Neal tilts his head, silent for a moment. “But what about those things makes you a bad parent? What about those things wouldn’t be helped by having a partner?”
Neal doesn’t realize Malcolm is looking at him. He has his eyes on their twined hands.
“I’ve always wanted kids,” he admits quietly. “I used to think about what it would be like to raise them in a place like New York, somewhere this vibrant and alive and creative.”
Malcolm's smile tips up a little more at Neal's answer and then Gil snaps him out of it. He slides into the back seat so he can sit with Neal, but he leans forward between the seats to talk to Gil.
"Did you ever think about whether you'd be a good father?" he asks.
Neal follows behind them, watching the other mothers, the nannies, the kids. Something about the way their interviewees talk gives Neal the crawls, like they've somehow disconnected from reality even more than he has.
He drifts over to the nannies instead, making small talk while Gil and Malcolm work their way through the moms, slowly getting absorbed into playing with the kids. Piggy back rides and airplanes and temporary baby duty while one of the nannies takes care of the baby in question's older sister. That's where Gil and Malcolm will find him when they're done talking to the last mom, in fact, bouncing a toddler on his hip and singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow quietly.
Neal smiles down at his shoes. "Lots of babysitting when I was a teenager. I needed money to shark at a local pool hall, once I got tired of someone older taking a cut of everything I made. Then I just... found out I liked it."
He glances back toward the building, expression fond. "Kids... give them the chance, and they'll believe anything is possible. Give them the chance, a little encouragement, and stand back far enough..."
He shrugs and looks back down again. "To quote the Prom Queen of Soul, 'teach them well and let them lead the way.'"
There was no way that Malcolm, in his youth, would have been trusted to dogsit, much less babysit. Another thing normal kids got to do that he could only press his face against the glass for.
“And gratifying, to be trusted with the responsibility. You must have been… mature.”
Because that was what he was told was required that he lacked. He wasn’t mature enough.
He fidgets faintly, realizes he’s doing it, and forces himself to stop.
“She doesn’t have that many needs,” he says quietly. He takes a breath and crawls into Gil’s car, tugging Neal along with him, then staring out the window but clinging tightly to Neal’s hand, like he might run away if Malcolm lets go.
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"Having a partner is helping," he acknowledges. He pauses. "Is... that something you.... think about?"
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“I’ve always wanted kids,” he admits quietly. “I used to think about what it would be like to raise them in a place like New York, somewhere this vibrant and alive and creative.”
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“I think we would be the most embarrassing parents any teenager ever had.”
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"In a good way?" he clarifies.
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"We going or what?"
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"Did you ever think about whether you'd be a good father?" he asks.
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Not that he doesn't have an answer--he's curious what prompted the question in the first place.
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He leaves Neal out of this; people are already going to think they're going too fast.
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Gil pulls out into traffic, thinking it over. "I suppose so. I think everyone wonders at some point. Worries, if they're thinking about having kids."
He smiles at the rearview mirror. "Jackie and I didn't think we'd ever have any, but we didn't expect you."
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"Nobody could have expected that," he concedes.
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"He's definitely that."
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"Okay boys. Keep it PG in public, please."
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At the mommy group, Malcolm walks alongside Gil, who shows his badge at the door. They're allowed in.
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He drifts over to the nannies instead, making small talk while Gil and Malcolm work their way through the moms, slowly getting absorbed into playing with the kids. Piggy back rides and airplanes and temporary baby duty while one of the nannies takes care of the baby in question's older sister. That's where Gil and Malcolm will find him when they're done talking to the last mom, in fact, bouncing a toddler on his hip and singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow quietly.
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He's still a little distracted through questionning, though, and as they walk outside, he falls back beside Neal.
"How did you get experience with babies?"
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He glances back toward the building, expression fond. "Kids... give them the chance, and they'll believe anything is possible. Give them the chance, a little encouragement, and stand back far enough..."
He shrugs and looks back down again. "To quote the Prom Queen of Soul, 'teach them well and let them lead the way.'"
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There was no way that Malcolm, in his youth, would have been trusted to dogsit, much less babysit. Another thing normal kids got to do that he could only press his face against the glass for.
“And gratifying, to be trusted with the responsibility. You must have been… mature.”
Because that was what he was told was required that he lacked. He wasn’t mature enough.
He fidgets faintly, realizes he’s doing it, and forces himself to stop.
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"What is it?" he says softly.
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“My mother still thinks I can barely look after my parakeet. Are you sure you could ever trust me with a child?”
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