Sometimes it's better to be upfront from the start, so everything stays more under control. Ah, if only it were that easy.
Two
I tightened my hug, realizing that by now nearly everyone there was staring at me. Okaaay, I admit thinking ahead isn't exactly my strong suit. In my mind, all I was going to do was save the kid being bullied, and then... well, who knew? I'd improvise.
Now I was stuck with a strange child who apparently thought I was his mother. What was I supposed to do? I had no idea. When I looked around, there was no sign of the child's father or mother.
"Mom... thirsty."
Damn it. Was this kid expecting me to breastfeed him? Did children his age still drink breast milk? I knew absolutely nothing about taking care of kids. I'd only ordered an iced cappuccino because money was tight. There was no way I could give the little guy coffee. Maybe I should just buy him some bottled water. Which meant I'd have to walk home instead of taking the rideshare motorbike I'd been imagining all this time.
I went back to my seat. Yep. The ice had already melted. There went the moment of zen I'd been looking forward to. The moment when I could sit peacefully and enjoy my drink without a crisis coming at me.
I waved to call over a server and ordered a bottle of water. The kid still wouldn't let go of me, so I sat him on my lap. "Just a second, okay? I'm ordering your water first." I had no idea how much he understood, but he'd stopped crying and was mumbling something incomprehensible while trying to grab my cappuccino glass.
"No, sweetie, this is mine." I rummaged through my bag and found my coin purse—which was empty, sob—and let the kid hold it and play with the zipper. A little while later, the bottled water I ordered arrived.
"Can you drink by yourself? Or do you want a straw?" Did kids his age still drink from bottles with nipples? I opened the water bottle and brought it to the child's mouth. Luckily, he drank without any trouble.
"Hungry," he said next, and I groaned. I seriously didn't have any money left. What was I supposed to do? Take him home and feed him in my boarding-house room? I could get accused of kidnapping a child.
Just then, someone suddenly burst into the café, calling out in a panic.
"Diva! Diva! Divaaa!"
The kid on my lap whimpered and tried to pull away from me. I narrowed my eyes as I watched the man who had just come in. Was he the kid's father? What a completely irresponsible father, I thought.
Actually, the man was pretty good-looking. Old—but in my seventeen-year-old eyes, anyone eighteen or older was old. Maybe he was eight years older than me. Maybe the age gap wasn't quite that big; I wasn't sure. His hair was messy, and his face wasn't dazzlingly handsome, but it had a charm of its own. He was tall and lean, at least six feet tall by my estimate. Maybe taller. Yeah, definitely taller. He wore the typical outfit of a middle-aged office worker: dark blue slacks, a white shirt, and a vest the same color as his pants. Like a server's uniform, I thought, except the clothes were tailored to fit and clearly high-quality.
"Dad!" Diva shot from my lap toward him. They hugged tightly, and he easily lifted Diva with one arm before striding toward me.
I swallowed. I didn't know whether he was going to blame me or what. I felt like yelling at him for letting his child wander around unsupervised, but for some reason, with him standing in front of me, my tongue refused to speak.
"Mom!" The child pointed at me excitedly.
The man froze for a moment before sitting down across from me. He smiled at the child he called Diva while patting the top of her head.
"She looks like Mom, huh? But she's not Mom," the man replied. I liked his voice. It was soothing and clear.
"Mom!" The child insisted, squirming and wriggling free of her father's arms before burying herself against me. "Mom!"
I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Uh..." I said. "Is this your kid, Uncle?" I asked, trying to dispel the awkwardness.
"Uncle?" He gaped at me. "Why are you calling me Uncle? How old are you, anyway?"
Why were both this father and child so annoying? I finished my cappuccino in one gulp, then flashed him a wide smile. "Nice to meet you, Uncle," I said challengingly—because, well, a man his age with a toddler deserved to be called Uncle by a girl my age—while staring into his pair of light brown eyes. "My name is Stella. Stella Splendida. But sometimes people call me Miss Disaster. I'm only seventeen, so I think I have every right to call you Uncle."
He immediately burst out laughing. For a long time, too, until he started coughing. The kid even stared at her father in confusion. Then she busied herself playing with my coin purse, perfectly comfortable beside me.
"Miss Disaster, huh?"
"I figure it's better to know sooner rather than later. People call me that because... I seem to get into trouble a lot."
"Hmm." He chuckled again. "I'm only twenty-eight, you know."
"Wow, Uncle, honestly, that's older than I expected." Crap, crap, crap, why did I say it so bluntly? That was so rude. My mouth really had no filter.
"How old did you think I was?"
"Well... twenty-five, maybe. Twenty-six at the oldest." Since I'd already started, I might as well be completely honest.
"I have a youthful face."
Damn, he actually smiled. He wasn't angry at all. I was a little relieved. Phew, thank goodness. I'd thought I was about to get myself into trouble. "What's Uncle's name?"
"Why don't you call me something else? It feels weird being called Uncle like that. My name is Fazio Mahawira. Just call me Zio."
Zio! Wait, wait... I dug through the random memories in my head. "Isn't Zio Italian for uncle? So it's the same thing. I can call you Uncle or Zio."
"That's the name I like, even though... yes, it does mean uncle in Italian. For a seventeen-year-old, your knowledge isn't bad."
I hated when people talked to me like that. You know? "For a seventeen-year-old, you're pretty smart." Or, "For a woman, you're pretty impressive." As my emotions churned inside me, and I was sure I was about to attract another disaster, the tiny child on my lap suddenly looked up at me.
"Don't be mad, Mom," she said.