“One more thing, and then I will be happy to fuck off.” Mack ate his last bite of taco and wiped his hands on his napkin. “You told this woman things you’ve never told anybody. You said she listens to you without judgment. You said she understands you. Right?”
They were my words, but they were hard to hear. “Yeah.”
“You said she baked you an apple pie.”
The piiiiiiie. “Yeah.”
“Plus, the sex was good.”
“The sex was incredible.”
“So what the fuck, man? If I had someone who I trusted, who listened to me, who understood me, who baked pies for me, and the sex was even marginal, I’d marry her. Like, tomorrow.”
I let that sink in. Sipped my beer.
“Because the incredible sex thing doesn’t last, believe me. It’s the other things that matter most. And before you know it, you’ve got three kids, no sex life, and the only talking you do is fighting. Next thing after that, you’re a single dad facing a lifetime of guilt, loneliness, and frozen cheesecake. Which your daughters will hate because ‘cheese does not belong in a dessert.’”
I looked over at him. “Sorry. That sucks.”
“It does.” He pitched his napkin onto his plate and checked his watch. “Which reminds me, I should head out soon. My sitter only had an hour or so.”
“No problem.” I wanted to be alone with my misery anyway. Mack wasn’t seeing things like I was, and I was tired of being on the defensive.
He took some cash from his wallet and tossed it onto the bar. “You okay to drive home?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna sit here for a while. I’ll have some coffee.”
“Okay.” He put his jacket on, adjusted his collar, and clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful on the road, Woods. You’re an asshole, but I don’t want to lose you.”
A smile tugged at my mouth and I patted his hand twice. “Get the fuck out of here.”
He took off, and I sat there by myself for another hour or so, drinking coffee and thinking about what I’d done. No matter what Mack said, I’d made the right decision. I must have been fucking crazy to think I could ever be someone’s boyfriend or husband. It was too hard, too fraught with complications, too dangerous. You had to give too much of yourself. I wasn’t capable. I’d never been capable.
So why did it feel like my heart was being crushed in a vise?
Around eleven, I left Bayside and got into my truck. I started the engine, but then sat there for a few minutes.
I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to sleep in the bed that would remind me of her. I didn’t want to smell her on the sheets.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I texted Mack.
Hey. Can I crash at your place?
He replied right away. Sure.
He didn’t ask why. I loved that about him. If he had, I’d have said something about one too many beers and him living closer, but I wasn’t drunk or even buzzed. I made the five minute drive to Mack’s with no trouble, and parked on the street.
The house was dark, and I knocked softly, figuring the kids were in bed.
Mack opened the door and stood back. “Hey. Couch is all yours. Sorry I don’t have any extra beds.”
“No problem. Couch is perfect.”
“You know where it is,” he said, locking the door behind me and heading up the stairs.
“Yeah. Thanks.” I used the bathroom and went into the family room, where one lamp was still on. Mack had also thrown a pillow and blanket on the couch. I took my shoes off, turned out the light and stretched out. Immediately, something dug into my back, and I frowned, reaching beneath me. Switching the lamp on again, I discovered it was a Barbie doll. And actually, it kind of reminded me of Stella.
I stared at it longingly for a moment before getting disgusted with myself and hurling it angrily across the room. Then I felt bad about it, because what if one of his daughters saw the doll had been thrown over there and got upset?
I got up, retrieved the Barbie, and tossed it in a box full of Legos by the TV. Then I saw there was a little pink bed on the floor right next to the couch, so I went back to the Lego box, got the Barbie, and put her in the bed. Then I turned off the light again and lay back down.
But being at Mack’s didn’t help. When I closed my eyes, she was all I could see. When I took a breath, I could smell her. When I tried to block out the taste of her skin or the sound of her voice or the feel of her body next to mine, I failed again and again.
She was under my skin.
I opened my eyes the next morning to find three little girls in pajamas standing next to the couch. They reminded me of those Russian dolls, each one smaller than the next. And they were all staring at me.
“Were you playing Barbies?” asked the tallest one, a note of suspicion in her voice.
“Daddy says you know how to make unicorn pancakes,” said the one in the middle.
“Are you Santa?” questioned the littlest, although she had a lisp so it came out more like thanta.
“Duh, Winifred, he doesn’t even have a beard!”
“So what? He could still be Santa.” She looked at me hopefully. “Are you?”
“Uh, no.” I sat up and looked around for my phone. What the hell time was it? “Is your dad up yet?”
“We tried to wake him up to make breakfast, but he said to come wake you up instead.” Millie eyed me critically. “Do you know how to make anything gluten free?”
“Can I play a game on your phone?” the middle one asked, holding it up.
“I don’t have any games, sorry.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Hey, can I get that back?”
“Sure.” She handed it over, clearly uninterested since I had no games.
I had no new messages, which shouldn’t have depressed me, but it did. It was just after seven, and I wondered what time Stella was leaving today. I needed to avoid running into her if I could.
“What’s your name?” asked the little one.
“Ryan. What’s yours?”
“Winifred.”
I looked at the older two. “And you’re Millie, right?” I asked the taller of them. “And you’re …” I thought hard. “Felicia?”
“Felicity,” she said, but she seemed happy I was close. “Do you have any kids?”
“Nope.”
All three of them looked sad about it.
“But if your dad says it’s okay, I can go get some doughnuts.”
“Yay!” they shouted, taking off at a run and pounding up the stairs, even gluten-free Millie.
Mack said it was fine, so I ran to a bakery and picked up a dozen different kinds of doughnuts and a couple large coffees. When I got back, I ate breakfast with them, then I stayed long enough for Millie to give a piano recital, Felicity to show me her collection of Petoskey stones, and Winifred to introduce me to every one of her stuffed animals.
Finally, it was nearing eleven, and I really couldn’t think of a reason to hang out any longer. Plus, I’d promised Mrs. Gardner I’d paint those new boards on her porch. I didn’t want to flake on that.
“Guess I’ll take off,” I said to Mack.
“I’ll walk you out.” He threw a cap on his head and followed me out to the street where I was parked.
“Thanks for letting me crash,” I said, unlocking the truck.
“Anytime. You’re not too bad at the dad stuff,” he said. “I should call you to babysit.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
He shrugged, his arms folded across his chest. “I’ve got no choice.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“How did you know you wanted to be a father?”
“Carla told me she was pregnant with Millie.”
“How did you know you’d be good at it?”
“I didn’t. I was scared shitless. I still am. But those girls are everything to me. They keep me going on my worst days and make the good days better. They’re all my reasons.”
On the ride home, I tried to imagine being a parent on my own and couldn’t. I tried to imagine being a parent with someone else and couldn’t. But when I imagined what I would do if Stella came to me and said she was pregnant with my child, I felt an undeniable pull deep within me.
They were my words, but they were hard to hear. “Yeah.”
“You said she baked you an apple pie.”
The piiiiiiie. “Yeah.”
“Plus, the sex was good.”
“The sex was incredible.”
“So what the fuck, man? If I had someone who I trusted, who listened to me, who understood me, who baked pies for me, and the sex was even marginal, I’d marry her. Like, tomorrow.”
I let that sink in. Sipped my beer.
“Because the incredible sex thing doesn’t last, believe me. It’s the other things that matter most. And before you know it, you’ve got three kids, no sex life, and the only talking you do is fighting. Next thing after that, you’re a single dad facing a lifetime of guilt, loneliness, and frozen cheesecake. Which your daughters will hate because ‘cheese does not belong in a dessert.’”
I looked over at him. “Sorry. That sucks.”
“It does.” He pitched his napkin onto his plate and checked his watch. “Which reminds me, I should head out soon. My sitter only had an hour or so.”
“No problem.” I wanted to be alone with my misery anyway. Mack wasn’t seeing things like I was, and I was tired of being on the defensive.
He took some cash from his wallet and tossed it onto the bar. “You okay to drive home?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna sit here for a while. I’ll have some coffee.”
“Okay.” He put his jacket on, adjusted his collar, and clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful on the road, Woods. You’re an asshole, but I don’t want to lose you.”
A smile tugged at my mouth and I patted his hand twice. “Get the fuck out of here.”
He took off, and I sat there by myself for another hour or so, drinking coffee and thinking about what I’d done. No matter what Mack said, I’d made the right decision. I must have been fucking crazy to think I could ever be someone’s boyfriend or husband. It was too hard, too fraught with complications, too dangerous. You had to give too much of yourself. I wasn’t capable. I’d never been capable.
So why did it feel like my heart was being crushed in a vise?
Around eleven, I left Bayside and got into my truck. I started the engine, but then sat there for a few minutes.
I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to sleep in the bed that would remind me of her. I didn’t want to smell her on the sheets.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I texted Mack.
Hey. Can I crash at your place?
He replied right away. Sure.
He didn’t ask why. I loved that about him. If he had, I’d have said something about one too many beers and him living closer, but I wasn’t drunk or even buzzed. I made the five minute drive to Mack’s with no trouble, and parked on the street.
The house was dark, and I knocked softly, figuring the kids were in bed.
Mack opened the door and stood back. “Hey. Couch is all yours. Sorry I don’t have any extra beds.”
“No problem. Couch is perfect.”
“You know where it is,” he said, locking the door behind me and heading up the stairs.
“Yeah. Thanks.” I used the bathroom and went into the family room, where one lamp was still on. Mack had also thrown a pillow and blanket on the couch. I took my shoes off, turned out the light and stretched out. Immediately, something dug into my back, and I frowned, reaching beneath me. Switching the lamp on again, I discovered it was a Barbie doll. And actually, it kind of reminded me of Stella.
I stared at it longingly for a moment before getting disgusted with myself and hurling it angrily across the room. Then I felt bad about it, because what if one of his daughters saw the doll had been thrown over there and got upset?
I got up, retrieved the Barbie, and tossed it in a box full of Legos by the TV. Then I saw there was a little pink bed on the floor right next to the couch, so I went back to the Lego box, got the Barbie, and put her in the bed. Then I turned off the light again and lay back down.
But being at Mack’s didn’t help. When I closed my eyes, she was all I could see. When I took a breath, I could smell her. When I tried to block out the taste of her skin or the sound of her voice or the feel of her body next to mine, I failed again and again.
She was under my skin.
I opened my eyes the next morning to find three little girls in pajamas standing next to the couch. They reminded me of those Russian dolls, each one smaller than the next. And they were all staring at me.
“Were you playing Barbies?” asked the tallest one, a note of suspicion in her voice.
“Daddy says you know how to make unicorn pancakes,” said the one in the middle.
“Are you Santa?” questioned the littlest, although she had a lisp so it came out more like thanta.
“Duh, Winifred, he doesn’t even have a beard!”
“So what? He could still be Santa.” She looked at me hopefully. “Are you?”
“Uh, no.” I sat up and looked around for my phone. What the hell time was it? “Is your dad up yet?”
“We tried to wake him up to make breakfast, but he said to come wake you up instead.” Millie eyed me critically. “Do you know how to make anything gluten free?”
“Can I play a game on your phone?” the middle one asked, holding it up.
“I don’t have any games, sorry.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Hey, can I get that back?”
“Sure.” She handed it over, clearly uninterested since I had no games.
I had no new messages, which shouldn’t have depressed me, but it did. It was just after seven, and I wondered what time Stella was leaving today. I needed to avoid running into her if I could.
“What’s your name?” asked the little one.
“Ryan. What’s yours?”
“Winifred.”
I looked at the older two. “And you’re Millie, right?” I asked the taller of them. “And you’re …” I thought hard. “Felicia?”
“Felicity,” she said, but she seemed happy I was close. “Do you have any kids?”
“Nope.”
All three of them looked sad about it.
“But if your dad says it’s okay, I can go get some doughnuts.”
“Yay!” they shouted, taking off at a run and pounding up the stairs, even gluten-free Millie.
Mack said it was fine, so I ran to a bakery and picked up a dozen different kinds of doughnuts and a couple large coffees. When I got back, I ate breakfast with them, then I stayed long enough for Millie to give a piano recital, Felicity to show me her collection of Petoskey stones, and Winifred to introduce me to every one of her stuffed animals.
Finally, it was nearing eleven, and I really couldn’t think of a reason to hang out any longer. Plus, I’d promised Mrs. Gardner I’d paint those new boards on her porch. I didn’t want to flake on that.
“Guess I’ll take off,” I said to Mack.
“I’ll walk you out.” He threw a cap on his head and followed me out to the street where I was parked.
“Thanks for letting me crash,” I said, unlocking the truck.
“Anytime. You’re not too bad at the dad stuff,” he said. “I should call you to babysit.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
He shrugged, his arms folded across his chest. “I’ve got no choice.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“How did you know you wanted to be a father?”
“Carla told me she was pregnant with Millie.”
“How did you know you’d be good at it?”
“I didn’t. I was scared shitless. I still am. But those girls are everything to me. They keep me going on my worst days and make the good days better. They’re all my reasons.”
On the ride home, I tried to imagine being a parent on my own and couldn’t. I tried to imagine being a parent with someone else and couldn’t. But when I imagined what I would do if Stella came to me and said she was pregnant with my child, I felt an undeniable pull deep within me.
