but I wasn't entirely convinced that they didn't move of their own discretion.

Whatever Luke told me in response was garbled by either the wooden door or him being seven, or perhaps it was the papers swallowed it alive.

"Save it for the papers, kiddo-" I tip-toed over the piles of papers, somewhat worried they might conceal some sort of small animal, "I'm," I opened the door, "here. What's up?"

My kid had slumped shoulders. "I'm bored."

I slumped on the door frame. I was wearing grey cropped leggings and a thick knitted sweater I found in the back of Dad's old closet. I had it rolled up ridiculously, but it was about 6 sizes too large still.

I wanted to agree with him, that I was bored too, because I was…paperwork sucks. It was my career but it didn't make it suck less. But I had a lot to do…

But he was making a sad face.

"Alright," I shut my door behind me, "what are we doing?"

"I dunno." He shrugged.

Kids were occasionally infuriating.

"Girl," I had my hand on Luke's shoulder as we walked past the shop. The girl was called out by some strange woman who was arranging flowers on a stoop, surrounded by black containers containing flowers. I turned around, while, perhaps, on the inside, objecting to being referred to as girl. Had an offspring, in my hand, pretty sure that put me in woman category.

"You're wearing a sweater," she commented. She was not, she was wearing a dress that might very well have been made of bed sheets. I wasn't sure, obviously, I didn't make the dress.

"I am." I nodded.

"It is July."

"It is."

She squinted at me, "that sweater of yours is making me hot just looking at it."

I tilted my head, "have you thought maybe it's not my sweater?" The dress could very easily be flannel. Flannel bed sheets. Ugly ones.

She continued to squint at me…I wasn't sure if that was my queue to leave in this woman's bizarre play, but Luke was curiously watching me.

"Well, we're gonna go-"

"What's your name?"

"My name?" I exchanged a glance with Luke. "Uh-"

"You live here."

"…yes?" I regretted the messy bun. I had all these loose hairs flopping into my eyes.

"I can tell. You walk like you know where you're going." She stood, with a little bit of difficulty, and plopped the flowers into a bin. "You didn't tell me the name."

"…you didn't tell me yours," I replied defensively, crossing my arms. She was giving me a look like I was an idiot. Luke grabbed my sleeve. I glanced at him, then followed his point with my eyes…

There was a large sign over the shop that said VITELLO'S…

"Helga Pataki," I replied with a sigh.

"You had a little brother?!" She asked, wrinkling her face up.

I raised an eyebrow, "no," I ruffled Luke's hair, "but I had a son."

I was preparing myself for the judge-y look that was inevitably going to be gracing the older woman's face. It was a look I grew used to, but not fondly. Like the familiarity of that slushy ish that covered the ground moments after the winter snow fell…I knew of it, well even, but my endearment for it grew not at all.

She, however, was looking at us with a nod. "Tell your mother I said hello," I had no idea Miriam knew…anyone, frankly, "and come by on your way back, pick up some flowers." She opened her door, "housewarming gift."

"How do you know we haven't been here for years?"

She looked back with a sly smile, "I know."

"Why does everyone here," Luke asked as we shoved open the door to Bigal's…which was supposed to be Big Al's but Al ran out of room on the sign… and now it sounded vaguely Italian, "know you?'

I rubbed my hand on Luke's shoulder, "the walls have ears," I muttered to him conspiratorially. "And we're in a much smaller town than San Francisco now," I admitted as I led him to the counter that we ate at too often. That I had since I was little…considering there was rarely a homecooked meal available at my house.

I rapped my knuckles on the counter, "hey, A.J!" We learned quickly that Al's son, AJ had taken over most of the business that summer. "Are you sleeping back there!?"
Luke shoved his face in his hands, but I had a right to embarrass him as his mother. I got curious looks from a family sitting a table, but the truckers sitting at the end of the counter didn't look up at all.

"Pataki," A.J. appeared through the swinging doors, heavy set and wearing a dirty hoodie, "you offer a man no rest." He had a close shaved head but a good amount of facial hair, as if all the hair on his head decided it wanted a new view and migrated.

"Tell me about it," Luke mumbled into his hands.

"You know, I rarely," I pinched Luke's ear, "get complaints." I winked at A.J. who put a menu in front of us. I stared blankly at him. "We come here maybe every other day."

"Sometimes every day," Luke added.

"And you insist," I shoved the menu "on continuing this charade."

"You know," A.J. leaned on the counter, "I hold out hope that one day you will eat something other than cheeseburgers…"

"Why?" Luke asked.

"It's futile." I added.

"You know," A.J. snapped up the menu, threw it back in it's little place. It was nice, I was glad the menu had a little home. It could use curtains. I made a mental note to suggest curtains for the menu house one day. He grabbed a pot of coffee from behind him and made his way to fill the cups of the men with the flannels and the hats, "we sell salads."

"Burgers have lettuce on them." I reminded him, "if you squint, it's almost a salad."

"A less sad salad."

"No one knows anything about nutrition," I rolled my eyes, "I promise you we eat veggies. We try and do the food pyramid they keep changing when Luke brings home a new one from school, I had an apple today, God even knows what cholesterol is, can I have my cheeseburger now?"

A.J. rolled his eyes as he walked backwards into the kitchen, "can mine have bacon?" Luke called after him.

I ruffled his hair, "repeat after me: veggies are good."

"Veggies are good," he repeated dutifully.

"Well, look at that. I'm practically mother of the year," I pulled my ringing cellphone out of my bag. It was a patchwork mess I may or may not have purchased from the wife of a vagabond at a truck stop when I was really tired. Whatever, a purse is a purse.

Mike's name was on my phone again. I hit the little red ignore call button, ignored the judging look my phone gave me, and tossed it on the counter.

Then I got to look at my son's little judging face.

"Mom, who are you ignoring? Is it Mum-mum again?" He had a spectacularly pouty face on. It could be patented. If they could bottle it, it might end wars.

I sipped my coffee. "I promise it's not."

"Okay." He said quietly. He unwrapped his place setting. He observed his fork curiously. "What's a payphone?"

I wondered how his mind worked. Also where he learned of payphone's existences. And if there were any functioning payphones left in America.

I opened my mouth to answer when my phone rang AGAIN. I was going to reject the call, but Luke was giving me a look over his fork that he was still examining the chips in. I, with great annoyance, answered my phone

"You are an EXTREMELY persistent man, do you know that?!"

"I…" the voice that did not belong to the man I thought it did laughed, "I am?"

"Arnold," I growled, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Calling my friend's cell-phone?"

"Ah, well…ACH, ugh, I'm-"

"That's an interesting collection of noises you have there."

"Shut up," I told him. Luke stuck out his money hand. "Shut up is not a swear." I told him grumpily. "Except to you, it is to you."

"That's a double standard."

"Eight year olds do not get to understand that concept." I told him with frustration. I sighed aggressively, then said to Arnold, "why are you calling me, other than to observe my sparkling personality?"

"Guess who I just ran into?"

"A stegosaurus."

"No."

"Enya?"

"No."

"That dog that can skateboard?"

"No."

"Well, we've officially run out of people whom I would be remotely interested in so I don't understand-"

"Phoebe."

"…I know of her."

"Phoebe and friend,"

"Ahhh…" I sipped on the coffee. "Okay, you've got my attention."

"I have it on good authority that they will be going out tonight…"

"Really?"

"Fancy a night at the fair?"

"So, like a stakeout?"

"Or…a night with our children at a fair where we may or may not run into Phoebe and her significant other."

"So, we can't sit in a van filled with electronics and peer through windows?"

"Neither of us own a van filled with electronics."

"Can I bring a flashlight and a laser pointer?"

"I'm sure the fair will be perfectly well lit."

"Can I at least wear black?"

"Have you really ever taken my opinion into account on what you wear?"

Oh buddy, I thought to myself, you have no idea.

"5 p.m.?" He asked, "meet at mine?"

"Sounds good," I sipped again, "I will supply the ski masks and black face paint for war stripes."

"I don't think you have any idea what stakeouts are actually like," he snorted, "see you, Helga."

"WELL," I said to Luke as I hung up, "I have good new-" my phone rang again.

I made sure I actually checked the number on my caller I.D. before yelling again.

"MIKE, I KNOW. YOU'RE CALLING ME. I'LL TALK TO YOU WHEN I TALK TO YOU-"

"Helga, I-"

"HAVEN'T YA EVER GONE ON A JOB INTERVIEW!? DON'T CALL ME, I'LL CALL YOU, EVER HEARD OF IT!?" Luke had been my son and no one else's for a solid 8 years… I wasn't sure I was completely prepared for him to be anyone else's. I wasn't prepared for a lot of things.

"You're being insan-"

"MY PEOPLE WILL GET BACK TO YOU-" A.J. was standing in front of us suddenly, behind the counter. He had his insanely bushy eyebrows raised nearly into his hairline. "VIVA LA VIDA, OR WHATEVER, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, GOOD BYE." I hung up. A.J.'s eyebrows remained in his hairline.

"WHAT!?" I said, maybe yelled, probably yelled, at his raised eyebrows. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO ADD YOURSELF TO MY LIST OF-" I shook my phone towards the aforementioned eyebrows, "GENTLEMAN CALLERS?!"

"I have your burger." He raised his hand with the burger.

"Ah, then you-" I moved my napkin so he would have space to set them down, "you can be my only gentleman caller. I'll let my Mama know that I am a pretty girl."

"You are a bizarre girl," The bell behind them rang, and the truckers were out the door, "and you scare my customers away."

"You love me," he was shoving his way back into the kitchen, "YOU SHOULD BUY CURTAINS FOR YOUR MENUS!"

"I'M NOT GOING TO PRETEND TO KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS."

"SO," I said to Luke, picking up my burger, "feel like hanging out with Matt tonight?"

Luke was already half way through the burger, "yes, please." He said after swallowing.

It took me being at a small town fair to realize that there are likely more things to hate about small town fairs as there are to enjoy about them. I was currently watching four year olds wiggle in a gazebo because their parents thought if they bought them $40 tap shoes and a $60 recital dress that would buy them the ability to tap dance. And not what I was watching, ineffective wiggling. The fair was in the vacant lot of the shopping mall, and there were rides and things and far too many noises. And so far, not nearly enough Phoebes.

Rosie, however, was wiggling in place in front of us. Arnold had his hands in his pockets, watching her with an amused lilt. It was almost cute enough to not be nauseated by the smell of fried foods and the enormous amount of sweat in the air.

"Do you," I leaned down to her, "want to dance, Ms. Rosie?"

She put her thumb in her mouth, and then quickly took it out, and she nodded.

"Well, I can't dance…but I am a good wiggler," I offered her my arms. "Shall we?"

She did a hoppy little jump into my arms, and I hoisted her into the air with a little bit of effort.

"Mom, no one else is dancing." Luke grabbed my sweater.

"Luke, babe, if I teach you only one thing," I booped my finger on Rose's nose. She giggled. Her hair was curly and crazy, all over her face. I wanted to soothe it away, but I figured it had already made a happy home there, "it's to not care what anyone else is doing."

They were playing a song called Boogie Shoes, which was an apt name for the song. I began to rock back and forth, swaying Rosie back and forth as she giggled. I giggled too. My dance moves morphed. I was doing some kind of odd amorphous wiggle of the pony, but we were laughing.

A hand tugged on my sweater.

"Can I," a nervous Matt was looking at me. He looked back to his Dad, who nodded at him quickly and mouthed the words he wanted to say, "cut in?"

I set Rosie down so they could dance. Matt grabbed Rose's hands, and did a dance move surprisingly close to the Twist. I stepped back, watching them with an amused grin. Luke stood by Arnold's pants, an odd look on his small features. His eyes looked bigger and bluer than they normally did.

I was going to ask him if he wanted to dance, even though I knew he'd turn my down, when Rose broke out from her brother, continuing to wiggle on her own so she wasn't holding his hands. She seemed to hold hers out towards Luke, and Matt turned around. He waved his hands encouragingly, for him to join them.

He looked, for a moment, like he wanted to protest, like his mother would have at his age. But then his face broke out into a broad smile, and he ran forward, to his friends. It was like I had managed to make a copy of me and we weren't similar at all. A failed clone.

I shook her head, laughing at him, at the fair, at the guy in high school that was for some reason dressed like an ice cream come a couple of yards away. I laughed at it all, and my phone buzzed in her pocket.

"Shall we," Arnold's voice came in by my ear, a warm hand on my back. I could barely notice it, I was too busy reading the text on her screen. "What?" he must've noticed my face.

I, wordless, held out my phone to him, so he could read the texts for him to read. It was from Mike.

"Hey, Helga.

It was driving me crazy not letting you know. You haven't changed, just so you know.

I'm sorry, I wasn't…

Nevermind.

Look, the test came back negative.

Luke isn't mine."

Our dancing had created a small sea of dancing, parents with their kids, couples with each other. They swayed clumsily, in and out of each other. An uncoordinated sea for an uncoordinated world.

"I…" Arnold clicked my phone shut quietly, "if not Mike, then…" he spoke so slowly, so gently. He grabbed my hand, plopping the phone back in it. "Who?"

"I'm…" I swallowed, watching my son dance the best way an 8 year old knew how. The cause of the sea, in it's truth. I was not the kind of woman who danced in public places until Luke. "I'm not sure."

a/n hey y'all

in other news .. i've been like annoyingly hard on myself lately. i'm thinking about moving this fic and a couple others to just my tumblr or maybe another platform...i haven't made up my mind yet, and ill certainly try and let people know where i'm positng. but if you'd really like to be in the update loop of where i'm gonna post...let me know in someway, reach out on here or on my tumblr which is ps118daily.

xx, k.