On a Date: Baby Sitting

She had invited me over for dinner and when I arrived there was a five year old boy in the kitchen. My date had just finished cutting some garlic and came over to me, wiping her hands with a towel.

"This is my little brother." She said, and kissed me on the cheek.

"Yuck!" cried the boy.

I laughed with good nature and acceptance as I approached the child and extended my hand in salutation. He ignored me and beat a crude rhythm on the counter with a wooden spoon.

"It was a last minute thing," my date said, removing her apron. "I had to baby-sit him, I'm really sorry."

I told her that I like kids. I pointed at the child.

"I like those."

She lifted her brother onto a step ladder in front of the stove where pasta swirled in a boiling pot of water. She instructed the boy to stir the pasta until she gets back, then she excused herself to pee.

"Will you keep an eye on him?" She asked, leaving.

"Of course," I said, staring at the boiling water which churned beneath the child's feeble arm.

When we were alone I sidled up beside him and smiled.

"So, what grade are you in?"

He didn't respond.

"Can't you talk?" I asked.

The boy stirred the pot silently and steam beaded on my face.

"Do you like to cook?"

Still no response. I looked towards the hall and then leaned over to the boy.

"Am I going to fuck your big sister tonight?"

The step ladder creaked.

"I doubt it." I said and walked away, taking out my phone to check e-mail. I had a message telling me it was time to renew my Interview Magazine subscription. Behind me, the child slipped, tipping the boiling water onto his body, his skin blistering before he could let out a scream. I clicked the link to renew my subscription.