Harold gives my back a pat the way I think a father would. "Let's go get that battery."

#

The van starts up with only minimal resistance. Harold lets the hood fall shut and circles around to the open driver's side door where I'm half-on the seat and staring at the dashboard like I'm expecting the engine to explode.

"Easy as pie," Harold says, cleaning his hands on some wet-wipes he got at the auto store. "Should be good now. If it starts having problems turning over, let me know and we'll get it into a mechanic. Might be the alternator."

I have no idea what an alternator is or does. Some guy I am. I can name every Top 100 band from the 1960s and tell someone how to beat the final boss of almost every RPG that came out within the last three years, but I never knew before today how to change a car battery.

"I meant what I said, though, about trading this junker in." Harold gives the van a once-over and tugs down his sleeves.

I nod. It's been three hours. Thankfully, it's freezing outside so the milk I bought hasn't gotten warm. "I should...um. Probably get home. My roommate is waiting." Roommate? Is that what I call him? I have no idea. Seems better than explaining where Adam fits into everything.

Harold looks intrigued. "I didn't know you had a roommate."

"It's recent." I duck my head. "He was a friend of Casper's. He wasn't getting along with his mom, so he's been staying with me."

Surprisingly, Harold smiles. "That's great."

"Is it?"

"Sure. I don't like the idea of you being by yourself so much. It's not good for you. Or anyone."

I draw my legs into the car to sit properly. Harold shuts the door and I roll down the window, frowning. "Thanks. Again. I'm sorry I interrupted your day."

"Don't worry about it, kiddo. See you around." He steps back from the van and lifts his hand in a wave. I think about what life is like for him now. If he works longer hours because he misses his wife. If he sits at work and stares at his desk, wondering what it would be like to have pictures of his kids in shiny frames to show off to his clients.

I lean out the window. "Harold."

He stops, turns. "Hm?"

"I think you would've made a great dad."

#

The apartment is still empty when I get home. I put away the milk and chips, and plop down in front of the television to button-mash through a game. Adam doesn't walk through the door for another hour, but, as promised, he's carting along a bag of food from a Chinese place around the block.

He smiles, breathless from his bike ride, and I almost forget I'm annoyed with him. And confused. Definitely more confused than annoyed. Like, if I were to get up and kiss the hell out of him, would it be appropriate now?