Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and do not have permission to use their names. No disrespect is intended.

Symbolic

Life on the road is tough because it takes you away from home, and contributes to you missing a lot of things you would just as soon not miss. Child rearing for example. I didn't miss the midnight feedings, but now that Ash was beginning to string words together and explore his sense of self somewhat, I missed giving over that right solely to Jess. Even though it was a strain on her to travel across the country with a not-quite two-year-old, I still asked her to make the trek on occasion.

Right now was one of those times. Dates piled up on top of one another until my body didn't know if it was coming or going. Trips to the Far East were particularly exhausting. I couldn't ask either one of them to endure that hardship, but I did ask her to meet me in California the night I got back. To soften that blow a little, I arranged for her to have a morning of luxury, and I stayed in the room with Ash.

Being that I was already tired, I should have known he would wear me out without too much effort. I prayed he wouldn't get himself in trouble as I flopped back on the bed. Just five minutes of shut-eye, that's all I needed. I could hear him singing happily to himself and his stuffed bear on the floor by my side.

Five minutes, enough time to doze off. Fortunately, he's a curious cuss, and before I knew it he had climbed up on the bed beside me and was playing with my hands. I watched him from between mostly closed eyes. Before I could register his intention, he bent over and spit right on my hand.

"Ash!" I sat up, the glob of saliva ran down my finger on to the back of my hand. "No, no! Don't spit on daddy!" I wiped the back of my hand on the bedspread, grabbed him around the middle and pulled him up into my lap.

"Daddy write," he said, his small face fixed in a frown. Toddlers have this built in defense mechanism in that they're cute, and they say cute things. He didn't quite have all the sounds down yet, and when he said 'daddy' he always managed to leave the middle part of it out so it came out sounding like "daa-eee."

I looked down at my relatively spit-free hand, the ink vivid against pale flesh.

"No daddy," he said with a belligerent look on his face. "No write."

I smiled, and leaned back against the headboard with him cradled in my lap. "No goofy," I said softly, "I didn't write on my hand."

He popped a finger in his mouth and looked up at me expectantly.

"It's called a tattoo," I continued. I held my fingers up so we could both look at them. I suppose it is traditional to have a Celtic design tattooed on your finger as a wedding band, but I'm not a traditional kind of guy. On this recent jaunt to Japan, I had found an artist to tattoo a Kanji script, a symbol of undying affection, on the finger where I normally wore my wedding band.

Ash reached up, his chubby fingers closed around my slim ones, and I winced as he squeezed. "Ow...no squeeze." Sometimes I had to come down to his level so he could understand me. "A tattoo," I continued when he released my hand, "Is like a permanent drawing. It won't wash off, I'll have it on there forever."

His finger slid from his mouth, and he said, "Ash get."

I smiled, "No goofy, Ash can't get a tattoo. Not until you're much older, and then you have to get Mommy's permission," I smiled ruefully. "Mommy doesn't like it very much."

No matter how I'd spun the idea, she didn't seem to like it. I wasn't sure if the issue was that I had done it without telling her first, or that she suspected there was some other significance. After showing her the scrap of paper with the symbols, and their meanings as translated by Masanori, she had begun to come around. "Eternity," that was what I had settled on. Two symbols.

I kissed the top of Ash's head, and he slid down, his ear against my stomach. My inner clock was still out of whack, sleep when I should be awake, and eat when everyone else was asleep. Just as he settled, and I hoped that maybe it was naptime, my stomach growled with hunger.

Immediately he raised his head and looked up at me and the expression on his face made me chuckle. Eyes wide open, he looked from me to my belly and back. Cautiously, he put his head down again, and I obliged by making it growl again. I was hungry.

"Burbly gurgly," he said, the same look of wonder on his face.

"Stomach talk," I replied. "It means it wants a cheeseburger, and french fries, and a big chocolate shake."

He clambered up, and tried to press his ear to his own stomach, and rolled over almost falling off the edge of the bed. I reached out to grab him before he toppled over the edge, hauled him up as I stood. I hoisted him up, and pressed my ear to his tummy.

"Ah HA!" I said triumphantly. "Your belly wants mac and cheese and milk!"

That elicited a giggle. I set him up on my shoulders, grabbed my wallet, and headed out the door. From the coffee shop in the lobby, I'd be able to intercept Jess when she returned from the spa.

I settled him into a booster seat, and let him beat on the table happily with a spoon. The waitress returned with some crackers, and a cup of coffee, I smiled my thanks. Fortunately the restaurant was mostly empty. Too late for breakfast, too early for lunch, the racket wasn't likely to bother anyone except me.

"Da da da," Ash's voice mixed with the sound of the spoon banging against the table.

Because the restaurant wasn't busy, the food came quickly. I ate the burger, and started on the fries, Ash ended up smearing most of the cheesy macaroni on his face but did manage to get some of it in his mouth. Before I could stop him, he picked up the spoon again and began to bang it in the bowl, sending the remnants of his meal flying.

"Whoa there pardner."

I don't know how he does it, a man of his size, but David always manages to sneak up on me, and he always manages to get Ash to settle down. He slid into the booth and held his hand out, Ash happily handed him the spoon. "Good man." He winked and set the spoon down on the table, and turned to look at me.

"How do you always have the magic touch?" I asked, and pushed my plate aside.

He shrugged, and leaned back against the booth. "It's either experience, or intimidation. Maybe a mixture of both."

I leaned back and watched them shamelessly flirt with each other. Ash insisted on listening to David's stomach, to see if he was hungry too. After careful inspection, it was decided that he wasn't, so he just ordered coffee.

As the waitress poured it, he looked across the table at me, brow arched. "So?"

Before I could answer, Jess swept into the restaurant, glowing and beautiful from her morning at the spa. She smiled at David, spared me a small kiss, and tutted at Ash.

"Join us for coffee?" David asked as he slid from the booth to give her room to reach in and extract Ash from the booster seat.

"No, thanks," she said with a smile and a significant look at me. "I better get his lordship upstairs and bathed."

That was my cue, the interrupted conversation would have to be finished later. I slid from the booth, watching as Jess bore Ash away across the room.

Quick as lightning, and with nearly imperceptible grace, David took my hand. He handed me a small tube of Neosporin.

"That will take the sting out," he said softly, and swept his thumb gently over the new tattoo.

I only had a moment, but that was all it took. I leaned in and whispered, "No it won't, but you can do that later."

With a wink, I turned and walked from the room. Nothing would de-stabilize the foundation of my relationship with Jess. That wasn't his aim, and it wasn't mine either.

It's like I said life on the road is tough. Sometimes it's all in how you deal with it.

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