Emma passed Gabe in front of the television to get to her kitchen.

"Gabe, honey? The next time you see me talking to strangers in my underwear, can you say something?"

"Okay. Wait. Is Mr. Garner still a stranger?"

"Yes. Just because he lives with us now doesn't mean we know anything about him. Did you eat your cereal already?"

"No. Can I have Dino Puffs?"

Emma looked at the four open boxes of cereal sitting on top of her fridge. "Have Raisin Bran instead."

"Why? I didn't do anything," he protested.

"It's not a punishment," Emma assured him. "You want a grilled cheese to go with it?"

"For breakfast?"

"I think today should be the last day for dairy and fibre. Just for the next two weeks."

"I don't get it."

"Never mind," Emma said, filling up a bowl with dinosaur shapes and meteor marshmallows. Why should Gabe's little digestive system suffer? She brought it to him and brushed the bed head away from his eyes.

"Listen, kiddo, until we get the bathroom fixed, there are new rules for using it. Number one is I don't want you going in unless you make sure next door's is empty first."

"How am I supposed to check if you won't let me climb up and look?"

"You call out, 'Is anybody in there?' first. If Mr. Garner is in there, you wait."

"What if it's an emergency?"

Emma conjured up the image of an imaginary ancestor confined under a cage-crinoline by seven layers of dress, laces, and boning, asking the same question. "Why don't any of you guys think you can hold it?"

"Sometimes I already waited too long."

"Makes sense, I guess. For an eight-year-old. Okay, if you can't hold it, you just make sure I know you're going in."

"What if you're in there?"

"Well obviously you don't come in if I'm in there. That hasn't changed. Unless it's a real emergency. And I won't be in there if Mr. Garner's on his side because I'm going to ask if he's there first."

"What if I'm in there first?"

"If Mr. Garner, or me, or anyone, asks and you're already in there, you tell everyone to wait till you're done, okay? Even if it's an emergency," she added, cutting off his next question. "And you know what? Maybe from now on, leave the door open."

Gabe shot her some serious side-eye.

"Or, I don't know, close it. But maybe like, half way." He took a scoop of cereal and leaned away from her so he could see the television, her cue to drop the subject. "Better not tell any of this to your therapist," she said half-jokingly.

"Okay."

"But don't tell her I told you not to. You can tell her if you want to, but remember, you don't have to."

"Okay."

She needed coffee.

"Auntie Em?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"I kind of feel like having eggs too."

"Great idea. Let's have eggs and start over."

*****

Waiting for Gabe outside child therapist Mercy Lane's office always made Emma shake her head. If her dentist's office looked anything like it, she never would've waited out a root canal to the point where a bottom molar had to be removed. (She could spare one other, on the opposite side, she told herself. That was it.)

For starters, she was sitting on a sofa shaped like a long, mint-green folded leaf, staring at two child-sized armchairs with arms, backs, and seats like the outward folding petals of an iris and daffodil. Her purse rested at her feet on a giant bean bag turtle. There was also a bean bag unicorn, but he was over by the hopscotch board painted onto the floor. Emma's hopscotch game was still solid, so now if she got up from her leaf it was usually to watch the motorized fish in the pretend koi pond. Two large trees with lavender foliage were painted into opposite corners of the room, branching up into a ceiling canopy. There was a library of colourful children's books and a rack of hobby magazines. What's more, they were new. It was still September and Emma was already reading all about 50 Halloween Treat Hacks she would never try.

She was always a little nervous about what Gabe was telling Mercy in there, but they all agreed a certain level of confidentiality was in Gabe's best interest. Emma would only get very general reports on Gabe's well-being after each session, unless he consented to sharing details Mercy felt were crucial to addressing problem situations. It was a bit of a relief, to be honest, to let someone qualified tag her out and be in charge for a while, but some hours went by more slowly than others.

Emma had been anxious for advice regarding Jake's vanishing act, but now she worried she was going to have to explain to child services how Gabe got his unattended hands on a ten pound drill, and why a stranger had barely-hindered access to their apartment. In a family court, trying to defend not immediately rectifying the situation because she owed money to the landlord and spent five hundred dollars on a bottle of perfume wasn't really going to fly. Also, how was she supposed to justify a gut feeling?: "Your Honour, if I may, Mitch Garner is giving a distinctly folksy, young-old-fart vibe, which is hard enough to take seriously, never mind as a threat."

Outside of being a holier-than-thou know-it-all, with maybe a drinking problem, Mitch Garner wasn't really that bad. If he was, he would've ratted her out last night. Of course, it was impossible to say, now that he'd had a tantrum and lost his leverage, whether he would have eventually tried bribing her or putting the moves on her in exchange for his silence, but she doubted it. A real creep would've made at least one off-colour joke by now.

The more she thought about it, she might even go as far as say he'd been patient with her, but that would be owning that she was what? Overreacting? Overly-sensitive? Quick to jump to conclusions? She knew she'd been short with him a few times in the past, but that was because she was always running into him on her worst days, him and his scrutinizing, disapproving, Why can't you pull yourself together? look that made her want to scream. Maybe, just maybe, some of it had been in her head. Since Sophie's passing, she seemed to float between states of irritation and indifference, except when it came to Gabe. Somewhere in that space, she may have made a hasty judgment call or two. It didn't pain her too much to admit Mitch wasn't totally the massive, crusty, judgey jerk she thought he was, but someone should tell him that's how he came across. Someone other than her.

She got back to her magazine and wondered why anyone would want to make an eyeball appetizer out of olives wrapped in prosciutto, even if they had the patience for it. She tapped her foot on the turtle while a rocket-ship shaped clock ticked away above the giant gumball machine. Finally, the office door opened. Gabe came out and flashed her a little smile as he skipped with his reward token good for one gumball. Mercy stood in the doorway looking perfectly relaxed.

Good, I'm not getting arrested, thought Emma.

"Gabe, I'm going to ask you to wait out here while I have a quick chat with your Aunt, okay?"

Emma followed Mercy's lead into her office. It was decidedly less whimsical, but no less comforting.

"So, big week," Mercy said. She had so much hair on her head. Mounds of bronze and blonde ringlets with the same kink as ramen noodles. When she said "big" Emma's eyes shot up to the top of the portion of it that was clipped up. It was habit to sneak a stare in once a visit. At least it was out of the way now.

"You're telling me," Emma said. "How's he doing?"

"Mostly good."

Emma was relieved. "I try to encourage him to talk, you know, without pushing, but he's so quiet about his feelings."

"That's good. It's important not to force things."

Phew. Hear that, Soph? One point for me.

Mercy went on. "Gabe is very sensitive about the feelings of others, especially those he loves. He's highly empathetic for a boy his age. Sometimes, he may feel it's better to stay quiet than risk hurting anyone by saying something he can't take back."

What did she say? Oh my God, is she saying he hates living with me and doesn't know how to tell me? Sophie! I knew it! I'm a discount-bin guardian. Goodness knows I haven't been trying to take your place because, one, how could I?, and two, yes, I'm a nurturer, but you know I've never had that maternal instinct. I mean, I'm better than an orphanage, but does he know that? Does he even know what an orphanage is because no one seems to talk about them anymore? Does he feel stuck with me, like he's some weird kid with a weird birthmark that everyone's going to point at? And years from now, is he going to track Jake down, all cold and proud and emotionally shrivelled, and point to how I've scarred him for life and say "Look at me dad! You did this to me! You left me with her!"

"It will be a big test for you when he does open up. You're building trust with him, so if you're telling him he can come to you with anything, be prepared for anything. No negative, knee-jerk reactions. When in doubt, remain neutral."

"No problem," Emma said.

Building trust is good.

"I'd actually expect him to start challenging you in more ways soon. He's got some resentment brewing."

"Towards me?"

Emma held her breath until Mercy answered, "No."

"Good," she sighed, mentally high-fiving her sister's spirit. I mean, she could've started with that, am I right?

"But if it starts to feel that way, consider it displaced. He may start acting out, testing your authority essentially to see if you bail and take your love back."

"Never!"

"Of course not, but his father's broken faith with him, so why wouldn't you? You're the one who's there. Who else is he going to take things out on? It's a natural stage in the caregiver/child dynamic, and don't forget you're taking the place of both parents."

Mercy had left the office door open just a little. She reached over to the handle as though preparing to show Emma out and closed it a little more, just shy of shutting it completely. "That actually brings me to the main thing I wanted to talk to you about today. Gabe does need this limbo to end. He needs stability and to not feel like a hot potato that could be thrown to someone else at any time. What are your plans for legal guardianship or custody?"

"I was thinking custody, but I haven't really looked into it. Jake might change his mind."

"I know he's consented to these visits and your temporary guardianship of Gabe. His family has some authority speaking for him, but legally, you're not covered or recognized to make future important decisions for Gabe. What if there were sudden medical decisions to be made, or choices regarding schooling or travel? I read the letter. Is his father really so off-grid that you couldn't get in touch with him quickly if you needed to?"

"I only have guesses as to where he is. His contact numbers and addresses are pretty useless."

"You need a family lawyer. He'll tell you Jake needs to be served, but if he's truly impossible to find you can file for something called a Motion for Substituted Service which means you can leave documents with a relative, Gabe's grandmother, for instance. She'll speak for you. You have your sister's last wishes, and I would be happy to submit my support for you as a parental figure as well."

"You would?" Emma could feel a flash-cry coming. She held the tears back, not wanting to seem like a wreck in front of the therapist. "I'm doing enough?"

"You're doing great," Mercy reassured her.

"Thank you," she said. She was desperate to hug her but held that back too.

"You're welcome. Want a gumball?"

"I might just hang onto the token, if you don't mind."

"You deserve it," Mercy said. "See you next week."

*****

It had become their Saturday routine to follow therapy with a trip to Jackie's so that Gabe could visit his Grandpa Frank. As usual, they first stopped off at a supermarket to pick up groceries for the week. With Mercy's talk of the need for stability, it did make Emma proud that Gabe no longer dragged his feet, tagging along silent and sullen as he had in the first few weeks of living with her. Now it was his job to inspect the egg cartons for broken ones and to pick out his lunch snacks for the week. She'd taught him how to spot a real sale from a fake one by checking the 'was' price, and he never just grabbed one coupon from a display, but a whole stack which he then stuffed in her purse. Bonding as a team was more satisfying to Emma than anything these days. The two-for-one Greek yogurts were just a perk. As they walked down the aisle with dishwashing liquid and paper towels, she spotted those adhesive wall velcros for mounting pictures. She bought the bigger set with extras she could give to Mitch for hanging their pillowcases.

Jackie and Emma sat down to soup in the kitchen while Gabe sat on the window bench next to his grandfather's recliner. Frank would sit in his chair and stare out the window all day, sometimes listening to music or the television. Now firmly in the grip of dementia, he was mostly non-verbal, only sometimes a song or an old jingle would come on, and the spell of his disease would break long enough for him to sing a few words . That afternoon, Frank's voice rose up to sing "Yeah, yeah, yeah," along with The Beatles. The look on Jackie's face was always the same. It was a look of realizing someone she loved was home at the door, and when the moment passed, as it always did, instead of the gloom of being mistaken or finding the doorway empty again, she seemed grateful for the visit, no matter how brief.

Later, Gabe asked Emma if his grandfather could hear him.

"Of course he can hear you."

"Yeah, but does he understand what I'm saying?"

"Maybe not if you're talking about that Titans card game thing. I don't even get that and I read the instructions three times."

"But like, everything else?"

"I think so. Somewhere in there, I think he does. Maybe it's like trying to make out something coming from another room. Or something somebody yells from across a cliff or a bridge. Maybe he only understands bits of it."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"But what if he does, and what if no one talked to him because they thought he couldn't possibly?"

"That would be scary."

"And lonely. So even if we're wrong, there's no harm in trying."

"Even if it just makes us feel better?"

"Especially if it makes us feel better."

*****

With her groceries loaded in Jackie's car, and despite all her earlier strategizing to slow down their digestive systems, Emma had a craving for something greasy for dinner. She got Jackie to pull over at a drive-thru as she drove them home so she could pick up burgers and onion rings with an extra side of fries.

Upstairs, Emma set Gabe up at the table and started unpacking the groceries. "You can start without me," she said, putting only what needed to be refrigerated or frozen away before heading to the bathroom.

She stopped at the door. "Is anybody here?" she called out. There was no answer and the light was off at Mitch's. "Is anyone in there? " she tried again, just to be sure. The coast was clear, so she made herself comfortable.

She didn't usually take her phone in with her, but it was in her back pocket. Staring at it now on her counter top, she gave into the temptation to pick it up and have a little scroll through the headlines, only to have the moment interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a sliding zipper and a seemingly endless splashing coming from the other side of where her curtain should've been.

She clenched her fists and shook her head. "HELLO! I'm in HERE!" she shouted.

She heard a small thud and loud tsk.

"Are you crazy? You scared the shit outta me!" Mitch yelled.

"You were supposed to check if anyone was in here first. I was!"

"Well I would never have known you were there if you didn't feel you had to announce yourself. You just can't jump out at a guy and yell 'surprise!' while he's zipping up!"

"It was your idea! That was the deal!"

"All right, all right. Sheesh. It's just a hell of thing to get used to."

"Don't sheesh me. The potential for dying of embarrassment is off the charts here."

"So next time I'm on the can, I'll hum. Are you done?"

"None of your business!"

"I meant with the lecture." He muttered something under his breath. The only word she could make out was "uptight". It was enough.

"You know what, you're right. I am overreacting. Open concept bathrooms are a thing. Dignity is overrated. Forget I said anything. If you could find it in your big, strong, logical man-heart to take pity on a poor, prudish, hysterical woman and check to see if she's in the vicinity before dropping your drawers, I would really, really appreciate it."

It took about a minute of silence to realize he'd probably left at the top of her rant, and without even washing his hands.

*****

After dinner, Gabe excused himself from the table to get his tablet from his room. As he headed down the hall, he smelled burgers again, but better. He smelled bacon and onions too. It reminded him of summer barbeques, and it was coming from Mr. Garner's apartment.

He stood on his tip toes to yell in the hole. "Hey!" He couldn't see much, but he yelled it again when he thought he heard footsteps.

"Hey yourself!" Mitch answered. "Is that any way to get someone's attention?"

"What else would you say 'Hey!' for?"

"I guess you have a point."

"Are you cooking over there?"

"Climb up there so I can see you."

"I'm not supposed to."

"Then stand further back in the hall so I'm not talking to a cowlick." Gabe did. "Yes, I'm cooking. I'm making cheeseburgers."

"We just had cheeseburgers from Grady's. They didn't smell like yours though."

"Fast food can hit the spot, but there's nothing like homemade. Young man, you are smelling fresh, one hundred-percent ground chuck, not lean, because if you're going to do it, do it right, grilled to medium, about to be covered in crispy bacon and sautéed onions. When someone says, 'why does this taste so good?', the answer is always butter, but when someone says 'why does it smell so good?', that answer is always onions."

"We had onion rings."

"You did, huh? That sounds fine too. Did you eat them all?"

"No," Gabe said.

"Go get me one. Check with your aunt so she doesn't flip."

Gabe did not check Emma other than to ask if it was okay he take one of her onion rings because he'd finished his. He put it in his empty container and hurried back to Mitch. There was no way to pass it over but climb up on the counter. Gabe figured he could get away with it because once Emma was zoned out on her phone it took a lot to get her attention.

Mitch was there waiting with a spoonful of sautéed onions.

"Careful kid," he said. They both stretched their arms out and made the exchange.

The onion ring was already cold and tasted like greasy cardboard. He looked at Gabe. His face was unreadable. "Well, what do you think? There's a little barbecue sauce in there too."

"Slippery, but okay." Gabe said. "I liked mine better."

"What do you know? Gimmie my spoon back. You licked it clean I see."

"I said it was good," Gabe said, climbing down.

"Everyone's a critic."

Gabe smiled and jumped up to say, "See ya!"

"See ya, kid," Mitch winked, and watched him run back down the hall.