Time. So much time.

I still get busy, but there is a freedom here that is absolutely foreign to me.

I’m glad I brought one of my drawing pad with me along with pencils, as I sent everything else to Europe already.

I’ve spent a few days drawing with Eloim on the coffee table, sitting on the floor. It turned out that drawing is another way to get him out from his shell. So I was a little proud of myself and my achievement in doing so. When he was concentrating on drawing the cat that was lounging on the sofa and grooming the kitten, I would draw him. He curly hair that reminded me of his fathers, only a paler shade of brown. The same brown eyes. He was tall for his age and will probably make a very tall man. He would bite his tongue and have the tip exposed between his lips when he was concentrating on something. It was the cutest.

Eloim had declared himself caretakers of our small menagerie, even better than I had anticipated. He would brush the fur of all three daily, calmly in a corner. He had a concentration and discipline that surprised me for a child this young. He also seemed pretty smart despite his hang ups. We even worked on his letters and numbers, most of which he already knew.

I moved straight into Xander room. It became natural pretty quickly and we tried to spend time talking every day and getting to know one another. This relationship had grown intimate rather quickly, but it’s no worse than the few times I tried one night stands. It’s just everything in between that changed more radically.

Xander allowed himself to be gone a lot more since I’ve been here to look after Eloim, but he said this contract was more complicated than what had been expected, and I guess for me being present did help him a lot. Plus, Eloim was a pretty quiet kid and could amuse himself for hours at a time, which did give me more time. With a child, and meals and everything else, I didn’t have that much time left, but it was more than I used to have. But the thought of that big house, and all the vacuuming and window cleaning started to creep up on me, and I realised, that could be a full-time job in and of itself.

“There is this thing call a maid. It’s easy, you give her some money and she cleans everything,” had said Xander after I’d voiced my concerns.

I bit my lips, worried. Wouldn’t that be my job now?

“I didn’t have the time to clean myself, I can just give the maid the new address,” he told me.

I nodded.

“Actually, I wanted to get an idea by you,” he told me.

“Sure,” I said.

“If you’re interested, I’d like to move to the country house.”

“Sure.”

“So to make it possible to do that faster, getting more funding would help.”

“You need money? I don’t have much.”

“No, no, I was thinking of selling the town house.”

“Oh, I don’t mind that. It’s your house.”

“Technically, it’s sort of about to be ours. If you prefer London to the country, I’m okay.”

“I was raised in a rural village in Canada. I’m completely fine with the country.”

He smiled. “It has land.”

“It does,” I agreed.

“Not everything would be ready to move in right away, but we could probably move in part of the house in a month or two.”

I nodded. “But you need the funds to get there,” I mused. “It means selling now, but not moving in right away.”

“Yeah. I could have a buyer right now actually, which would work great, but we’d be homeless for a little while there.”

“Which means?” I asked.

“My parents bought a historical house when I was young and restored it. Like we’re doing. It’s big and has plenty of extra room.”

“Would they be okay with that?”

“I’m sure, but I’ll talk to them today.”

I nodded.

“You’re what?” asked a woman from Xander’s computer in the kitchen.

“Getting married,” said Xander.

“How long have you known her?”

“A little over a month.”

I tried not to listen in, but it was hard as the place was not gigantic, and it was hard to escape noises, as we’d found out a few nights back, despite our efforts.

“Isn’t that a little quick Xan.”

“Sure, but it’s working out and Eloim likes her.”

“Mammy is upset?” Eloim asked me.

“I don’t know, maybe. She’s worried about your Daddy,” I told him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a big change to have me move in with the two of you and she wants to make sure you will be both happy.”

“We are,” he told me.

“But she doesn’t know that, which is why your father is trying to explain it to her.”

He looked at his father’s computer and the drawing on the coffee table and back. He seemed to make up his mind and ran to his father, spreading his hands clearly wanting to be picked up, which surprised Xander, but he complied happily, sitting the boy on his lap.

“We’re happy, mammy. He told her. So stop worrying.”

There was a short silence and I saw him extend his marker still in his hands to the screen.

“Oi,” said Xander.

I came and swooped the boy in my arms.

“Okay, this is enough Picasso.”

“My name is not Picasso, it’s Eloim,” he told me, laughing at my mistake.

“What has happened to Eloim? What did you do?” I heard Xander’s mother ask him in the background, but Eloim had decided to draw a mustache on me and I decided not, and he was not agreeing with my decission, so I tickled him—which worked, as he laughed loudly—until I could snatch the marker away, cap it and put it back in its case.

“Mila happened,” Xander said.

“I’d like to talk to her,” she asked.

Xander turned to me.

“Give me a sec,” I said, holding the marker’s case up and shutting everything away, and keeping it out of reach of Eloim who was now trying to climb my leg, giggling.

“Okay, this is enough, let he breathe,” Xander said as he came to pick the boy up.

I put the art supply somewhere high, and went nervously to the computer.

It turned out that his mother was really kind, and after hearing me play with Eloim, it was all the confirmation she needed. I got a little nervous, but she agreed to shelter us while the work continued on the house and then talked decor, and we sort of rambled for a while together after that about interior design and colour palettes.

I notice as I shut closed the laptop, once the conversation was done, that I will have to do something similar eventually with my parents, but I was under not urgency yet.