I drop to my knees with a playful groan and crawl a few feet forward.
"Crawl low!" they all shout back.
"That's right. You got it," Ramzi says, holding out a hand and helping me get back on my feet.
This is the fifth time I've had to demonstrate both a Stop, Drop, and Roll or a Crawl Low Under Smoke today. Funny how I always end up as the live-action demo model whenever we do these school visits.
"You've been a great audience," he says, beaming. "Please give it up for my assistant, Buzz Lightyear!"
Eyes light up, and little faces beam as I wave at the second graders. He's said my name at least five times, and each time, it gets the same reaction.
I bet after this safety demonstration, the number one question I'll get isIs that your real name?which I'll happily answer, but only if they correctly answer whatever fire safety question I throw at them first.
"Assistant, my ass," I mutter out the side of my mouth as the teacher steps forward and asks the class to give us a round of applause.
"Now who's ready to see our truck?" Ramzi asks.
Every single hand in the room shoots up, along with excited cries of "Meeeee!"
The kids scramble to line up by the door, bouncing on their toes as they follow us outside.
"You havin' fun, man?" Ramzi asks.
Normally, he wouldn't have to because doing safety demos and getting to hang out with kids is my favorite thing in the world. When we pulled up, I saw a young dad collecting his kid from the sick bay. All I could think wasI want to be a dad so bad.
But my mind is elsewhere today, distracted by a text I got from Court earlier this morning, saying he was going to go pay his mom a visit after lunch. I'm worried about how it will go. It's the right thing to do, but that woman is the human equivalent of doom scrolling on social media. She pretty much always leaves Court feeling worse than before.
I know he hasn't given up on wanting a relationship with her, even after how neglectful she's been his whole life. I just hope she pulls her head out so they can find a way to have one.
"I'm having a good time," I assure Ramzi with a clap on the back.
"Don't stress about your husband. You'll be able to take care of him with that talented mouth of yours, I'm sure."
I groan and check over my shoulder to make sure no one heard. "I regret telling you anything."
He chuckles. "It's about time you got laid. Working with you has been a pure joy this past week."
"If we weren't surrounded by seven- and eight-year-olds, I'd tell you to fuck right off."
His chuckle turns into a laugh. "You love me."
I shake my head, grinning. He's got me there. And I'm not mad at him because all he's trying to do is keep my mind off Court.
I justreallyhope his visit with his mom goes well.
"What. The. Fuck?"
"Yep, you heard it here first," Court says dejectedly.
He grabs a bottle of Moxie from the fridge, tops it with a generous splash of rum, gives it a lazy swirl, and slides it along the counter to me.
I was surprised to see him drinking when I got home, but after him dropping the bombshell about his mom and my dad, I hastily take the glass and down a massive gulp.
"How? When?" I say, dragging a hand though my hair as the drink scorches its way down my throat, my mind filling with rage and so many questions. "And to circle back to my original point, what the fuck?"
"I've told you everything I know, Buzz. When she broke the news, I freaked out. Got lightheaded and needed air, so I didn't hang around for an extensive Q&A."
"Is she going to keep it?"
