Kids
To avoid disturbing Kate, I don’t go back up to our bedroom once I finish my late night snack. She deserves a little rest. Actually, she probably deserves a lot of rest. So, I banish myself to the couch and fall into a surprisingly easy sleep there.
So, easy, in fact, that I don’t wake up until I feel something poking the side of my face.
I peel my eyes open slowly and find Shepherd standing in front of me, a puzzled look on his face. His little brow is furrowed and his finger reaches out to poke my face again before he realizes that I am actually awake.
“Mommy said to wake you up,” he says simply, then walks away, his job done.
That’s my son. If he didn’t look so much like me – when he doesn’t look exactly like Kate, that is – I wouldn’t even believe such a serious, quiet little thing could possibly be my offspring. But he is. Truthfully, I can see a lot of myself in him. If no one had ever told me that I was weird, if I hadn’t ever felt like I didn’t even fit in my own skin, I probably would have been a lot like him. I wouldn’t have needed to be such a clown if I’d felt like just being me was okay. Shep’s lucky like that, I guess. At least I can look at him – and Junia – and know that Kate and I have done something right.
I can hear sounds coming from the kitchen, so I don’t need to wonder where Kate is. I’m sure that she probably told Shepherd to tell me breakfast was ready, but he woke me up, so that was good enough. My bones creak like I’m an old man as I pull myself off the couch. When did I start to feel this damn old? It seems like I’ve gone from twenty to fifty overnight. Groaning, I pad to the kitchen to see if I’m correct in guessing that Kate is waiting for me there.
Sure enough, she’s sitting at the kitchen table, helping Junia to spoon a few cheerios into her mouth. Shepherd’s got his own bowl of cereal, already half eaten, and Kate only has a glass of orange juice. Typical – for both of them.
“I didn’t cook anything, sorry,” Kate says. “I’ve got to get going soon.”
I don’t ask where she’s going, because I think I can guess. She’s going to stay with Natalie. I’m not even that bothered that she didn’t cook breakfast, although I had gotten used to Carrick’s bacon and eggs every morning. With Kate, though, it’s usually better when she doesn’t try to cook. I’m disastrous in the kitchen to the point of actually being a hazard to my own health. Kate isn’t that bad, but her cooking has never been anything to write home about. So, needless to say, I’m not really upset about having to pour myself a bowl of cereal.
I opt for the same Cocoa Puffs that I’m surprised she even bought for Shep. She’s a health food nut, even when it comes to the typical little kid foods. On the other hand, Shep has a pout that’s pretty much impossible to refuse. I’m glad that in this case, he pouted his way into some chocolate. I have a feeling this is going to be the best part of my day.
With my bowl of cereal in hand, I sit down at the table. It’s so strange to be back here with the three of them, sitting down to a meal together like the perfect little family. At the same time, it’s hard to figure out exactly at which point we stopped really being the perfect family. I know we never really were, but we were good enough at pretending. We had a routine. We had figured out how to make things work, even if we weren’t happy. Isn’t that what marriage is? It sounds cynical, but… it did work.
When did it stop?
“Zac?”
“Hmm?” I ask, suddenly realizing my mouth is full of soggy Cocoa Puffs. I guess I zoned out for a moment.
Kate almost looks amused, but also slightly annoyed. “I asked if you would go help Shep get dressed. He can’t wear his pajamas all day, even if he is just going to be at home.”
Shep gives Kate a pout, but at the moment, it seems to have no effect on her at all. I have to stop myself from laughing. You can’t really fault the kid for trying, and chances are, I won’t change out of the t-shirt and sweatpants that I wore all day yesterday, too.
“Yeah,” I reply, realizing that Kate is staring at me, waiting for an answer. “Come on, Shep.”
He sighs, but obediently follows me when I stand up and take our cereal bowls to the sink. His is empty, of course, but I’ve barely made a dent in mine. I’d blame those late night nachos, but I doubt that’s entirely the reason why I have no appetite. It’s the fear of what this day holds, because I know that whatever it is, it’s going to be a big change and I don’t know how to deal with it.
Shep is oblivious to my worry, though. He follows me down the hallway and a few minutes later, I’ve gotten him dressed and convinced him to brush his teeth. Okay, so I have to do most of the brushing for him, which isn’t easy to do while he’s still pouting. But the job gets done nevertheless and then he’s practically sprinting down the hallway to go plug in his Wii and play Mario Kart, which I assure him I’ll join him for a game of in a few minutes.
Right now, though, I know I need to talk to Kate. I find her in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess Junia made with her Cheerios. Without a word, I start putting our bowls and spoons into the dishwasher. I’ve long since learned that doing a tiny little chore here and there will lessen Kate’s wrath, if only a tiny, barely measurable amount.
Kate waits until we’ve finished cleaning up before speaking to me, and even then, she doesn’t quite meet my eyes.
“Okay, well,” she begins. “After I get Junia cleaned up, I’m going to head on over to Pam’s house. I don’t know how long I’ll be there, but I’ll call and check in on you guys, okay?”
“You’re not taking the kids?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No… I think being surrounded by kids is the last thing Nat needs right now. You guys will be fine here, right? I can make you a list of what foods you need to pick up for them… and I can stay and throw together something for dinner tonight, if you want, so you just need to put it in the oven.”
“No,” I reply. “I mean, a list will help. I could use that. You know I’ll just buy bacon and ice cream if you don’t give me a list. But you go on, be with Nat. I can handle everything else.”
“Okay… if you say so,” she replies, and I can tell that she doesn’t totally believe me, but she doesn’t know what other choice she really has.
“Go get Junia dressed, okay? I owe Shep a game of Mario Kart, apparently,” I say, giving her the sweetest smile I can manage.
That seems to do the trick. We part ways then, Kate making her way up the stairs, while I head for the living room where Shep is already engrossed in his game. He hands me a controller and informs me that I’m going to be Bowser. I’m not sure what to make of that, but when Shep tells you that you’re going to do something, then, well, you’re going to do it. He, of course, is Yoshi.
We play a few games, and he wins every single one. I’m not just letting him win, either. Okay, maybe I threw one race just to make him happy. But he’s my child, so of course he’s great at video games already. He’s in the midst of a rather inspired victory dance – I didn’t say he was a gracious winner – when Kate walks back into the room with Junia. She deposits her on the couch next to me and kisses her forehead.
“Alright, I guess I’m ready to go,” Kate says. “Shep, Mommy will be back as soon as possible, okay? I’m just going to go visit Aunt Natalie.”
“I know,” he replies, barely even pausing in his dance.
“Can Mommy have a hug before she leaves?”
Shep pauses and gives the question serious consideration before finally walking over and giving her a hug. She glances at me then, as though she’s considering asking me for a hug too, but doesn’t say anything.
“Okay,” she says. “Well… I’ll see you all later, I guess.”
“Goodbye, Katie,” I say, not knowing what else to do. It isn’t much, but it’s the best I’ve got.
She gives me a look, but then nods. I guess she’s decided that’s good enough for her. Seconds later, she’s gone, the slamming of the door barely audible over the Mario Kart music playing on a loop. Just like that, I’m alone with the kids again. It’s different this time, though. Last time was only a weekend trip; this time, who knows how long it might be.
The kids, of course, don’t seem to notice that anything is wrong. If they do, I suppose they’re both still too young to really know what might be wrong. I guess it’s better that way. As long as they’re both still happy and clueless as to what’s really happening to their parents’ marriage, then maybe they’ll come out of it unscathed.
I know how horribly cynical that is, but it’s the best outcome I’ve got any right to hope for.
I settle in for another game or ten of Mario Kart, hoping that will help stave off the pity party I can feel trying to start within me. It’s impossible to be depressed with my babies by my side, though. Even when Shep is kicking my ass at the game I bought for him and taught him how to play and Junia isn’t really doing anything aside from trying to tie my hair in knots, they just make everything better.
The rest of the day passes us by pretty quickly. Despite whatever reservations Kate might have, I’m really not a bad dad. It’s easy enough to make peanut butter and banana sandwiches and play with Junia and her dolls. It might not be much, but it’s those little things that will keep them happy. They don’t need a lot to be content, and as we’ve already established, I’m pretty much a hermit anyway. A whole day spent playing with my kids and hiding in my house? Easy peasy.
The hardest part of the day is getting them both bathed, in pajamas and tucked into bed. Junia would rather stay in the tub forever and play with all of her little floaty toys, and Shep’s at that age where he would rather do anything besides take a bath. Eventually, though, I get both of them into bed, somehow. It’s still fairly early, despite how long that seemed to take, so I shuffle back downstairs to the living room and turn on the television. Maybe a few hours of TV will shut my brain down enough to allow me to rest a little.
I’m just starting to drift off when my cell phone starts vibrating on the couch next to me. I flip it over and look at the screen. A new text message from Carrick. It’s amazing how quickly I can practically forget about him. Obvious I remember that he exists, but when there are so many other things going on in my life… well, it’s easy to disregard everything that happened between me and him in the past week. I feel so guilty that I almost don’t even want to read his message, but I do it anyway.
I sigh. Carrick might actually be perfect, and it only makes me feel worse. I know I have to reply to him, though.
I don’t know how long this text conversation with him is going to last, but I can already tell that it’s only going to make me feel worse. Figuring that it’s safe to do so while the kids are asleep, I make my way to the kitchen to get a beer while I wait for Carrick’s reply.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but it almost seems like he’s asking when he’ll get to see me again. And the truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know how long this thing is going to interrupt all of our lives. I don’t know how long Natalie and Taylor will have to grieve this before they can get back to their normal lives.
That probably isn’t the answer – or answers, as it were – that he was looking for. But it’s the truth. What else can I tell him?
I know what he’s really asking, and I know how I should reply. I do. But of all the things I’ve done lately, is a little phone sex with Carrick really the worst of them? I think not. With that thought in mind, I type my reply.