Why?
(A response to the prompt "curious." Post-war story.)
Sometimes it seemed like Erin's "why?" phase was never going to end.
"Why do I have to eat my vegetables?" "Why do bees sting?" "Why do I have to go to bed now?"
It was enough to drive B.J. to drink. Oh, wait… too late.
And on this particular morning, his daughter was in especially fine form. In overdrive. A veritable question machine.
"Hawkeye, why are we going this way?"
"Because it's the quickest way."
"Why do we need to go quick?"
"Because your daddy didn't drag his lazy ass out of bed on time this morning and now we're running behind."
"Why didn't daddy get up on time?"
B.J. tried not to be jealous that she asked Hawkeye her questions more often than she asked him. Or that they sometimes talked about him as though he weren't right there in the car with them.
Hawkeye replied, "Because your daddy's the type of person who likes to sleep late even when he knows he shouldn't."
B.J. felt compelled to add his two cents to the conversation. "Meanwhile, your other daddy is acting like he's always Mr. Sunshine in the morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, when I think all of us know that's not quite true."
That shut everyone up. Momentarily, anyway.
Then, from the back seat: "Hawkeye, what does bright-eyed and bushy-tailed mean?"
And it just went on and on as B.J. drove to Peg's house, where they would drop Erin off and finally be free of the "why" monster for a couple of days.
Once the little urchin was deposited safely in her mother's arms, B.J. got back into the car and nearly collapsed behind the wheel. He looked over at Hawkeye. "It's not even 9 o'clock, and I'm wiped out. Don't all those questions—those relentless questions—drive you nuts?"
Hawkeye just gave a shrug. "It's normal, Beej. She's curious. She wants to know everything. It's healthy."
B.J. leaned back and shut his eyes, just taking a moment. "Peace and quiet," he said. Hawkeye only laughed softly.
After a time, B.J. started the car and headed back to Mill Valley.
It was as if the weekend with her mother was merely a pause in the action. When B.J. and Hawkeye picked her up on Monday, Erin almost immediately started in on the questions again. Not even five minutes away from Peg's house, she absently kicked the back of B.J.'s seat and said, "It rained all day yesterday and I couldn't play outside and so we played games, but really I wanted to be outside. Hawkeye, why do we have to have rain?"
"So flowers and grass and things can grow."
Another kick. "Can't flowers and grass and things grow with sun?"
"They need both."
"But why?"
"Do you think you could live if you never drank water?"
She gave this some thought. "I don't know." She sounded positively fascinated by the idea. "Can I try?"
Before Hawkeye could even say a word, B.J. barked, "No you cannot try." He took a deep breath, and then added, in a calmer voice, "Trust me, Erin, I'm a doctor, I know these things. You need water to live. So do the plants. So sometimes we get rain."
"Oh" came the small voice from the back seat.
"Do you think you can stop kicking the back of my seat, sweetie?"
She stopped. "OK."
They actually drove in silence for a few minutes before Erin piped up again. "Hawkeye, why is daddy so grumpy?"
B.J. would've shut his eyes out of frustration had he not been driving.
"I don't know, Erin," Hawkeye said, a teasing lilt to his voice. He turned from looking at their daughter in the back seat to face B.J. "Why are you so grumpy, Daddy?"
There was the cutest smile on Hawkeye's face, and Erin was giggling at the playfulness in Hawkeye's tone, and B.J. suddenly realized his crankiness was ridiculous. His kid was just being a kid, and his partner was being patient and loving, and how on earth could any of that be annoying?
"I'm sorry, guys," he said, making eye contact with Erin in the rear-view mirror. "I promise to stop being grumpy starting right now. I'm with my two favorite people in the universe and there's nothing at all to be grumpy about."
Hawkeye leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and—amazingly—what followed for miles was blissful silence. Except for the occasional kick at the back of B.J.'s seat.
Fortunately, they heard the pitter-patter of Erin feet a few seconds before the bedroom door was flung open, and they had time to hastily cover themselves with the blankets, or Erin might have had plenty of things to ask "why" about.
"Are you getting out of bed soon?" she asked instead of a polite "Good morning, Daddies," or an even more polite "I'm sorry for disturbing you."
Underneath the covers, B.J. disentangled from Hawkeye with as little fuss as possible. "In a minute, Erin." Hawkeye shifted and body parts brushed against each other, and it took all of B.J.'s concentration to remember what the question was. "Uh, do you think you can go into the kitchen and sit at the table and wait patiently while we get dressed?"
She shrugged. "I guess. Can I have pancakes for breakfast?"
Hawkeye mumbled, "Mmmm," but B.J. wasn't sure if that was in reference to the suggestion of pancakes, or something else entirely.
B.J. looked at Erin, tilted his head. "I think we can arrange that, yes."
"Goody!" she turned to go, but Hawkeye stopped her.
"Erin?" His voice was husky. B.J. recognized it as passion but Erin was likely to interpret it as sternness.
"Huh?"
"In the future, please don't come into our room unless you knock first, OK?"
B.J. could've predicted the response. "But why?"
"Because sometimes grownups need privacy."
"But why?"
Hawkeye opened his mouth, and B.J. said, "Careful, Hawk."
So Hawkeye paused for a long moment, crafting a suitable reply, and B.J. appreciated the restraint. Finally Hawk said, "Because it's our house and we make the rules. When you get older and have your own place, then you can make up the rules."
"I can't wait!" she declared, and stalked out of the room.
B.J. pulled Hawkeye close, nuzzling his neck, laughing softly. "Oh man," he murmured. "Neither can I."
