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Grandad was great. Not that there was anything wrong with Grandpa, or that Henry would play favorites between the two of them. Grandpa had a gun, just like Mom, and he took Henry to games all the time, and he had already promised to teach Henry to drive as soon as he was tall enough to reach the pedals. Grandpa David was really cool.
But Grandad was great. He visited very rarely, but always made a point to spend as much time with Henry as he could. That usually meant they'd walk together from school, visit the Central Park, and spend what Mom deemed an unhealthy amount of time playing video games. She never really complained though. Grandad had a way of looking at her softly and saying, “C'mon, I never get to spoil my grandchild,” that pretty much meant they'd get away with anything for three or four days, be it an extra bedtime story or making an extra mess in the bedroom.
And it wasn't like Mom and Dad didn't enjoy some privileges themselves. If Grandad was staying for a long weekend, they'd often plan a date night and go out for dinners that seemed to last until the next day.
“Do you think they eat all night?” Henry asked, remembering that, the last time his parents had gone out for dinner, they hadn't returned until breakfast.
“Probably,” Grandad said, putting several DVDs on the table. “What are we watching tonight?”
“But what if they get tired?” Henry insisted. “Do they sleep in the restaurant? Or do they go to a hotel?”
“I- Henry, why don't we pick a movie?”
“But why would they sleep somewhere else if they have a bed here?”
Grandad stared at him. Henry wondered if maybe he had no idea either, though he really should. Henry was six years old and Grandad was a grown up, he ought to know everything by now. Maybe that was why he was turning red so quickly, he was embarrassed he didn't have the answer.
“Because,” Grandad said, very unsure, “it's dangerous to drive after drinking wine.”
“Oh!” Henry said, everything sounding much more plausible now. “Okay then.”
“Yes, okay then,” Grandad repeated. “Can you choose a movie now? Please?”
Henry chose Aladdin, which he had already elected as his favorite movie earlier that week. He made Grandad replay the Genie song three times before allowing the movie to go on. Jasmine and Aladdin had barely flown away to their happy ending when he started bouncing on the couch.
“Again! Again! Can we watch it again, Grandad, pleeease?”
“What, the same movie? Don’t you want to pick another one?” Grandad said, eying the other titles on the table.
“No, it’s a great movie!”
“How about we get ready for bed? I’ll read you a story.”
“But it’s early,” Henry whined. “I want to watch the movie again, and then I want to be Aladdin.”
“My, my, it’s a rather ambitious plan, considering you only have twenty more minutes until your bedtime.”
“Please, Grandad,” he begged again, giving Grandad big pleading eyes that he knew to be effective. He could see Grandad's resolution was melting away already. “I can be Aladdin and you can be the Genie. You can do funny voices.”
“I cannot do funny voices.”
“You have a funny voice.”
“How lovely of you to say it. Bedtime.”
“Nooo, please. OH!” Henry jumped up, making Grandad sigh and regret letting him have an extra piece of candy after dinner. “Can I be Jafar?”
“Henry-”
“Just until bedtime. We can play and then I go to bed. Please?”
Grandad frowned with suspicion. “Just fifteen minutes?”
“Fifteen minutes and then bedtime story! Promise!”
Grandad sighed, defeated. “You're going to be my undoing.”
“Look, Grandad! Look!”
Grandad slumped back on the couch, watching Henry jump on top of the coffee table.
“Henry, don’t-” he tried, but Henry was already speaking, “I’m Jafar and my second wish is that I become the greatest sorcerer in the wooooorld!”
“Oh, no,” Grandad said, giving up the reprimand and giving him a tired smile instead. “And what will you do with me, almighty sorcerer?”
“I’mmmm...”
Henry looked around. He wasn't a proper Jafar yet. He needed magic. You couldn't be Jafar without magic. And a scepter.
Before Grandad could do anything, he reached for his cane and brandished it as if it were a weapon. “I’ll turn you into a frog-”
Grandad startled and tried to reach for his cane. “Henry, no, give it back.”
Henry jumped out of reach. “Never, peasant! You’ll be a-”
“Henry, I am not kidding, give it back,” he asked, making Henry stop bouncing. He hadn't shouted, Grandad never shouted at him. But his voice was serious, almost desperate to make Henry listen.
Henry wrapped his hands on the cane, bringing it closer to his chest. “But I want to be Jafar.”
“This is a cane, Henry,” Grandad insisted. “It's not for playing.”
Not for playing? Maybe Grandad wasn't using it right. Everything was for playing.
Besides, he really, really wanted it. He couldn't be Jafar without a scepter and that was so perfect. Grandad had to be understanding.
“Please, Grandad,” he asked. “I'll be careful with it.”
Grandad didn't even seem to consider it. But at the same time, he didn't fight it. H e just looked... helpless. As if he didn't know how to handle the situation.
Finally, in a very serious, but polite tone, he said, “Come here, Henry.”
Henry hesitated, “Are you mad, Grandad?”
“No, not at all. I just want to talk to you.”
Henry sat by his side, hands still firmly grasping the mahogany.
“Do you know why grandad uses a cane?” he asked, slowly.
Henry answered as if the question had been silly in the first place, “Because it's fun to have a cane.”
Grandad smiled. “You think so?”
“Yes, you can use it to beat people if they're mean to you, and it makes you look cool.”
“Lord! That is rather violent, don't you think?”
“Raffiki does that. And ninjas fight with canes.”
“I don't think I look much like a ninja, Henry. Or a baboon. And I don't beat people with my cane, sorry to disappoint.”
“Why not?”
“Because it's wrong to beat people, for one thing. But mostly because my cane is actually for walking.”
Henry seemed confused. “But you have legs for walking.”
“Yes, but my right ankle happens to be very weak.”
“Why?”
“Because I broke it when I was younger and it didn't heal right.”
“Is that why you have a scar?”
“Yes, I had to have surgery to put everything in the right place again.”
Henry winced. “Did it hurt?”
“No, I was asleep. But sometimes it hurts to walk, so I need a cane to help me. But if I don't have my cane, it's hard to walk, or to stand for a long time.”
Henry said, “Oooh,” comprehension spreading all over his face as he thought back as far as he could remember for memories of Grandad rubbing his ankle with a tired sigh as they finally sat down, or split second flinches when they had been walking in Central Park for too long.
“That is why you shouldn't move my cane or take it without permission,” Grandad continued. “Do you understand now, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Grandad. Sorry.”
“That's alright, you didn't know. Can I have my cane back?”
Henry offered it back to him with a little guilt in his eyes – and a little bit of disappointment that he couldn't repress.
“Now,” Grandad said, sounding more comfortable with his cane by his side, “what were you doing, oh!, most powerful sorcerer in the world?”
“I can't be a sorcerer without a scepter,” Henry said, looking around in hopes to find something to replace the cane.
Grandad said, “Does that mean I’m Jafar now? Since I got the scepter.”
“I guess.”
“Oh, my. Am I the most powerful sorcerer in the world?” he asked, with mischief in his eyes.
Henry giggled. “Yes.”
He wrapped Henry with his free arm. “And what shall I do with this little brat who keeps making fun of my accent?”
Henry laughed. “Please don’t turn me into a frog, Jafar.”
“I shan’t! I have something much more cruel for you. Tickle spell!”
Henry screamed and Grandad pulled him closer to attack him with both hands, his cane forgotten on the floor.
*
When Henry woke up the next morning, Grandad had left already to catch an early flight. He had to be back in Storybrooke in time for lunch.
Mommy prepared the breakfast with hot chocolate and cinnamon and allowed him to put whipped cream on top of his pancakes, just to cheer himself up. Daddy came by to give him a good morning kiss, but locked himself in his studio with a bowl of cereal right after, claiming to be way behind on his latest project.
“Cheer up,” Mom said, watching Henry poke at the food and not eat. “Grandad will be back before you know it.”
“But it’ll take so long.”
“C’mon, you can send him a letter at the end of the week and let him know everything you did at school. Wouldn’t you like that?”
“I guess.”
Henry ate quietly for a while.
“Mommy?”
“Hm?”
“Did you know Grandad uses his cane to walk?”
“I did know that. A lot of people have to walk with canes, especially grandads.”
“Grandpa doesn't have a cane.”
“Grandpa is really young, Henry. I don't think he'll need one for at least forty years.”
“But do you think it hurts?”
“What?”
“Grandad's ankle.”
“Not a lot,” she answered, cautiously. “Grandad is also young. His ankle just bothers him from time to time.”
“Do you think people steal his cane a lot?”
That made her snap her head up, startled. But her voice was even when she asked, “Why would you ask that?”
“Because he looked so scared when I took it. I think he thought I wouldn't give it back.”
His mother stared at him, saying nothing. Henry rushed to add, “But I was going to.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, blinking and shaking her head, as if to push away a silly thought. “I know you would. You're a good kid.”
“Maybe people don't always give it back when he asks them.”
“I don't think anyone would be cruel enough to steal someone's cane, Henry.”
“So Grandad's fine?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
“You're stalling, Henry. Eat your breakfast.”
Henry didn’t push, but he could see Mommy was thinking about what he had said.
After washing the dishes, he saw her go into Daddy's studio, which was very unusual. The studio was off limits when Dad was working, unless Henry or Mommy needed his help with something urgent.
“And by urgent,” Daddy said, quite often, “I mean someone is catching fire.”
But this time, Mommy went in with nothing more than a knock and a quiet request, “Hey, we need to talk.”
Henry wondered if it had anything to do with what Henry had said during breakfast. Was he in trouble for taking Grandad's cane? He didn't mean to upset him.
Or maybe they wanted to talk about these people that were taking his cane away?
But then again, Mommy had a point. Who’d be as cruel as to steal Grandad’s cane?