Page 140 of Last Man Standing

“I totally know how!” He grins proudly. “But I need help to get her saddle on, so usually I ask whoever is closest to lift it for me.”

“Oh, well…” I bring my focus back to her nibbling lips. “Don’t ask me, because even if I could lift the saddle for you, I wouldn’t know how to do it up properly. I’d hate to be the reason she bucked you off or something.”

“Naw. She wouldn’t do that. And besides, I bet you’d figure it out and make sure it was perfect before you let me on, anyway.” He glances up at me through eyes that match Sebastion’s exactly. “You’d make sure I was safe. Ya know how I know?”

Because I’m scared your mom will kill me if I don’t?

“Because you’re a nice person,” he happily sighs. “And cause my brother pulled me out of the pool that other time.”

“I…” Curious, I tilt my head to the side and puzzle out his words. “I don’t get how the two things correlate.”

“Bas loooooves you.” He drags the word out and teases me with bouncing giggles. “And he loves me, too, cause I’m his brother and he cried that time I nearly drowned.”

Did drown, baby. But he brought you back.

“If he loves you, it’s cause he thinks you’re amazing. And since he thinks you’re amazing, then I think you’re amazing. And I already thought you was amazing anyway, cause you play Super Mario like a boss.”

“I mean…” I choke out a nervous laugh. “Thanks. I don’t know that I’m that amazing, though. If you fell in the pool, I’m afraid I might not jump in and help you.”

Stricken, he folds back and shows me what a broken heart looks like on a five-year-old’s face. “Cause you don’t like me?”

“Oh my gosh. No!” I tug him back in, laughing and squeezing him to my belly. “Because I sometimes freeze up when scary things happen. I hate it.” I trade my laughter for a sigh. Mirth for disappointment. My smile for a frown. “I don’t mean to do it, and it’s really frustrating, because I don’t want to freeze up. But sometimes, when something bad is happening, my brain screams a trillion instructions at once, but I can’t really hear any of them clearly. So instead of doing literally anything, I do nothing.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but unable to find his words, he closes it again.

Opens. Closes.

His little brows pinch and create a wrinkle exactly where Sebastion’s forehead is already marked, then he opens his mouth again, only to close it with a huff.

“Frustrating.” I nod. “I know.”

“My brain shouts a trillion things at the same time all the time. Like, alllll the time. I sometimes do all the things at once. Never none of the things.”

I think that’s the bravery that children who don’t know failure yet are gifted with.

I’m not about to be the person who tells him otherwise.

“I think that’s really cool. I wish I could do all the things. I’d feel much better if I could do something instead of nothing.”

“You don’t freeze up in Super Mario. That’s kinda crazy and high pressure and sometimes noisy, ‘specially if I’m losing and shouting at the TV.” He blinks, blinks, blinks up at me, stealing my heart just as easily as he stole my Grand Prix victory the other day. “Does your brain tell you to freeze up when you freeze up?”

“Uh…”

“When all the trillion things are happening inside your head, cause something scary happened in the real world outside your head, is ‘Scarlett, FREEZE!’ one of the things you hear?”

“Well…” I lean against the stall gate and consider for a beat. But the answer comes easily. “Yeah, that’s exactly what happens.” I scrunch my nose. “It’s super annoying.”

“So then you did listen to one of the instructions, silly!” He tickles my ribs and cackles, like he’s the one being tickled. “You didn’t do nothing. You didn’t freeze cause your brain stopped working. You froze cause your brain said to. Next time, just listen to a different instruction and then you’re all set.”

Struck dumb, I simply stare at him. And stare.

I tilt my head to the side and stare a little more, which takes too long, I suppose, because he leans forward and whispers, “Are you frozen now? Is it a bit like the Nintendo?” He blows a heavy breath against my face. “If we blow in it and put the game back in, it might not freeze anymore.”

“I’m not frozen now.” But I wrap my arms around his shoulders and drag him in close. “I’ve spent a lot of money on therapists, ya know? I could buy an entire house with the money I’ve spent in those offices, and I don’t think any of them were as helpful as you.”

“Really?” He pulls back and flashes a wide, cheeser grin. “I helped?”

“You totally helped. I don’t freeze up at all, do I? I just follow the wrong instructions like a big dummy.”