Finger Paint
The next morning begins roughly the same way as the previous one. The only difference is that this time, I’m tucked safely into my own bed when I feel Shepherd’s little finger poking the side of my face.
“It’s time for breakfast,” he says matter-of-factly.
Well, I can’t argue with that, can I? I peel my eyes open and stare at him. For a moment, neither of us says anything. It’s a staring contest, as though the harder he stares into my eyes, the more I’ll want to cook breakfast. Or, alternately, the harder I stare into his eyes, the easier it’ll be to pry myself off the mattress. In the end, he wins. I roll over with a groan and sit up.
“Alright, breakfast time,” I reply.
“Daddy?” Shepherd says.
“Yeah buddy?”
“You smell.”
Well, that settles it. When your own son thinks you smell, you can’t really argue with that either. So it looks like my schedule for the day is breakfast and a shower. I think I can handle that.
At least Shep and Junia don’t seem to have any major complaints about my decision to feed them cereal again. I’m pretty sure even Junia knows how dangerous her daddy is in the kitchen. I don’t really want to have to explain to Kate how I burnt the house down trying to make Eggos, so… cereal it is and sandwiches it will be for lunch.
Once we’re all fed and I’ve got Junia safely in her playpen and Shep safely glued to a video game, it’s time for me to take a shower. Showering inevitably reminds me of the shower I shared just a few days ago with Carrick. It seems like weeks ago rather than days. I can’t help touching myself when I think about it – or when I remember my conversation with him last night. If you can even call it a conversation after it just devolved into both of us panting and moaning into our phones.
Yeah, I’m a horrible person. I’ve pretty much accepted this fact.
It doesn’t stop me, though. Just thinking about the things Carrick hinted at wanting to do to me gets me so worked up that it’s all over pretty quickly. With a soft moan, I’m done, and all evidence of just how awful I am is washing down the drain.
After sulking around my room for an appropriate length of time and trying to convince myself that I’m really not an awful dad for jerking off in the shower while my kids play downstairs, I head back down there to see how said kids are doing. They’re just fine, of course, because they’re kids – resilient and oblivious at the same time.
The rest of the morning progresses pretty easily. All I have to do is play a few games with both kids and not set anything on fire. It’s really not that difficult, even for me. Things are absolutely perfect until my phone starts ringing and I recognize Taylor’s ringtone. What the hell could he possibly want?
I pick the phone up and practically sprint to the kitchen, away from prying ears, before answering it. “Hello?”
“Hey, umm… hey.”
“Hey…” I reply. Taylor sounds… well, I’m not sure how he sounds, actually, but I don’t think it fits any definition of “good” that I can call to mind.
He coughs, then clears his throat a little. “Umm, I was just… I just wanted to see how you were doing. I know Kate came back last night.”
“Yeah, she did. She’s with Nat now…”
“I know,” Tay replies. “Umm, listen, I know she probably left the kids with you, but it’s just… I mean, shit, I don’t even remember the last time I had all four of these guys by myself. I’m slightly in over my head here… so could you just…”
“Do you need reinforcements?” I ask, trying not to laugh at how pathetic Taylor sounds. I know that’s entirely the wrong reaction to Taylor admitting there’s something he can’t do on his own, but it’s far too tempting to resist teasing him just a little.
“Please?” He asks, practically whining. “It’s just… Isaac will laugh at me, and Mom will pity me, and I really don’t need any of that.”
But me? I’ll do anything he asks of me. He knows that. “Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can get the kids ready, okay? I’ll have to bring them, but I think between the two of us, we can handle six kids. Probably.”
I’m really not as convinced as I sound, but Taylor’s desperate enough not to debate the issue. It doesn’t taken any convincing at all to get Shepherd and Junia on board with the plan to go spend the day with Uncle Taylor, either. He’s the fun uncle, of course. No surprises there, really. They’d probably just move in with him if they could.
The drive to Taylor’s passes by without incident. My kids are as quiet as ever and soon we’re pulling into his driveway. Taylor’s at the door before I’ve even managed to wrestle Junia out of her carseat, and he looks even worse than he sounded on the phone. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible, but he’s proven me wrong.
“Thank you so much for coming over,” he says, walking over and effortlessly unbuckling her and scooping her into his arms. He would make it look easy, even when he kind of smells and has what appears to be blue paint smeared across his cheek. “Fair warning. It’s kind of a disaster zone in there.”
“I’ve been living like a bachelor for a week,” I reply. “I think I can handle whatever your kids have done.”
“You might think that now…” Taylor says, holding the door open for me.
Shepherd shoots right past us both, nearly knocking me over the process. He skids around the corner, calling out to Viggo on his way. Since they’re practically the same age, they – and Monroe – are probably closer than any other combination of cousins in the family. I’m glad, though. It would kind of suck if our kids didn’t get along.
Taylor’s right, though. The house is a mess. There are toys scattered all over the living room and the distinct scent of something burning or recently burnt emanating from the kitchen. I follow Taylor that way and he tucks Junia into a high chair before collapsing into the regular chair next to it.
“Okay,” I say. “What happened?”
“I cooked lunch,” he says, as though that explains everything. It does and it doesn’t. Taylor’s a far better cook than me, but… well, the stench in the air speaks for itself.
“And… it didn’t go so well?” I offer, trying to prod him into telling me the entire story.
He shakes his head. “No. It did not. Grilled cheese for five should have been easy, right? Make and sandwich, hand it off, make the next one. Easy. Except, someone – and I’m not naming names, but he has red hair – decided to break out the finger paint while waiting for his lunch. And someone else – still not naming names, but he shares his with a body of water – decided to start a finger paint fight. They are currently in timeout, which is the only reason it’s so quiet in here. And no one has had lunch because I burned the very first sandwich running off to see why Penny was screaming. The answer? Blue paint in her hair.”
I let Taylor’s words, of which there were many, sink in for a moment before finally giving in to the giggles that have been threatening to overtake me ever since I answered his desperate phone call. Only Taylor and his children could manage to turn lunch into this big of a disaster.
“Okay,” I finally manage to squeak out between laughs. “I’m sorry. But we can handle this. They’re under control now, right?”
“I hope so. The silence is either a really good sign or a really, really scary sign. I’m hoping for the former.”
“Well, before we go investigate that, how about we make lunch?”
Taylor eyes me nervously. I can understand his concern. I did just suggest that I make lunch, and we both know that never ends well. The last time Taylor and I cooked together, we nearly blew up a grill – no, I don’t know how – and before that, we covered the entire family kitchen in nacho cheese. In our defense, we were nine and twelve when the latter incident occurred. While his cooking has improved, mine really hasn’t.
“Not grilled cheese,” I add quickly and Taylor breathes an obvious sigh of relief. “Nothing that requires actual cooking. I was thinking… peanut butter and jelly? We can handle that, right?”
“I think so,” he replies, then points a weak finger toward the counter. “The bread is over there… you know where the fridge is…”
“Hey, I came over here to help, not be your slave,” I reply, giving Taylor’s chair a gentle kick as I walk by on my way to the refrigerator.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I would be Taylor’s slave if he asked me… in any possible sense of the word. I’m glad my back is turned to him now, because I can feel not only my cheeks but my entire body heating up and no doubt turning bright red. I try to focus really hard on the task at hand so that I won’t think dirty thoughts about Taylor. It isn’t easy.
A moment later, he joins me, a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a stack of plates in the other. Leave it to Taylor to multitask and totally show me up. I’ve only just managed to locate a jar of grape jelly.
“Here,” he says, handing me the peanut butter, while still somehow managing to balance the plates.
Honestly, how does he do it? He invites me over because he thinks he’s incompetent, and then shows me up. It’s not really fair. I would complain, but there’s really no point.
Soon enough, he’s got the plates laid out on the counter, and we start an assembly line. Two slices of bread on each plate, I slather on the peanut butter, then Taylor follows behind and adds the jelly. Six sandwiches, done. We each carry three to the table and then Taylor leans his head out of the room and yells for the kids while I dig through the refrigerator for juice boxes.
The kids come flying into the room sounding like a herd of elephants. Penny lags a little behind the rest of them and gives Taylor puppy dog eyes after picking up her sandwich and glancing around the room. He gives her a nod and she rushes off with the sandwich, presumably to eat it somewhere far away from her evil, evil brothers.
The rest of them are so loud that I couldn’t say anything to Taylor now if I wanted to. It’s weird to be in such a noisy house; I remember what it was like, though. The seven of us were pretty noisy, even before there were seven of us. But for a long time now, it’s just been me and Kate and our two very, very quiet babies. Even though I don’t think Taylor’s family is much happier, you wouldn’t really know it just from watching the kids right now.
Once all the kids seem sufficiently distracted by trading their juice boxes – because of course I gave them the wrong flavors – Taylor ducks his head into the refrigerator again and emerges a moment later with two beers. He hands one to me with a small grin on his face.
“Figured we might both need this. If not yet, consider it a preemptive strike.”
“Works for me,” I reply, popping the tab on mine and taking a long gulp. “Once they get done eating, we’ll just divide and conquer. Keep the paint away from Penny’s hair, possibly separate the two painters… it’ll work. Somehow.”
“When did you get so smart about kids?” Taylor asks.
I shrug. “Probably because I still am one?”
Taylor chuckles, then chugs half his beer in one go. I decide it’s best not to remark on that. Instead, I just take a few more sips of mine, then make my way over to the table to see if Junia is having any trouble with her sandwich. She’s face first in it, but her method seems to be working pretty well, so I figure I’ll deal with the fallout later. I nod toward the living room and Taylor gives me a smile, grabbing my beer from the counter before following me.
We settle into the living room couch, where it’s only marginally quieter than the kitchen. It’ll do, though. For a while, neither of us says a word. We just sit there together, draining the rest of our beers. Finally, Taylor slams his can down on the coffee table.
“Thank you so much,” he says, scooting a tiny bit closer to me. “You didn’t have to come over.”
“Yeah, I kinda did,” I reply.
“Well, either way… I’m glad you’re here.”
Taylor sighs and lays his head against my shoulder. I really don’t know what else to say, but I guess maybe words aren’t even necessary right now. It’s nice to just enjoy this moment with him. It seems every moment we’ve had together lately has been interrupted by something or someone – usually Taylor himself, but not always. I just want to be with him for a moment, even if it’s just sitting together like this in a way that’s almost meaningless. To me, it means the world.
Soon, the sound of tiny footsteps catches our ears, and Taylor quickly jumps away from me. A moment later, Shepherd and Viggo appear in front of us.
“Daddy, can I show Shep my new video game? I think River has it…”
“Sure,” Taylor replies. “Tell River I said he better help you find it.”
Knowing that probably isn’t going to work, Taylor shoves himself up off the couch before Viggo and Shep are even out of the room. He gives me a quick look before disappearing around the corner, and I’m not quite sure what to make of it. It almost looked like he was just as sad to have our little moment interrupted as I was.
Could he be?
I don’t think I’ll ever really understand what’s going on in Taylor’s mind. The more I try, the farther I seem to be from actually gaining any insight. At some point, maybe I’ll lose all will to try, but it hasn’t happened yet.
A moment later, Taylor returns to the living room with Junia in his arms. He deposits her on the floor near us with some baby toy that he must have dug out of storage somewhere, then collapses on the couch next to me with a long sigh. Junia is totally distracted, so Taylor scoots just a tiny bit closer to me. He’s barely touching me this time, but it’s just as nice as before.
I know it will get interrupted again, but for however long as it lasts, I’m going to enjoy this moment.