Puny humans, let's start again.

Should he have brought a gift? Scott stood at the bottom of the stairwell, wishing he had a smoke. It had been twelve years since his last one, and twenty since his pack-a-day habit, and lord, some cravings ought to stay gone.

It was noon-day hot, and the second-hand suit jacket he’d bought wasn’t going to get more comfortable if he started sweating. He trudged up the stairs, paused at the apartment door, and took the phone from his pocket.

It was a sleek-looking thing with an apple on the back and a camera that unlocked when he smiled at it. The guy behind the counter had helped him get set up. What had he said? People kept their whole lives on these things.

Scott found his email, double-checked the address, put the phone away, and knocked on 122. A smoke, he thought as he waited. Just a drag, even. What the hell would it matter, he was closing in on a half-century sometime soon, he could afford a little nicotine. Maybe—

The door opened, and there he was. Daniel. Danny. Scraped knees, chocolate mustaches. But good lord, he had unshaved stubble, laugh-lines, he wasn’t a boy at all.

“Hi Dad.”

Twenty years, gone in a flash. There was a lump in Scott’s throat, and all his rehearsed greetings disappeared. When he spoke, he said, “Lord, look at you. You’re taller than I am.”

Danny laughed and waved him inside. He flashed Scott a sheepish smile as they skirted around scattered toys to get to the sofa. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess. Amy — that’s my wife—”

“I remember,” Scott said, moving aside a small pirate hat, so that he could sit.

“Right,” Danny agreed. He sat in the chair across from his father. “Well, she had an appointment this morning, and then her and Kevin headed to the beach. He was too excited to clean up his stuff.”

“It’s a hot day,” Scott said, smiling. “I’d rather be swimming too. I can’t believe he’s already five.”

Danny smiled. “Birthday was last month.”

“The sixteenth, two days after your grandma’s,” Scott said. “Did he have a party?”

“Nothing big,” Danny said. “Mom came, and Amy’s sister brought her kids. We had cake and balloons, and of course, it rained the whole afternoon… remind me to never again have four kids in an apartment again. My neighbors probably hate me.”

Scott shook his head. “Doubt that. I saw a big park, probably lots of kids around here. You and Amy planning to have more?”

“Kev is plenty,” Danny said, holding up his hands. “Besides, he likes being an only child. He wouldn’t want to share his attention with a crying baby.”

“When you were his age, you begged for a younger brother or sister,” Scott told him. “Even volunteered to keep him in your room at night to try to convince us.”

Danny chuckled. “It’s been forever since I thought about that. I ever tell you why?”

Scott shook his head.

“A kid at school told me that taking a baby trick-or-treating got you more candy,” Danny said.

Scott gave him a dumbfounded look, and then he was laughing, and Danny joined in — lord, he might be twenty-seven, but that laugh hadn’t changed one bit.

The laughter passed and Danny stood. “Lasagna should be done, is that okay for lunch?”

Scott said it was perfect and followed his son into the kitchen. It was far more organized and smelled delicious. He expected a prepackaged tray, but was happy to be wrong.

“You cook a lot?” Scott asked as Danny set the perfectly-layered meal to cool.

Danny grinned and nodded toward the opposite counter. “Take a look over there.”

Over there, on display, was a wide, thin book with a glossy cover. Scott picked it up, feeling a jolt of shock at the face and name on the back of the recipe book. “This is you, though. Danny, I didn’t know you—”

“Yeah, about a year ago,” Scott said in an off-handed but clearly pleased manner. “Got published after I redid the menu over at Murriet’s. Didn’t think I would, but Amy’s great at nagging people until they agree — I told you she’s an agent, right?”

“Yes,” Scott said. “When you called about your engagement, you told me she worked with… a comedian — I don’t recall his name.”

“Me either,” Danny said. “There are too many these days. I’ll get us some plates, you want something to drink? Filtered water, not tap — it’s disgusting — or there’s beer in the fridge, want one?”

Scott shook his head, the back of his neck turning red.

Danny glanced over at him, then gave another sheepish smile. “Shit, sorry. Probably don’t drink, huh?”

“It’s all right,” Scott said. The apology he’d practiced seemed appropriate, but instead, he filled the moment with a hurried, “You know, your grandma loved Italian food. I bet you got your cooking skills from her. Anything I can help get ready?”

“I forgot the garlic bread, so I think this is it,” Danny said, cutting out two slices. Scott took off his coat and they sat across from each other at the table.

Danny gestured with his fork to the food. “About Grandma — Mom actually gave me some of her recipes. She didn’t think you’d mind. They were in a box of keepsakes in her attic. She found them while moving, didn’t want anything to happen to them.”

Scott smiled again, a little more reserved this time. “I’m glad, Danny. She would have liked you to have them. Did you get to spend much time with her before she passed?”

“Mom took me over every Saturday,” Danny said. “I Doubt most kids would want to spend their weekend with an old lady, but she was a cool old lady. She missed you.”

Scott took a large bite of his lasagna to keep from having to speak right away. Once he’d swallowed, he said, “I wanted to go to the service, they wouldn’t let me.”

“Yeah, Mom told me,” Danny said.

They both went quiet for a few minutes as they ate. Scott kept thinking of things he should say, but when he broke the silence, it was to say, “You got the sauce perfect.”

“Thanks,” Danny said.

“So your mom, how’s she?”

Danny shrugged. “She’s good. She and Carlos took Gabby on a cruise for her birthday — not sure how much fun a ten-year-old would have on a ship, but it’s their headache.”

“She ever help you get that extra candy?” Scott asked, smiling.

Danny laughed.

After lunch, they went back to the living room. Scott took a better look around this time. Little things stood out to him: a lamp glued back together, a thriller novel beside the couch, a collection of video game controllers, a forgotten fast food bag.

Simple things.

Unfamiliar things.

There had once been a seven-year-old in batman pajamas. Scott had known everything about that boy. But then he’d put on his jumpsuit and hugged him hard as the boy had begged him not to go. I wish I didn’t have to, kid, he’d thought at the time, but hadn’t said.

Danny was now Daniel, a stranger with a familiar laugh who had done just fine. Scott was heartened to see the rich, full life his son had made. But he was a foreigner here. An acquaintance coming by for lunch twenty years too late.

“You did well, son,” he said.

“Not too bad, right?” Danny agreed.

“Look, thanks for having me over,” Scott said. “I’ve got some calls to make though, best to do those back at the hotel.”

Danny gave him a curious look but didn’t argue that point. “Sure. You said you’re in town a few days? Let’s do something while you’re here, a family dinner maybe? Amy and Kev are sick of my cooking. We can go out.”

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

Danny shifted feet. “What hotel are you at?”

“The one down by the interstate,” Scott said. “Nice place, it’s got a pool.”

“You know, we’ve got an extra room,” Danny told him. “Amy wouldn’t mind putting out the guest sheets.”

“I couldn’t put you guys out,” Scott said, quickly waving off the idea. “Besides, I already paid for the week, and I want to enjoy that pool. I’ve got those calls, too.”

They made their goodbyes, and Scott kept his composure through them. Kept it all the way out the door, down the stairwell, down the street.

When he reached the corner, he realized he’d left his suit jacket at the table. It had only been a few bucks, what the hell. He kept walking.

The hotel did have a pool. And Scott did have people he could call. But when he got there, he only took off his shoes and laid in his bed.

Twenty years ago, Scott had still been young. He hadn’t thought so at the time — how could he be young when he was halfway through his twenties? Married? With a boy already seven? With a career, a mortgage, a car?

For the young man with an entire life ahead, the first few years in his cell had been the worst.

Sleepless nights wondering about the family who had to move on without him. And when he did sleep, he had nightmares about the drunken times he’d driven anyway, and the man he’d killed because of a few too many beers. Alternating between anger and grief. He’d hated himself, hated the world. He’d swing like a pendulum, sometimes craving redemption, forgiveness, and absolution, sometimes bitterly hoping that he would never be given any at all.

But eventually, he made what little amends he could, found a semblance of peace, and spent his time in whatever constructive means he could find.

He had a shoebox full of mail his now ex-wife had sent from Danny. Coloring book pages that got better each time, notes written with a child’s giant letters and simple words. Photos of birthdays and Christmases and even one Halloween.

There had been calls at first. Twice a week, or at least every weekend. They became less frequent. Then the mail became sparser. The first few years eventually ended, and then there was nothing left to say. Danny called on Christmas, Danny called on his birthday, but there was nothing said about his favorite books, or a broken lamp, or what fast food garbage he liked best.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” he whispered to the ceiling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Scott had prepared to be met with anger, resentment, and disgust. But he wasn’t the young father who’d killed another human with stupid, youthful arrogance any more than Danny was the young son left to grow up without him.

When his phone chimed, Scott didn’t immediately know where it came from. When a second text message came in, he remembered his phone and took it from his pocket. It was from Danny, saying he’d left his jacket and his wallet in the inner pocket.

As little as he wanted to go back, to impose himself into a life that was no longer his, Scott put on his shoes. The walk back felt shorter, and the evening breeze felt good.

When he got to the apartment, he went straight up, no hesitation. No thoughts about a smoke. He rang the door and waited for Danny to bring his forgotten items out.

A pretty red-haired woman answered instead.

“Scott?” she asked. When he nodded, she gave him a warm smile. “I’m Amy. Dan told me you were coming — he’s at the end of the hall, on the right, go on in.”

Scott thanked her, and went in. When he reached the half-closed door at the end, the sound of laughter stopped him. He stood for a moment, listening to childish giggles harmonizing with fatherly laughter.

He took a step forward and pushed the door open more. Danny and his boy were on the floor, both cross-legged. There was a collection of toys between them, faded action figures they were playing with.

Danny clomped a masked figure forward toward the rest, adopting a deep, throaty tone as he proclaimed, “You fools, I shall destroy your puny human society.”

The boy giggled harder as he put two figures forward. “Never! I’m Captain—”

He cut off as he saw Scott. Danny looked over too.

“Hi,” Scott said. “I got your message.”

The boy didn’t lower the figures, casting a suspicious glare at the villain in his dad’s hand, even as he asked, “Hi! Who are you?”

Scott wasn’t sure what he should say, but it didn’t matter.

Danny spoke first. “Kev, this is my dad, and your Grandpa Scott. He’s the one I told you all the stories about. In fact, he gave me these when I was about your age.”

Scott looked down at the action figures again, surprised. “Captain Planet? You kept all those?”

“Of course I did,” Danny said, sounding both bewildered and amused. “These were my favorites as a kid. I had that theme song memorized by heart. Still do, actually.”

Scott shook his head. “I thought—”

Kevin interrupted, “Daddy said you once took him camping, and Grandma got scared because you forgot the flashlight batteries, and nobody could get a fire started.”

Danny smiled at Scott. Scott smiled back.

“That’s true,” Scott said. “But did your dad tell you that he kept sneaking up, trying to scare her in the dark too?”

Kevin gave Danny a shocked look, laughed wildly, and looked back to Scott. “Can you stay and play with us?”

Danny leaned close to Kevin, looked up at Scott, made puppy-dog eyes, and adopted the same tone as his son. “Yeah, Dad. Stay and play with us?”

“Are you sure?” Scott asked.

“We’ll make room,” Danny said.

And they did. For action figures, birthdays, and Christmases. For broken lamps and fast food bags, too.