Mr. Man – By Kris

Mr. Man By: Kris

Now what to do? Dishes are done just purely so I can dirty some more and I won’t touch the laundry and it’s just too pointless to pick up all the toys lining the floor. “The entire downstairs floor.” I rub the back of my neck absently as my eyes look over the war zone in front of me. Taking a step or two forward, I lightly kicked a block and watch it slide across the recently scrubbed floor, “Why bother?”

Why bother with what exactly? Well, why bother spending twenty minutes to locate the floor again just so he can run around and cover it back up again. And also, why bother having so many toys? Not like he actually plays with any of them. And if what they say is true, his memory and attention span are so short that within minutes he would forget that he already played with the five random toys and begin again. Seriously. Why bother?

Brady never had this many. Neither did Belle. So how did this happen?

I shake my head as I toss the towel down on the breakfast counter before crossing the kitchen and leaning against the banister. I look out over the sunken family room and can’t help roll my eyes at all the balls, blocks, weird objects that squish, even weirder ones that make odd and rather disturbing noises, the larger ones that sing their hearts out when you barely touch it and spin brightly coloured pieces around to amuse the child’s mind and can’t forget the nice and simple, old fashioned dump truck. Shit, I’m so old because none of Brady’s toys sang to me. That’s when you know that you are too old to deal with this all day. My son is so old that his toys didn’t sing. Or really even make noises. He had one once that if you pulled the string it would say four words but that would be the extent of it. I guess a few sang a bit. Didn’t light up though. Here… laying all around here are things that speak and talk and sing and… and it’s just god-awful. Annoying little things with annoying little songs. Like it helps educate a child faster by having the ABC song tossed at them from day one. Unnecessary racket.

Time… time… what is the time? Naturally, my eyes scan over the walls in search for a clock and then, as always, just end up on my wrist as I move my watch to see the hands pointing at their random positions, “12:28.” Its past noon. Shit, where does the time go? Honestly, where does it all go?

I look at my briefcase sitting idly on the table behind me as my mind considers picking it up and attempting some work quickly, but if he sleeps much longer, an afternoon nap just won’t happen. Sighing again, I run a hand over my face and look back at the toys, “Wake up call it is.”

Moving through the kitchen, I take a second to switch off the obnoxious sound of the baby monitor, before I head down the hall. How I hate this wallpaper. I honestly do. I told her not to. Told her it looked like the basement of an old church, but she put it up anyways. Never listens to me. The yellow… it’s just terrible. An awful colour and those flowers… my God. Could wallpaper be any more harmful to a person’s psyche as that? I’m thinking not. And she’s a shrink, one would think she would realize how this will affect the minds of our family. The yellow… looks like pee or a paper that has just been forgotten and rotting away for a couple of decades. It’s the colour you try to make your history report look like for extra credit, not a pretty and cheery way to greet friends. And she actually wonders why nobody wishes to enter from the front door or why the baby gates always keep the little guy from making his way down here? It’s just wrong and I can’t believe I am still standing here looking at it.

I wonder if I rip off one of the stupid orange flowers, she’ll redo it all properly?

One last look over an orange flower, I smirk and am gone. I move to the right and down a little ways before I look back again. This really is the weirdest set up for a house I’ve ever seen. The foyer is so open but then it gets so tight up front and then in the back it’s so opened. There is just something off about this set up, like it needed to come out a few more feet but they ran out of land or money. Wonder what she would say if I suggest tearing down the front of the house and extending it past the sidewalk?

“I’ll get hit. Yeah… Moving.” Turning sharply I take the stairs two at a time, not really caring if I wake him up. Why be quiet on the way to wake somebody up? Seems rather pointless in my opinion.

Opening his door slowly, I look around it to see him sitting up in his bed, happily playing with his blanket and binki. Shaking my head in defeat. Could have had a few more minutes to work without ruining his afternoon nap. I sigh out a deep breath because that’s just how life works. Stepping in, I can’t help but smile as his eyes light up in seeing me. Paperwork doesn’t do that.

Moving towards his crib, “Hey there Mr. Man. Sleep well?” I run a hand over his thick black hair, before reaching out my hands to him, “Want out?”

I chuckle as he immediately drops the blanket and begins to stand up to move towards me, “There we are.” Once settled on my hip, “Binki please.” I watch as he removes it from his mouth and tosses it down into his crib, softly waving goodbye to it. “Good boy. Let’s get you dressed.”

I do see the point, sort of, of keeping him in his pajamas till after his morning nap, but really, what is the point of changing him before lunch? Less stairs to walk I guess, but it’s really is a screwed up routine. But one must always follow the routine. Rolling my eyes at this thought, I move with him into his closet, “So what should it be today?”

I hold him close to the dangling pants, spreading them out so that he can see each one nicely enough and I wait while he sizes up his options. It’s very important to look good for one’s high chair and toys. The world really is mad. My laugh doesn’t cause him to stir from his decision at hand. Finally reaching for the orange overalls, I take them from his grasp and move further into the closet to look over all the onesies hanging in perfect rows before us. “Okay Mr. Man, we need a short sleeved one. We can have the very fashionable plain white, the even better plain black…” I continue to flip through, but am stopped as he leans dramatically forward to grab hold of his choice, “Umm… no no. You’ll look like a pumpkin with green. That’s not a very good choice, so let’s try again.” Untangling his fingers from the particular poor choice, I pull out one of my own, “There. Cream with some rather tacky boats all over it.” Leaning into his ear, I share a secret with him, “Therefore, your mom won’t attack me for always dressing you in the same outfit. Come on.”

Standing him up on his changing table, I begin to strip off his shirt before pulling down the pajama pants, lifting him quickly to pull them off of his feet and reaching for the buttons on the shoulder of his onesie. Unsnapping those and the ones on the bottom, I pull that rather ungracefully over his head, “My God man, why do they make these things so tight?” Laying him down, “Or perhaps you just have a large head.” I see a pout forming on his lips and laugh lightly, “Hey, it’s not a bad thing. Your mom says the same thing about mine so don’t worry. All handsome guys have one.” His pout continues to deepen as he squirms mightily against my hand holding down his stomach.

“Hey now, I have to change your diaper. You just calm down. Yeah… calm down.” Leaning down, I blow on his stomach to distract him slightly as I reach into the drawer for a clean diaper and wipes. Undoing his, I wipe him down quickly, but am failing miserably with the diaper as he desperately continues to try and turn over. “Logan…” My voice lacks any warning whatsoever because can you blame the kid? Reaching for another wipe, “Here.” I watch as he takes it and immediately moves to put it into his mouth. Grabbing it back, “Okay… no that was a bad choice. Here, have a diaper.” As he amuses himself with it, I make quick work of his diaper, making sure not to cut off his circulation, yet not let it come undone, before reaching for his onesie and pulling it over his head. A small fight with his arms and diaper and four buttons later, we are just about done. I pull the over-alls up his legs before helping him stand. He leans onto my shoulders as I snap the buckles into place and he is just about ready.

Sitting him back down, I pull open the drawer at my side and pull out orange socks, “Gotta match, right? Sock.” His mouth opens and lets out a drawn out, “Sss oooo” and I can’t help but nod my head, “That a boy. Sock.” He lets out the same sound as he sticks out a bare foot for me to cover. “It’s progressing.” With those in place, I toss him back onto my hip and dispose of the soiled diaper before making our way back downstairs to the war zone. As we cross the foyer and make our way back down the ugly hallway, “Don’t look.” Stepping back into the kitchen, I move down to the family room and place him amongst all of his toys before moving back up to begin lunch.

Popping the top on a Gerber mac and cheese, I place it in the microwave and hit the minute button. “Bread…” I toss the bread on the breakfast counter and reach into the frig to toss a piece of cheese up with it, sloppily swing the carton of milk from the shelf to the counter before popping a grape into my mouth and turning back to the contents. My eyes glance up to see Logan playing contently with his ball machine. His small hand comes up to knock the ball down. The music starts, his hips move as the ball twists and turns its path down to the bottom and pops out one of four holes. A little too excitedly, he claps and bends over to pick it up, only to fall. I let out a “Boooom…” and receive a cheeky smile from the toddler. “Hey now… you can say it. Booom.” A smile creeps across my face as he copies my tone and lets out a very realistic boom.

Back to lunch. Two pieces of bread, cheese in the middle and it flattened as well as one can flatten such a sandwich. Moving towards his high-chair with sandwich in hand, I pop open the microwave to allow the cooling to begin before removing the tray of his chair onto the kitchen table. Pulling apart the sandwich, I place pieces all over the white tray and move over to Logan’s cabinet, opening it in search of a spoon and a tippy-cup. Spoon is simple but there are no cups in sight.

Toy hitting floor causes me to turn and watch as Logan makes his way up the three stairs into the kitchen. He barely takes a step before sliding and hitting his padded butt with a loud thud. And there is the pout, “Hey now… you’re alright Mr. Man. Yeah, you are fine. Taking it like a man.” Walking towards him, I pull off his socks and toss them into my back pocket. “Now what did you do with your cups?” I smile down at him, “Yeah, where are Logan’s cups?”

“Uuup…” I watch him walk towards the dishwasher. The drunken sailor walk was pretty precious, I have to admit and I’m actually saddened to see it gone from his strut. It also amazes me how smart they are. Like how and why does he know that that machine washes his cups, yet I ask where it went to and he knows and yes, he is very right.

Pouring what is left of the milk into his cup, I move my legs slightly as he circles around one leg and then the other, before putting his head through and looking up at me. I smile down at him, “Boo.” Again, he nicely copies me. We are definitely getting the ‘B’ words down. “Cat” slides through my lips slowly and I receive something sounding very close to ‘at.’ Again progressive. That damn hard ‘c’ sound. I turn my upper body and grab him around the waist, pulling him upside down and into the air. As I right him, I blow a sloppy kiss on his cheek as he returns the favour by leaning in and giving me a rather sloppy open mouth kiss. Wiping my mouth, “We should work on that sometime.” Tickling him, I go to toss out the milk carton, “Remind me that we have to go get more, okay?” My answer is two hands cupping my cheek and an open mouth coming my way again. Kissing him, I move slightly and blow a raspberry on the side of his neck to get a loud squeal out of him before moving back around the counter. I sit him down in his chair, desperate to distract him from realizing that I am buckling him in. As the tray snaps in place, I tie a bib around his neck and leave him to his sandwich as I check the rest of the stuff.

Looking over my shoulder, “Hey now, one at a time Mr. Man. One at a time. No chocking, you got that? Today is a no choking day. Save that for mommy.” Well shit, shouldn’t have said anything because now his arms are moving wildly and causing the pieces of bread to fall over the sides as he makes insane boylike sounds. Crouching down to pick up a few, I toss them back up and put one into his mouth, but am received by a tightly closed off mouth and a slap on the hand. “You need to eat.” And I get a shake of the head. So, not exactly answering me, but showing me none the less that a sandwich is seriously not about to work here. As I turn, I barely feel something hit my arm. Looking down I see a piece of the bread, “Now that was uncalled for.” Scooping up the bread, I toss them into the sink and ignore the rather loud protest from the one year old.

Grabbing milk, spoon and mac and cheese, I head back over to sit down next to him. A finger into the gooey mess, I check to make sure it’s edible before scooping one up onto the spoon and bringing it towards him. Dodging a hand, I finally get to and into his mouth. “See, this is how it goes.” Or not, as the next one ends up down his bib and not in the mouth. “No hands… no.” I try to hold down one hand but the growl mixed with a slap causes me to lose that battle. Drunken sailor days also meant no fighting at lunchtime. I attempt again, but am met with another grabbing hand. Again and again and again and now there is mac and cheese anywhere and everywhere but in his mouth. Spoon moving, his head shaking and a small hand grabbing at mine. Over and over. Well fuck, I’m totally losing to a baby who has only been on this earth for thirteen months. This is just not right. Seriously, it’s not right.

“Well, aren’t you being a rather annoying little thing this afternoon? Your mommy will not be pleased so what do you want?” Like that is going to help me. The golden boy with an eight word and seven sound vocabulary. I arch my eyebrows as he rapidly hits his open mouth with the back of his hand, causing an Indian sound to filter through the room. Shaking my head, I put down the spoon on his tray and the container on the counter as I move towards his cupboard once again. “Now what should we try? Hmm?”

As I move towards him, the sound of the phone causes me to redirect my destination. My fingers move to hit talk, but I’m never going to be able to hear anything as his sounds increase. “Hello.”

“Hey handsome. How are my boys doing?”

“Smashing. Just listen…” I hold up the phone and allow a few seconds of noise slide over into her ear before speaking again, “Its lunchtime and obviously, it’s a hit. As always.” I roll my eyes and she calls me on it.

“Stop rolling. He’ll eat something. He didn’t have much breakfast so he’s got to be hungry.”

“Don’t tell me that darling, inform your son. This is your portion of the genetics at work. We Blacks eat anything happily. Belle and Brady always were and always will be garbage disposals and you, food can’t touch each other and can only like four things per year… this is- -“

I hear her playfully annoyed voice, “Shut it. I think it’s more a phase combined with teething.” Sighing into the phone, I can tell she is tired. Been a long week for her. Constant work. Not sure if this tour of the Women’s Empowerment whatever will kick off because we’re all tired and this is already wearing her quite thin. The choices and sacrifices that need to be made. “Will you just attempt random things please and get something in him? Even if it’s by leaving something out in a bowl for him to munch on.”

“That won’t teach him anything, Doc.”

“I know, we’ll be better parents tomorrow but he hasn’t eaten anything.”

The boy won’t starve, but try convincing her of that. Smiling instead, I let my tone cheer her up, “I know that since I was the one poorly feeding him that breakfast. I will put it into a blender if necessary.” As she giggles out her thanks, I move towards the little boy, “Logan… say Hi to your mom. Say Hi.”

My grin grows as his lips part and out slides a very gentle and soft, “Hi” and is followed by a nice combination of “mu mu mu” and banging on his tray. “See… he’s just fine so don’t worry. And the doctor will tell you all that next week so please, stop worrying.”

“I’m the mom. I can worry about anything I want to. After all those hours of labour, you better believe I want to keep him in good condition.”

Laughing, I rub the side of my nose, “He isn’t a pair of shoes. How are things going there?”

“Long but they are moving a long much better than this morning. Now I have hope I may actually see an end in the days to come.” There is a pause and I wait for her… wait for the sigh that does come as my heart melts, “I miss you. I miss you both. Thought I needed a break and this would be perfect but… but think I only needed a night with the girls, not a vacation.”

“You are calling that a vacation? Oh no my dear, you really do need to get out more.”

“No thank you. I choose home. Did you find a sitter for tonight?”

Putting some random cut up pieces of fruit on Logan’s tray, “Never looked. He is just going to come and he can crash there.” I place down a couple cheese covered noodles and before I can finish, I hear the doorbell ring. Sliding the phone to my shoulder, “Be right back buddy.” I move towards the door, I answer Marlena’s typical question, “Not sure sweetheart. Give me a second.”

Pulling open the door, “Can I help you?” Rather stupid to ask since the man is standing there with a package in hand and that is obviously his purpose for being on my front porch but, it’s a reflexive question. I sign quickly, take the package, tip the gentleman and turn around quickly to readjust the phone. “Oh, it’s just the profiles on Basic Black’s new talent. More shit to read. More photos of girls who look just like all the others. Why do they send me this stuff?”

“Um, perhaps because you are the boss?”

“So doesn’t that mean I have employees to look at this shit for me? It’s pointless.”

I notice that the sound effects have quieted and I move quickly back to the kitchen to see what the little monster has gotten into now but can only look on a bit stunned as he uses his hand and spoon in a rather uncoordinated manner to get a piece of the food into his mouth. “Oh my God… Doc… he’s using the spoon by himself.”

“What!?”

I can’t help but laugh at her shocked reply, “I’m serious. Its rather uncoordinated and lacks any flare and he misses a lot and – -“ I’m stopped again by her. She isn’t caring how poor his skills are, she wants to know all the details.

“No honey, I don’t normally tape his lunches and by the time I find and start the camera I would have missed it all. You’ll see it soon.” I lean against the counter, fold my arms across my chest and simply watch as he does it again and finally with the third piece.

“I miss him. I want my handsome boy and I have to go. This just sucks.”

“I know it does Doc. We men miss you terribly too, but you’ll be back soon to annoy us and keep us in line so enjoy yourself a little. Go out. Go to a club. Drink or shop. Logan and I will build you a closet for your welcome home present.”

Her laughter is kind of muffled and I know it’s because tears are forming in her eyes and she isn’t about to try to keep them from falling. It’s okay to be homesick, especially when you know that’s where your life is, “I hate you. Love you desperately, but hate you none the less.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Call me when you have time or sooner if you need to be tucked in. You can sing to Logan again. I love you.”

She’s trying not to cry this time. Sometimes I think she just shouldn’t call and then it would be easier on her. But be harder on me because I enjoy these calls. Her time away is hard, but I will admit, there are moments like these that are worth it. Being apart reminds us not to take our time together for granted and I love that.

Hanging up the phone, I set it back down as I notice that Logan’s eyes have moved down to his lap as he tries to pick up a piece of mac and cheese down there, but as his attempts fail, on come the loud noises, crazy arm movements and banging of that poor spoon on the tray. “Such a noisy little monster.”

I push off the counter and move towards him. Placing some more cheese covered noodles in front of him, I allow him to feed himself piece by piece. I sit down, place his milk on the side of his tray for him to reach when necessary and pull my briefcase near me. Tugging at a folder, I begin to look over the contents as I keep a small eye on him and ears open for any major moments.

One line. Followed by another line. Some names. Some numbers. Sold so many units in April and that compares to March as shown in clauses A, B and C. What is the point? Who cares? I’m ignoring my little guy to read some shitty facts that I don’t really need to know because I’ll just be told them again at the meeting so what honestly is the point of all this? That’s just it. There isn’t a point. No point at all.

I toss the folder back into my brief case and close it rather forcibly, causing Logan to look up at me in curiosity before going back to his mess. Cheese everywhere… yellow cheese all over his face, bib, tray, hands, arms, most likely his lap and, “No no no…” I pull his hands away but not fast enough to save the hair from a cheesy bath. “Ugh. That is just down right, Mr. Man. Nasty. Why did you have to go and do a thing like that, huh? Oh no, don’t be touching me with those hands.”

Washing my hands, I move back to his cabinet one more time to pull out some more fruit. Popping the lid, I dig into it and place some pieces all around the macaroni mess for him to scoop up. “There, more things to play with. Eat up. Milk?” I hand him his cup and watch two tiny, cheese covered hands clutch onto the cup and put an equally unclean mouth onto it. I groan as the drool mixed with cheese and milk slides down his chin and onto his bib, “This is just gross Mr. Man. Come on now, show a little class here.” Putting it down with a loud thud, a chubby face blowing raspberries at me is my only response.

“Classy answer. Your mommy taught you that one. I need to have a chat with her. Need to be taught how to eat like a man.” I see a piece of pear on the spoon but instead of it moving towards his own mouth, it is rather unsteadily moving towards me. Well fuck. I’m not about to eat that. No way, but those eyes. Big hazel eyes staring down at me. How on earth can I say no to those eyes? Always my downfall. No matter which of the two they belong to, I always fall. So my mouth opens, I take the fruit and swallow quickly as a “Yummm…” is let out. Not so bad, as long as you don’t think of where that spoon as been. But even so, it’s not so bad. Besides, look at that cheeky grin. It’s all worth it.

Examining the tray, it is basically empty and as I put some more fruit down on it, the earlier bread spastic scene is back as spoon and hand fly across the tray, sending all the chunks of fruit in all directions. “No, Logan stop that.” I grab onto the spoon hand and attempt to collect all the chunks that I can. Tossing them into the sink also, I let him whine a bit as I attempt to clean up the floor. Noises and more noises. Is this all this kid can do is make noises? Some of them I can’t even begin to describe, much less figure out how or why he makes them.

Turning on the facet, I let the water run all the unwanted food down the drain before taking a wash-cloth to his hands and face quickly, removing the tray, unbuckling him and making a fast move towards the sink. I keep him stretch out in front of me so that he cannot make any move to touch my clothes. Sitting him on the edge of the sink, I untie the bib and move one hand, then the other under the falling water before rewiping his mouth, nose, cheeks, chin, and lastly hair.

Leaning down to blow on his cheek, “See this is why you should be dressed after lunch. Should be lunch, bath and then dressed because this is ridiculous. You are a mess.” Another quick wipe down and then towel dry and he is ready to tear across the floor once again. He runs, he makes noises; I call out to him as I clean up his seat. There are moments when I feel that this is so very wrong. That’s not a bad thing or an insult. It’s just there are moments my mind looks at this situation and ends up shaking its own head in confusion. How did this happen? Is there an answer? No. There isn’t but I’m so very thankful it did happen.

Just so very… so very intriguing. Always something new. I may have two of my own and helped raise two others at this stage, but I’m now a grandfather. Grandfathering duties are simple, this is not so simple. Logan is the same type of kid as his siblings, yet so very different as well. Amazing what twenty years does to a person. Oh shit… never put that into numbers again.

But intriguing definitely describes this all. As I toss the washcloth back into the sink, I listen for him and hear the banging on the wall and the giggle as he makes his way around the corner of the dining room. Moving round, I jog quickly around in another direction and sneak up on him from behind, “Gotcha!” His squeal mixes with my laughter as I tickle his sides and kiss his cheek. So ticklish. So very ticklish in all the same spots. Just incredible. I can tickle him and Marlena in the exact same spots and receive the exact same response. That alone makes this all worth while.

He really is the perfect combination of us both. Everything that makes her so sweet, determined, and just so unbearably perfect is in him. But in those dark eyes, he has my drive, my stubbornness and I’m positive my honesty. Already he shows that he knows what he likes and wants nothing to do with the rest.

I allow him to escape as I chase after him on hands and knees. He runs. He giggles. He stops to check that I am still coming before clapping wildly and running away from me once again. It’s so dull. It’s so boring. It’s rather pathetic and yet, I’m grinning like an idiot. I always do. Just something about how his eyes light up and how the smallest things make him shake with excitement. A simple game of tag. Nothing major about it. The very basic of games and he is ready to pee in his diaper from excitement. Why must life change so much?

I speed up and catch him again. Pulling him back into my lap, I begin the traditional reward of tickling, kissing and tossing him around before placing him back on his feet. The slight rocking of my movements in the air cause him to be dizzy and it only takes a step for his balance to be thrown off enough for him to tumble back to the ground. “Boom…” Smiling at me, he wipes off his hands and lets out his own, deep, almost a growl, “Booooooom.” Bending over, he picks at his bare toes and looks up at me, shaking his head as he states simply, “Ssssoooo…”

“That’s right. No socks. Logan’s socks all gone.” His hands come up to display ‘all gone’ for me as he spins around in a rather pitiful attempt to search out the socks. So kids may be brilliant, but they are also rather stupid at the same time. The big concepts they seem to grasp, just not the little details. But neither do all adults so can’t blame the little ones.

Picking him up, I rub my nose against his stomach, causing him to giggle loudly. It’s a sound I can never get enough of. Holding him in front of me, “Where is daddy’s nose?” His finger moves to point at his own nose, “No, where is daddy’s nose?” Again, his finger begins to move but stops as he abruptly moves forward and gives my nose one of his famous kisses. I return the favour, pulling him in tight and kissing his own tiny nose.

Life may be intriguing and sometimes rather dull, but I would never trade this. Not for anything. Who would have thought I would be ready to do this all again.

Honestly? Not me.
Page 2 of 8I stare down at the two large hazel eyes that are staring back up. And so we stare. He’ll win. He always wins this game. He’s brilliant at staring ‘till the adult is so unnerved that they have to look away. I know what he wants so I sigh and look away for a moment.

Speaking into the phone that always seems to be cradled between my shoulder and ear these days, “Okay okay okay… I give. You win. Do whatever it is that you want, no matter if it screws us over or not. You know where I stand. I vote no, but am taking this no further. Fax the results to me and the documents to look over by tonight.” I pause and rub the tense creases in my forehead, “I don’t know when Marlena will return and that won’t change anything. I have her proxy and she’s a no. Holding off the vote means nothing. God damnit Jase! It’s a fu- -” I look down and see Logan still staring at me. He can tell I’m angry and frustrated. Sighing again, I take in a deep breath and turn away from him, “It’s a bloody merger and its not to be taken lightly. H & B will run us dry and I won’t allow that of my company so we’ll figure something else out without their so called profits. Yes… yes…” I switch sides with the phone, “I have a backup plan and funds so we’ll be fine. Say no Jase. I’m asking you not as a friend but a business partner, say no.”

Feeling hands on my pants, Logan wraps his small arms around my legs and sticks his head through my legs before literally falling through. Getting up, he walks around to do it again. I can’t help but laugh at him, “Yeah, I’m going. I have some crawling to do. Yeah, later.”

Clicking the phone together, the little guy begins to spin in excitement. It’s actually rather sad that he knows that that sound means I’m done talking. That I can now focus on him. I often wonder if I spend too much time wrapped up in business, but even so, how can I get around it? Have cut back as far as I possibly can, but to be home and not the office means phone calls. It’s a shitty Catch 22.

May have to start another round of daycare discussion when Doc gets home. Discussion. Fight. It’s all the same, right?

I feel another tug and smile down at him, I ask, “Where’s your slide?” A simple question and he is off. I follow behind him as we move through the dining room, a hall way and finally make it into the outside playground that is inside. A slide, swing, seesaw- which is just ridiculous for a kid his age to have- basketball, cars to push and cars to ride on and so many other things that I’m still totally justified in thinking that this is over stimulation for him. But am I listened to? No, people just buy more.

I’m only his father afterall. Muttering aloud, “Logan, I think we are going to play a game tomorrow. Its called put 80 percent of your toys away and hide them from mommy so that we can live in a house, not a circus. Whatcha think?”

He looks at me and I swear his eyebrow raises when he doesn’t give two shits about what I am talking about. Instead, he goes back to his task at hand.

“Hold up there Mr. Man.” I move quickly over to the slide to help him up before he tumbles over the edge. Sitting him up there, I keep a hand on his back but let him push himself down. A short way to the ground but he tumbles to his back and quickly stands up to clap for himself. I clap also and wait for him to do his hand signal for more. It will come, it always does and moments later, his fingers bang together and I lift him back up and we slide again. And again. And again.

And a few more times after that before he decides to run. Run into the swing, pushing it all the way up and then stumbling backwards into the wall as it comes back down, just so he can do it again. Do I help him? No. Do I hold onto the swing so he doesn’t fall? No. How will he learn how everything works if I interfere?

But then the swing gets dull and goes for climbing underneath his little Playskool jungle gym. He knows four ways to get in and out of this contraption but there are a total of nine. Not sure if that is good or not. Should he know more? I’ve tried to show him more but he seems to care not. “Logan… Logan… try this one.” I put my hand through the hole and try to catch onto him to pull him over the opening. Show him how it works, but instead he just laughs and moves further back. Everything is a game. And why shouldn’t it be?

My life has always been a game. Not necessarily a fun one, but why shouldn’t he have some good experiences? I watch him and often wonder what my childhood was like. I wonder if I did this as a small boy, did I have the chance to run in circles until I fell on my butt and giggle?

But I’ve always felt, what’s the point in living a dull life?

Time just seems to stop as we move from toy to toy. Throw the ball, kick the ball, throw it again. Jump around a bit. Dance around a bit. Get on a car, fall off the car. Always moving. Always running. Never in one spot more than a second. Shaking my head, I laugh at his antics as I desperately try to stay up with him. He gets bored easily. As do I. Another thing that may be taught through observation. But I’ve never gotten bored of him or even bored with him. Nothing can be boring because nothing is the same twice. So how would he have learned this element or are all kids this way? Something to wonder about.

As he brings a ball over to me, I respond, “Thank you” and wait for him to repeat it back. It’s more copying my inflection with the words, rather than making any true connection with the letters but I know what it means when he says it. And he does say it, just before he bends over to plant an open mouth on my leg. A nice drool spot to go along with the others. Sometimes I worry about him. He’s a boy. Boys shouldn’t like to kiss people so much, but I say its teething. Will stop soon. Right?

I can’t help but laugh at this thought because in front of me in one of the most adorable mommy’s boys that I have ever met. Brady loved Marlena desperately and loved hanging out with her, but Belle was Marlena’s and Brady was mine. He was a daddy’s boy. This one though, all Marlena all the time. And he knows it. And with that, I can’t help but pull him to me, lay him across my lap and shake his belly before kissing his face. His giggling is out of control so I slow down in order to let him catch his breath before I dive back in to cause some more noise. I love that giggle. The same pattern and inflection as Doc’s. Is that copied and learned also? Born into you? Is there even an answer? It’s so weird at times to watch him, because he has Brady’s smile… well my smile I guess, but its Doc’s giggle that so clearly comes out of his mouth. First time experiencing this, because Belle is all her mother. Nothing me in that girl.

But I’ve always have wondered if adults see within their kids more than there is. Strangers are able to see similarities between you and whatever kid you may be holding and it not necessarily be your kid. Or the lovely few months of everybody deciding who the child looks more like, the mom or the dad. Pretty much from the beginning, it was equal. But Marlena’s dad swore he was looking at a baby Marlena all over again.

Why do we force kids to look and act like us? Perhaps they really do and that’s why because that giggle, that sound, is Marlena. Has the same tone and begins the same way. Slow and steady and then seems to just take over their bodies. It comes out fast and keeps rolling on, no matter how hard they try to stop it. Though Marlena always puts her hand up to her mouth to quiet herself.

He stands before me and as I stare back at him so intently, he moves forward. It’s a staring game. I am to move towards him to and meet in the middle, nose to nose. I keep a straight face but he giggles the moment he begins to move. Wide smile. Our noses barely have time to touch before his arms begin to move wildly. Flaring in all directions that I am forced on instinct to turn my head away. Mad man he is. Arms flaring, giggling and moving his feet side to side. Soon he will fall.

I laugh with him. I clap with him and he falls. He always does.

Weebles wobble and well, this one always falls down.

As he finds his feet again, he runs over to the slide, but trips over his trousers and does a rather painful looking face plant into his slide. I pause. Don’t make a big deal out of it, then they may not either. That’s the rule. This will be no different, right? Oh fuck… that whimper is saying different. As is that scream and those tears. “Hey hey now… you’re alright.” I get up and over to him quickly, pulling him close and cuddling him to my shoulder, “Hey now Mr. Man. No tears, you are alright.” Rubbing his back, “Just a big boom.” I hear a muffled ‘boom’ and I smile, “Yeah just a big boom. Where is your ball? Where did your ball go?”

He lifts his head and suddenly, all is right in the world because he has to find his ball. Amazing their recovery time. Just amazing. And off he goes to find and kick his ball. “That’s it! Kick kick.” He begins to kick the ball and chase after it into the other room. I begin to chase after him, but the familiar ringing of my cell causes me to quickly pick him up and jog over to it. “Ut oh… say hello.” As I flip up the phone, I greet the person on the line and smile brightly as Logan copies the tone of my voice to poorly attempt ‘hello’ for himself.

“Yeah… yeah I got them. Yes, got those also. No, I don’t agree with that so yeah, the second will work better.” Logan moves forcibly in my arms to get down, so I attempt to pay attention as I set him down and watch him sprint towards the steps, “Logan, sit” is my warning as I prepare to launch for him if he decides to attempt another head first job on those steps. But instead, he plops down hard, rolls to his stomach and slides down the three steps pretty easily. “Oh no no Dan. I’m here. Trying to avoid some crying was all. Okay, what were you saying?” I continue to reply as I watch the small boy run around the room, finally finding what he was looking for. Picking it up, he claps for himself and runs back to the steps. I notice it’s his blue cell phone that Brady and Chloe had given him a few months back. Walking over to my leg, he rolls his hand on his shoulder so that his knuckles touch his ear and the phone rests on the edge of his shoulder, before he lets out a somewhat sounding, “Eeelll ooo.” If even that.

So we have to work on the placement of the phone but that doesn’t matter much. “One sec.” I put my phone down and bend to pick him up. Tossing him into the air before kissing his cheek, “That’s it Mr. Man. Perfect. You are very much a twenty-first century baby.” Keeping him on my hip, I pick the phone back up and apology, “Sorry about that. Yeah I still have him, not sure when Marlena will return. Seriously. It’s never ending over there. Not sure what they are all doing, but I don’t think it’s very pleasant, whatever it is. Well, pretty sure it won’t be pleasant for we men. My wife is out to make sure that every female can kick some ass.” I laugh at his reply, “Hell yeah. Seriously though, I think its great.” I did it again. I get in trouble often for swearing around the baby. Marlena gets nervous that since Logan is in the learning to talk phase he’ll learn my, as she puts it, colourful phrases. Shit is a good one to know. As is hell. Comes in handy throughout life.

Looking down at him, I smile, “You know what, I’d prefer to have this conversation a bit later. I’ll get a hold of you while he’s napping or something. Yeah, thanks pal.”

Tossing the cell back with my stuff, I immediately swing him into a rocking position, swaying him side to side and then up and down. “One… two… three…” On three I toss him slightly and cradle catch him. I set him on his feet, arms on his shoulders as he tries unsuccessfully to stand. Looking down, I see chubby fingers banging together, “More? You want to do more?”

I pick him back up and immediately he begins to giggle, “I haven’t done anything yet!” But that soon changes as the counting begins again. “One… two… three… Oh no… no more.” And there is no need to worry for his focus is drawn to his tippy-cup. He launches himself towards it and I barely catch his upper body before he hits the table. “Okay okay… I got the message.” Moving over, I pick up the cup and rinse it off in the sink, dumping the now warm milk and washing it out quickly before moving over to the frig to get some more. Logan helps me open the door and I sigh as I look onto the shelf before staring back at him, “You were to remind me we need more milk. Oh no, don’t be smiling at me. This is all your fault.” Bouncing him to get more laughs, “Oh yes it is. That’s the second time this week. How am I to prove to your mom that we men can survive if you don‘t do your part?”

My response? More raspberries in my face. Sighing, “Okay so juice it is and a trip to the store.”

Taking out the White Grape Juice jug and a bottle of water, I pour a bit of water and then juice into his cup, before moving over to the washer to take out another top and putting it into place. Shaking it behind my back, in hopes that he won’t get any ideas. I hand the cup to him as I move over to the hall closet to locate a pair of his shoes. Squatting down with him, I attempt not to fall over as I find his white sneakers with a black stripe on the sides on them, before heading back to the kitchen chair and sitting down. Socks on and then shoes. “A hat… you need a hat.” A quick trip upstairs and back down again with him, I place the hat on his head and wait to see if he will keep it on. It’s a rather normal drill for him. It’s sad but he seems to understand why exactly it is needed. Standing him up on the table, “Clean white shirt. Black cords. Sneakers with black stripe. White hat with black design. You match. Your mom is still mad about that picture that made it into the paper when you were all mismatched. Yeah, I know! You should tell her to chill out, because she won’t listen to me.” Hearing him sigh, “I know it’s a sad world she lives in. I know, isn’t it? And if they had printed it in black and white, we would have been fine! Silly paper.” Looking down at my own clothes, “Think it’s lame if you and I match?” He shakes his head no and I have to laugh, “Good time to do that. No it is, whether you realize it or not. Come on.”

Holding out my arms, I pick him up again. Grab my cell and keys before checking to make sure I have my wallet. We move to the door, out of it and through the garage to the car. Placing him into his seat, I snap together the straps and pull tightly to make sure they are in place. Handing him a couple of his toys, I toss a few others up into the front seat for when he decides that throwing them is entertaining.

Shutting his door, I look at him through the window. Sticking out my tongue, he giggles at me and returns the gesture. My Bentley. A pride and joy. Did I ever dream of it with a car seat in back, stroller in the trunk and toys and Crazy O’s laying throughout it?

Letting out a harsh laugh, I slide into my seat. “Here we go.” I start the car and laugh at his sound effects. “Yes, that’s what the car says.”


It’s a rather short trip down a couple of roads to the store. Walking up to a cart, I move to sit him in it but as his feet rise to his stomach, I decide that he chooses to be held instead. “Fine. Fine, I should make you sit but I won’t. We’ll be quick.” I pick up a basket instead and head towards the dairy section. Looking over all of the different milks in front of me. “We need red. Red… red… where is the red?” Up go his arms, telling me that he hasn’t a clue where all the red ones have gone. “Well shi- -“ I stop the rant there as I continue to look for a red one but there is nothing remotely red.

“Sir, do you need help?”

“Well,” Rubbing the back of my neck and feeling like a damn fool, “We need more of his milk but I don’t know what kind he drinks. The container was red and I’m seeing that red does not exist in this store.”

“Whole milk.”

“Whole milk.” Looking at Logan like he would be able to agree or disagree with such a statement, “How come you are so sure?”

The lady smiles at me. I feel like I’m a two year old at the moment, but I’m a little too grateful that she hasn’t uttered the ‘Oh my… you’re John Black’ shit, so I am trying not to be offended. “Whole milk tends to be red. But unless he is allergic to milk…”

“Umm… no not allergic.”

“Then young children drink whole milk.”

She’s too confident to doubt. And she has jello snack cups and lunchable things in her cart so she has at least one child to know this stuff. Females know these things. That’s why men don’t. “Whole milk it is then.”

My eyes begin to roam the shelf, but the lady must see my confused look because she simply whispers, “The green one” before walking away from me. “Thank you” but I don’t think she heard me. Score one for me. “So green it is big guy.” Placing one in the basket, we move down a few more aisles. I need baby things. I read the signs hanging over the rows. I shouldn’t have come here. I know the other store better.

Have I become unintelligent to the fathering ways over the years, or was I always this pathetic? Because I really should have known the whole milk thing. Did Doc really do that much? Well, I guess so. She raised him too. He lived with her.
But there was a time when he was living with me in the loft… on a bottle. Well fuck, I am down right pathetic.

“Why are we here Mr. Man? I’m lost. How about you?” I bounce him lightly to get a giggle out of him, but he’s rather content to simply reach out and attempt to drag everything as we walk by. Balancing the now weighted basket and him lunging at things is not the easiest task. Perhaps should have made him sit somehow.

Well hell.

The ringing of my cell causes even a small curse to quietly slip through my lips. I put down the basket, shift Logan, hanging him the keys to keep him entertained as I pull out my cell from my back pocket. Fumbling to flip it open,

“Hello.”

I hear the voice on the other end and have to smile, “Hello sweatheart. How are things? When are you coming home?”

“Not too bad. I should be home fairly soon.”

“That wasn’t a day or two… not making me feel confident.”

“Because sweetie, if I say that and arrive in three days you will sulk and complain about it for months. So, fairly soon.”

Sighing, I watch Logan grab onto one of the keys and shake them before grabbing hold of another and repeating the process, “That will have to do. I talked to Jase. I think he is going to side with us.”

“Good to hear. That’s real good. One less thing. So how are my guys?”

“We aren’t too bad. Just doing a little shopping.” I lean down to grab the basket with the same hand I am holding Logan in, as I begin to walk again. No use standing there for everybody to stare at me. “Did you know that whole milk doesn’t always come in a red carton?”

“Yes, I was aware of that. Did you know that?”

“Definitely not. Logical people would think that one colour per type of milk. That’s simple and direct and easy. Should be that way, ya know.”

I hear her laugh and I know she has a pretty good image of the conversation I just had in her mind, “So how did you find out its whole milk?”

“A rather charming and attractive lady told me. She also told me how brilliant and charming I am and offered to run away with me.”

“I hope you accepted. Not many of those requests are coming your way these days. Take what you can get.”

I have no choice but to laugh. “You’ll pay for that. Not like there are any hopelessly in love teenage boys throwing themselves upon our lawn anymore either. Think that means you are getting old.”

“That’s just fine. I have all the boys I need, thanks.” I can see her smile. I’m walking slowly through the aisles, but I take a moment to close my eyes and see that smile that I am missing so much, “I miss you. I miss your smile and your giggle and a lot of things I can’t talk about right now. Miss those most of all.”

A throaty giggle leaves her lips and flows over the line, “Hang in there. Besides we can’t do that anymore, you said one monster was enough. Better safe than sorry.”

“I’d rather chase after twenty monsters than surrender that.” I sigh, “But I do miss you and I know Logan does. As does Belle and Claire and Brady and Sami and Will… you know the routine. And I know” I take in a deep breath and look at our boy, “that you miss us too so it isn’t fair me whining. But thought it might speed things up over there. Did England really need to be empowered as well? Couldn’t they be weak, meek little girls still?”

“John!”

I nod and realize that she can’t see it, “I know. Sorry.”

“It is. It will. And you can do all those things in that dirty mind of yours soon. I promise. Kiss my baby for me.”

“Will do.” I shake the little guy to get his attention, “Say hi to mommy Logan. Say hi.”

His mouth finally opens and lets out a clear, “Hhhiii mu mu mu.”

“That a boy!” Putting the phone back to my ear, “See, he misses you and loves you.”

“He strung it together.”

“Yeah, we’ve been working on that. Can do it for momma but not dada.”

“Knew he loved me more.”

Laughing, “Watch it woman. I now have to hang up on you because we have shopping to do. There were cameras outside. Seems you are making it big.”

“Me? What about you, you are redefining fashion with that building of yours.”

“Think it’s more you and the little guy than me. But I’m learning its less pictures if they take them out there, than if they show up in here.”

Marlena sighs. It’s a new part of our life. Ever since she started taking her Empowerment group national and not international, she’s huge. The new Oprah, with a talk show deal in the works. Something we haven’t finished discussing yet. It may be new, but she hates it when it interferes in moments like these. “I’ll call later then. Make sure you answer this time! And…” There is another sigh.”

“What?”

“I’ve just been thinking. Logan has a hat on, right?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t see a point in trying to hide him. Might as well let it be done. I don’t think my beautiful boy minds it so don’t go crazy trying to hide him and carry everything. Won’t be bad, right? Once I get home all this craziness and frenzy should die down.”

I arrive at the baby section. “Diapers… these I can do. Right here.” I focus again, “Sorry, we’ll talk about it more when you get home.” It’s an iffy conversation and now I think we’ve flipped sides. When he was a baby, I saw no big deal with him being in pictures, but Marlena did. Boy, Marlena did. And now she is saying I can smile happily at the cameras and all I want to do is cover him up with my shirt. I pause as I put the basket back on the ground and place some diapers into it, “I’ll talk to you tonight sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you both. Don’t forget to pick up the dry-cleaning today.”

“Yes sweetheart. Bye.” She copies me and I close up the phone to place it back into my pocket. Looking down at Logan, “We have got the perfect woman. Never forget that. And now we need some cookies.” I walk down the Gerber portion and look for the rather messy and very disgusting cookies that he seems to adore so much. Careful not to let him see them, I place the box into the basket and move towards the check out.

I can feel the eyes on me. I know he can to because he isn’t looking around much. This really isn’t fair to him but it’s not like you can lock him inside until he is fifty. It is a newfound stardom. Doc and I had always been elite members of society around here, occasionally pointed out and all, but nothing like this. As my company grows and she sweeps the nation as the President of women, it gets worse.

The pointing and the whispering and the slowing down of the charts. It’s all becoming normal and I only notice it when I want to, but right now I am just keeping my eye open for cameras and oddly raised cell phones. Putting out my three items, I turn around and pull a thumb out of Logan’s mouth, “No thumb Mr. Man.” Leaning down, I kiss his cheek to help calm him as I pull his hat down further on his head. Its habit now. They can have pictures. I won’t hide him behind the groceries but not really in the mood and this really isn’t the place for me and him to have a photo op.

An elderly lady pulls her cart in behind me and I lean over to put up a barrier for her. She is short and moving rather slow and now is the moment where do you offer to help and risk insulting her? Or do you ignore and set yourself up for being classified as rude? I look at Logan and decide helping is better than not. So switching arms with him, I pull out my keys, “Here you go.” I dangle them for a moment before he happily grabs them and I turn to the lady, “May I lend a hand?”

“Oh… if you could get those cans out for me… I would be very grateful.”

I smile a classic grin her way and lean over to grab one can after the next. I toss a laugh at Logan now and then as he happily claps and enjoys the up and down motion that I am creating, “You think that’s funny, do you?” I tip him again slowly before leaning down to grab the last can. Looking at her, “There you be.”

“Thank you very much. You have a very beautiful little boy there.” She is fumbling in her purse but still talking, “Always nice to see happy and healthy children these days. They are the future.”

Pride. Total pride can been seen on my face. “That they are ma’am. My-“ I pause, what do I call her? Well, for ease of conversation, “My mom always tells me that too and she is defini- -”

I hear a throat cleared and as I turn to look at the cashier, I’m knocked in the temple by a set of keys. Quickly raising a hand up, I rub the injured spot, “Ouch… careful there Mr. Man.” Juggling him and keeping an eye on his hand, I fumble with my wallet and finally find a twenty to hand to the young girl. I have to admit it, it never gets old to see that look of shock in somebody’s eyes when they see you and realize that you’ve been on TV a lot lately. Replacing the wallet and swinging Logan back into my right arm, I turn back to the lady, “Was saying that you and my mom are definitely right. These guys are the future.”

She simply nods before looking back up to smile and the two of us, “Well, I think you have a very nice addition to our future son.” It’s a weird statement. I understand it but its weird and I scrunch up my nose lightly in recognition of its odd nature. But she just laughs, “He has your nose.” And that’s all she says. I smile but she doesn’t see. Her eyes are back into her purse and my change is in my hand and Logan is slapping away at my chest with the keys. Life is strange sometimes. Very strange.

Picking up the bag, “Thank you.” Looking down at him, “Can you tell her thank you?” And so he does. Sort of. The best he can and I just laugh lightly, “Wave bye bye.” As we walk away, his hidden hand opens and closes to wave and his mouth lets out a shy “Biiii” I love that. The ‘b’ can hardly be heard. It’s more the sound of his lips coming apart for the long ‘i’ sound but it’s just adorable.

I kiss the side of his head as we step through the sliding doors. Just as I figured, cameras. I don’t pause. I’m so use to this. He is too. It happens a lot lately. We even had a day that they camped outside the house. Slowly we are all turning into movie stars as they follow us to the store, to dinners, to work. It’s just common and life. Just everyday life to the point that I hardly notice it anymore but when it involves Logan, it’s different. Each day he grows and each day is new to him and I don’t think it’s really fair to make this part of his life without his knowledge. Forcing him to understand and except this part of the society world purely because he was born to Dr. Marlena Evans and John Black. He should get a say in it.

Doc just doesn’t understand. She hasn’t really been around much these last two months to truly get a feel for this. She has yet to see the changes in our lives and if I am perfectly honest, I think that is starting to bother me.

I step out, wave awkwardly to a random place. Sort of a wave. Its more fingers moving to wave under Logan’s butt, because the others are currently occupied. I smile as Logan waves shyly to the crowd, before burying his head into my shoulder.

So perhaps it won’t screw him up so badly. Makes for nicer pictures and easier PR in the long run. Might do Doc some good if she truly wants to go somewhere with this new career – go towards being the next Oprah. I sigh as I smile one last time and place the bag on the ground. I get Logan quickly into the safety of the car and buckle him up. I can’t help but smile at the idea that currently cameras are snapping pictures of my ass. Glad it’s a nice ass. Should sell a lot of papers.

Also is a reminder that maybe I need to hit the gym. “Want to go lift some weights with daddy? Join that Daddy and Me group at the Y?”

Yeah, he so doesn’t give a rat’s ass what we do.

He is in. I toss the bag on the floor next to him and then duck into the car. I wave out the window at them as I carefully pull out of my spot and peel out of the parking lot. Dry cleaners and then home. My life is so luxurious.
Page 3 of 8Closing the door to the SUV, I move around to the other side and open up Logan’s door. Reaching in I pull down on his neck clip and begin to unclip it, “One button. Where is the red button?” I wait to see his eyes move down to his lap, spotting the large red release button and pointing happily at it, “That’s right. Push it.” Helping him out, I remove the straps from his shoulders and carefully remove him from the seat, dragging the small duffel bag from the floor and placing it on the ground.

Nice and simple usage of my backside to close his door, I adjust him on my hip, “You know bud, I really hate this car. If my Bentley doesn’t get fixed soon, like by tomorrow, you and I are going car shopping because this isn’t doing anything for me. Now look at this.” I point to the car and smile as his tiny hand moves forward to slap against the warm metal, “Yeah, this is your mom’s car, as is that other sorry excuse for a car in the garage. Not a man’s car at all and we need a man one, don’t we?” I lean over to pick up his bag and begin to move along the drive way, “You know what? I think we will go car shopping because if she can have two here, so can we.”

“Dooo” I think there is a ‘n’ sound in there somewhere. But no need to doubt that because his small fingers bang together and point to the ground, “What do you say?” He doesn’t look up, just continues to lunge forward, “Peeeas”

“I thought so. Where’s Logan’s car?” Why do I bother asking him? He’s running right for the damn thing anyways. He loves that thing, but now is a complete terror- now that he knows how to push himself. Was easier when the simple act of getting on it, pushing a button, getting off it, hitting it and getting back on it was the game. Boring. But easier. Now he disappears so quickly. Takes mere seconds of a turned back to have him half way down the driveway and heading towards the gate. This would be the time to have a dog. One just big enough to follow him, bark at me when needed. Perhaps even train him to push Logan back up.

Yeah, that would be nice.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I move and squat down next to him, I put out a hand to help steady him as he lifts his leg up and over the red car, “You really need to get over your allergies Mr. Man. Would be nice to have a puppy to play with… wouldn’t it?” I smile as he begins a tirade of “pup pup pup” as he pushes down on the colourful buttons before him. “What does the puppy say?” His growl into a dreadful sounding bark is something else. Rather embarrassing because he sounds more like he is hiccupping. No flare at all. No spark. And anytime he makes the sound I have to explain to people what animal it is- that’s not progress. And the sound of a cat is no better. Same sound that he makes with food, just a long ‘m’. I stick with dinosaur when impressing people. He has a nice growl for those. Also, how many other babies know dinosaur? Every toddler can ‘moo’ and ‘baa,’ so Logan is special. As he should be.

I often wonder if he is behind. Is he developing slowly? Belle developed slower than Brady, but Doc concluded that it was because she was a second child and she had Brady to do all the talking for her. And well, talk for her he did. He still does. But Logan doesn’t have anybody talking for him. Am I doing something wrong? Perhaps it is the constant restructuring of his life, Marlena gone more than here, me working and not having just one person watching him.

Do we need a nanny again? I always insisted on one for Brady and Belle, so that we didn’t have to worry about who would watch them. No last minute issues. And it was consistent.

His jiggling around catches my attention, “Baby dancing? I’m sorry Mr. Man, but you look like a geek doing that. You got zero bits of your mom’s talent. That’s all Black blood.”

I stand back up to stretch out my legs and let him drive around the garage. I should remove his car seat because if Marlena sees it, all I’ll receive is a twenty-minute lecture as to why the middle seat is safer than the corner. Yet, I can see him in the corner. I like seeing him.

Ah! Shit.

My eyes move down and I see Logan and his car right on my foot. That should bruise. “Logan, that is not a bumper car.” But does he care? Not a damn bit. I bend down, “Remember, daddy said that you cannot hit people or walls with your car. That hurts people and I don’t want to take the car away again. Okay?”

He nods and lets out a soft, “Kay.” I do love that because the nod is quick, just long enough for the sound to leave his lips. He knows he is in trouble. But I don’t think that will keep him from hitting me again in the future.

Keeping an ear on him, I move back to the SUV and open up the trunk to remove the play-set that we bought. Of course its been raining nonstop for a week now, which means there is no way in hell that I am even going to attempt to put this thing out in the yard. It’s a damn swamp out there. No drainage at all. I wanted to just put grass overtop it all but was informed that was stupid and my idea to just make it all sand didn’t fly far with Marlena. Sand is at least walkable and playable when wet. We do it at the beach. But wet grass? Who wants that shit? But it has to dry at some point. The weather report states that the rest of the week should be dry, but the weather reports are stupid as well. Never seem to be right. Hell, told me it was going to be a sunny day today when I listened at six and well, fifty minutes later it was raining. So instead I wait.

I set the oversized box down on its side and turn back to locate Logan. “Logan…”

Jump. Splash. Step.

Oh and now the hand slap of the puddle. Sanitary. “You are so lucky your mom isn’t here and you have no idea how much trouble we are already in, so get out of there!”

Not that calling will help. He loves the puddles. He loves water. That fact alone makes me wish our pool wasn’t connected to the back porch the way it is, but there is now a fence around it. Kind of helps. ‘Til he learns how to climb.

Ugh. Yeah, now that was ridiculous. There was nothing suitable for her. Nothing that matched enough with her colours and decoration theme. How many people in this world personally draw and design their own fence for their pool?

Rubbing the back of my neck, I move towards him. “Come on Logan. No more puddles. Logan…” I am beginning the tone, but I am just not in the mood to fight this. Seems it’s always up to me. I need Marlena to return and give me a hand with some of this. So instead, I just move closer to him and attempt to reason, “Okay, we’ve had enough boy.” Taking him by the hand, I attempt to lead him away, “Time to go inside.”

Yeah. That didn’t work and if I pull anymore he will just go limp and end up lying on the ground with me holding onto his hand. It’s a nice new tactic of his. Grabbing his middle, I pull him up and run a hand over his pants to assess the damage before turning him over onto my hip. “You just like seeing daddy in trouble, dontcha? Wicked little boy.” We move towards his bag, “Right when the photographer shows up… right then. First of all, it isn’t polite to spill your food when you are at lunch with guests. Makes you look ridiculous. Seriously. But then the cameraman is there and you have food in your hair and on your face and your mom is going to come after me. You know that right? Oh don’t give me that cheeky grin.” Squeezing his cheeks, “I’m bringing you down with me.”

I kiss the side of his head before setting him back down. My left hand grabs hold of the black duffel as my right leads the small boy away from the puddles and towards the steps. I should keep him out a bit longer. He’s been cooped up and run all over town this last week, but it’s just too damn wet to give it a go. Only way to keep him in the garage is to close the door and that’s no better than being inside so it’s not happening.

“Up.” He repeats me as he uses hands and knees to climb up the couple steps. He reaches up for the handle. He’s on his tiptoes and shit, he just barely can’t get a grip on it. Too close and too smart.

I worry about when he can open doors. One day I’ll turn around and he’ll be out the door and down to the gate. Not a very pleasant thought there so as I step into the house, I close and flip the lock.

“Come on Mr. Man. Let’s put this away.” As I look down at him, he runs over to the kitchen and places his right hand to his lips, “Food?” He repeats his action and I nod, “Okay then. Let’s get a snack.”

I place his bag onto a side table that isn’t meant to have things placed upon it. I see no reason to have an empty table sitting out, that’s conveniently located between the kitchen and side door that I can’t use to place stuff on. It’s pointless. I lack somewhere to put my stuff and the table lacks usefulness. Who the hell cares to stand and look at a table? Actually, they did that. She bought it, everybody came over… Lexi, Abe, Hope, Sami, Carrie… everybody and did the pathetic fake interest and impressed sounds and now its over. Therefore, nobody looks at it anymore and it’s convenient so, the bag can stay there.

Moving to the refrigerator, I open it with Logan’s help and grab his unfinished juice from earlier. I use my leg to block him from reaching any of the contents within and look down, “Close?” I watch as he closes the door for me and I head over to grab a bowl and pour some Crazy O’s into the bowl. “Healthy crap again. I should have gotten you some sugar. I know. Sorry about that bud. Actually,” Bending over, I scoop him up and hand him his juice, “You hold it. Thank you. We’ll look for something better in a moment, you’re wet. Come on.”

I begin to move down the hall and hear the echoing of my footsteps, “Shit… oh… I mean crap… darn…oh no.” Pointing at Logan, “You didn’t hear daddy, right?” A rough but affectionate pat on my face is my answer. “I still have my shoes on and that’s a no no.”

His cup is removed from his mouth just far enough, “No no no… no no… shoooo.” Toeing out of my shoes as skillfully as I can, I give up and reach down to pull one off then the other before tossing them to the side and continue towards the steps. Passing the completely dreadful wallpaper as quick as I can, we move up the stairs as Logan plays with my ear and shakes his cup to make sure there is more liquid inside for him.

“We have the laundry all done so we need a Plan B for your pants.” Moving towards my bathroom, I search the closet and find Marlena’s hair dryer. Plugging it in, I remove his drink from his grip and hand him a brush to occupy himself as he sits on the counter. Spinning him, he giggles at himself and brushes at his hair as I slide my fingers into his pant leg and begin to dry the wetness. “See, this is a good Plan B. Brushing your hair?” I shake my head as he continues to stroke his hair with the wrong side of the brush. Brilliant, yet so stupid.

I set the dryer down and grab hold of his hands to flip the brush around and help him brush through his hair properly, “See… this way.” Helping him, he strokes through his messy curls, as I watch in the mirror. I let go and allow him to continue his task. Dark curls. Man, those curls have come out of nowhere. So funny. I often find myself just staring at him. He’s just so very different than his siblings. Even Brady. Dark brown curls and the deep hazel eyes, pale skin and rosy cheeks. I do hate to say it, but I have a pretty boy. Brady was my ruggedly handsome guy, but Logan… Logan is just a damn beautiful boy. Total pretty boy.

He’s going to be more trouble than Belle ever was.

Shaking my head, I can’t help the slight laugh that leaves my lips. He sees my face in the mirror and smiles back. “Absolutely horrendous there bud. Going in all directions, no control and I do believe you still have carrots in your hair.” But as always, he doesn’t care and immediately after I go back to the drying task, he realizes that brush against the marble counter makes a rather delightfully loud sound. Grabbing it, “Oh no no… here.” A brush for a comb. Less noise. Its plastic. Less damage.

Placing my fingers over the warm material, “I think you are dry enough. Food time?” I watch in the mirror as his fingers touch his lips and I scoop him up and place him back down to pick up the stuff. Wrapping the cord back up, I hear splashing and turn around to see him on his tiptoes, right hand happily in the toilet, playing with the water, “Oh Jesus Chr- -“ I swallow and let out a “Logan… that’s awful.”

He is unpleased by being interrupted, but his tantrum stops as I turn on the facet and wait for warm water to pour out. Taking his hands, I wash off the rain puddle and toilet bowl water and lecture him on how his father would rather he not play in toilets. “Boys…” is muttered as I slip a hand under him and allow my arm to keep him secure against me, as I toss the hair dryer carelessly back into the closet and head out, through my bedroom and back down the steps.
Stopping at the bottom, I sigh, “Your juice.” I glance back up the stairs and shake my head, “Ah well, a new one it is.”

Holding onto him, dodging as many slaps in the face and chest as possible, I move towards the pantry and begins to glance over the boxes. We need something with sugar. Something that is unhealthy because too much health cannot do a person good. Really can’t. Too much of anything is always negative. Sure, it may be wrong but my kid needs something with sugar that lacks twelve different vitamins and minerals. Sometimes I feel he is a science project that includes the Periodic Table. Insanity.

“Graham crackers.” Bouncing Logan a bit, “Well, Mr. Man. I think that is about all that I can help you with.” As we begin to move out of the small room, I spot a nicely hidden package of Oreos, “Ooo… there it is. Now we’re in business. Time to have some fun.” Box of crackers under my arm, I reach for the cookies and quickly make my way out. I pull out his bowl of Crazy O’s and then begin with the Graham Crackers. I place him back down and ignore his grunts and physical pleas to be picked back up, as I quickly make work of the crackers, breaking one into small pieces and finally making a complete disaster with the cookies.

Licking my fingers, “Well that’s naughty so don’t tell.” One quick once over with a paper towel is good enough for me.

I grab his leftover milk and swirl the dish of snacks around as I walk across the room and down into the family room. I watch him follow as quickly as he possibly can and as he slides down the steps smoothly enough, I sit down on the floor. Placing the bowl and drink down, I wait on him, “Sit. Good boy. Here.” One piece of cereal to start it all off.

After that is quickly shoved into his mouth, I hold up a piece of Oreo and place it into his mouth, conveniently placing my hand underneath in case he has been too brainwashed by his mother. A cheeky grin and smacking of the lips… we have a winner.

“Good huh?” I hand him another one, followed by a piece of graham cracker, “Uh uh… sit. Thank you.” He reaches for his bowl but I pull it away, “Chew. What do you say?”

“Peeeeas.”

I nod and hand him another Oreo chunk. “Yeah that is the good stuff.” I pop a piece into my mouth and on cue, he leans forward to place in my mouth a rather soggy Crazy O. The joys of one year olds. Sharing is important, right? Just as a large handful is about to be put into his mouth, I reach out, “No no… one at a time. You’ll choke and I’ll get in trouble. Here.” Lying down, I place a couple in front of him. So I’ll have to vacuum after I clean up the kitchen.

Moving slightly, I reach up to grab the remote and flick on the television, waiting for it to tell me the time. “Oh…” Pointing at Logan, “You didn’t remind me. You are quite forgetful this week, you know that? A terrible trait. Just like your mom. Need to fix that.” I change it to channel four before tossing it onto the couch, hoping it lands out of his reach. “Hey hey…” I sit quickly to remove the bowl out of his way and take hold of the half dozen pieces he is trying to shove into his mouth, “I said one at a time. You are not allowed to choke until mommy gets home. I don’t do that. So chew… swallow. Thank you. You are not a chipmunk.” Looking down on him, “Though you do have the cheeks for it I guess.”

His attention is caught by a voice, “Yeah… you finally heard her, huh? Where is mommy? Where is she?” His arms move to show off his ‘I don’t know’ and ‘all gone’ sign but then is quickly replaced by a pointing finger at the television. “Yeah, good boy. Blow her kisses. Blow mommy kisses.”

Fist goes into his mouth and then is released towards the screen with a popping sound. “Oh wow, she gets two… three… four? Now she is lucky. Do I get a kiss at least?” Leaning forward, he moves to meet me half way but his kiss lands in the air as he jerks back too quickly to continue to point at Marlena. “Fine. Fine. Treat me like dog meat, just remember who is taking care of you.”

Another Crazy O into the mouth and a rant of “Mu mu mu mu…” is heard in the room.

She’s being asked about her empowerment tour. This must have been filmed yesterday. Does she see Logan at all? Has he come on the road with her at all? No, you fool, she’s just up and ditched her year old son for seven months and will be back in time to see him off to playgroup. What the hell kind of question is that? “Now Logan,” I chew on a cracker, “That is a bad question. Tell her, booo…”

“Mooo…”

“No no… Boo!”

“Booooom…”

“Okay, close enough.”

I stand quickly to turn up the television before falling back down into my spot. Logan jumps excitedly at hearing her voice, “Of course. I see him as often as possible. He’s been on the road with me some of the time. And we have plans on bringing him back out. It’s hard, having him travel. He’s just so little still and takes a lot out of him, of me, of all of us to have him along on the journey. But I get home as often as possible. Being gone as much as I have these last few weeks is killing me, so there won’t be any long pauses without my guys.”

I shake my head, “You opened yourself up Marlena. Opened yourself up wide.” Looking back to Logan, “Now, a smart reporter would now start questioning her about me and your mom. Figure out if I’ve been scre- -” I lean forward to eat another used cracker, “Thank you. As I was saying, she should be asking how much I’ve screwed up with you two. But I haven’t. Minus the not matching moments. Which isn’t my fault. Or she should be asking about our recent past. About the freak doctor or… well, shall we count the number of messy things she could ask about? Can you count?”

“Tooo.”

“Two? That’s it? Any more?”

“Six!”

“Six? Well six is closer to the number of issues we have. Anymore?”

“No.”

Laughing, “Okay then. Just six. I wish that was true.”

I watch Logan begin to stand, “Are you listening to me here, Mr. Man? I’m telling you important life things. If you are going to survive, you need to know this. I’m bad at dressing you and keeping you clean for pictures but it’s not like I am the only one. If we end up in People magazine someday because of your mom, you’ll look cuter than all those celebrity babies. Even if you don’t match. You may have on the wrong shirt but you are a Black and charming as hell so nobody beats you. We always photograph well.” Grabbing him, I lay him across my legs and begin to tickle him as the commercials continue, “Yeah you and me… we’re magazine material.” Blowing on his cheek, “Because who can resist you?

We should have a reality show. What do you say? Mind having a camera in your face all the time? Perhaps you could throw your food at the cameraman instead of me.” Staring at him, we shake our heads at the same moment, “Nah… you’re right. Nobody needs that.”

I stare. I smile and he knows what is going to happen. He is already laughing. “Come here. Come here.” He shakes his head and steps back. “Get over here boy.” I laugh and lunge for him, “I’m gunna get you.”

A shriek echoes in the room and he is off. I chase after him, finally catching him and tackling him to the ground, careful not to have him land on stray toys. We begin to wrestle as the snacks are pretty much forgotten, until I hear Marlena’s voice again, “Hey look… where’s mommy?”

He points and does his, rather new, crazy feet dance- as Marlena puts it. Not sure why everything is crazy. Crazy dance. Crazy O’s. Crazy feet. It’s rather boring. Not very original at all. I need original. Logan is not allowed to be a boring ugly baby like the rest. He’s definitely special. I need that at my age. I can’t have things boring and dull and old. He keeps me young.

My attention is grabbed by the interviewer, “Oooo… nice question. She gets a point for that, but loses two for the bad outfit. Are your mother and I married or engaged? No. Not really. Do we have plans to be… do we Marlena?” I can see her considering the question. Which way to answer? Which way would be the easier and simpler answer? Who should she try to calm and please… the people or me? How much does she really want to try and explain? “She’s definitely thinking about this one.”

“Jump.” He bends his knees and with my help, is lifted into the air and brought back down to do it all again as Marlena finally speaks, “No, we’re not married and not engaged.”

And now its time to elaborate. “Yeah, come on Marlena. Tell them the whole story.”

I watch her face, this really isn’t fair. The more popular she gets and the more I get my ass out there in the world, the more they wonder. The more curious they get. But so far, nobody has ever truly asked. I think they are afraid.

Logan keeps jumping and the lady keeps on coming. I’m mocking her, but her voice is just so annoying. Who is she anyways? “But you were married previously?”

“No, not at all.” I mutter rather bitterly and Logan looks up at me. I smile to calm him and point towards Marlena as she begins to answer.

“Actually… well it’s very complicated. We have been married before. They just turned out not to be legal.”

My eyebrow arches in surprise at how quickly and easily she has responded. She has my attention, because the interviewer wants more information. Will we do another wedding or not? Don’t we want it official? “It’s official already. We live together, share all responsibilities and have a new child, so its marriage. We are doing now what we have done for over twenty years. Nothing has changed except a piece of paper and well… Do I need the piece of paper to tell me? We had one and it was taken away, that’s it. Nothing else changed and I refuse to believe that suddenly not being legally married changes anything about our life together. So, for right now, I’m just not trusting all that again. Not yet.” She sighs. She knows what she has just said and how this might come back to bite her in the ass. But lucky for her, most people won’t understand what she just said anyways.

I whisper to Logan, but keep my eyes on the screen, “Your mom is incredible. And I just learned something I didn’t know, so perhaps we should back off the wedding thing a bit, whatcha think?”

The next question doesn’t interest me so I clap Logan’s hands together, I stand up and move over for the remote, “Say goodbye to mom. Say goodbye.” A nice “buh buh buh” is heard and I turn it off. That was exciting enough. Nothing else could come out of whatever shitass questions that lady has left.

We sit back down as I begin to play with a ball, leaving the bowl of snacks in plain sight. A couple pitiful attempts to catch later, something grabs his curiosity as he stands and moves over to me. Pulling back my shirt a bit, he points at my belly button before pulling at his pants in an attempt to find his own. Again he leans over and pats my stomach before attempting to give mine a raspberry like I have his so many times. More slobber but I can’t help but laugh at the slight tickling it causes. I’m about ready to pounce on him and return the favour as I hear a voice, “Awww… now that is precious.”

Smiling up at the voice, “Hey now, nothing I do is precious.”

“No?” Smiling brightly at me, Marlena drops her purse, “My mistake.”

“Hey… Mr. Man. Look who’s here!”

He moves his head off of my chest slowly as he hears Marlena’s “Where’s my beautiful boy? Come here!” And that he does. He moves four steps before stopping and turning in a circle. He nearly falls over trying to pick up his cup and then he is ready. A cheeky smile, cup in hand and a full out run to the steps. However, ditching the cup becomes a smart idea for it was only slowing him down as he makes his way across the floor, chanting her name the entire way. I cringe and let out a “Watch him… slippery up there.”

Mother and son embrace as Doc lifts him up into the air and kisses him repeatedly on his cheeks. His small hands cup her face, as he leans over to plant a nice juicy kiss on her. I laugh as she wipes off her nose lightly, “I missed you too. Mmmm…” She continues to hug him and I can’t help to step in to rescue him.

“Let the boy breath.”

Kissing him again, “No, I missed him.”

“Well, just because you ditched him doesn’t mean you can smother him. Give me back my son.”

“No!” She turns her back to me and I can’t help but laugh.

“Want to hear what we learned this morning?” She looks at me strangely but I move closer to Logan, “One.”

There go those lips. Puckering together and they let loose a hard, “Tooo.”

“Three.”

“Oour.”

“Five.”

“Six!”

Funny how that one comes out so well. “That a boy!”

Marlena smiles widely in excitement. Her large eyes meet mine as she claps for her baby boy, “Yay! Very good. I want to hear it again. Five?” Logan entertains the adults by saying it quickly this time and clapping for himself. “How long did that take?”

“Oh… half of some show on Disney. We even learned a new dinosaur noise. No wussy sheep noises for my boy.”

Her eyebrows rise in amusement, “Wow, suddenly he is very much your son.”

“Until he poops another diaper. Stinky.” I have to smile because as soon as the word left my lips, Logan’s fingers pinch his nose and immediately move to Marlena’s, “Yeah, you tell her. Stinky.”

Bouncing Logan in her arms in front of her, she lets him play with her cheeks and mouth as she watches him. Opening her lips to allow a tiny finger into her mouth, she playfully sucks on it until he giggles and pulls it back, “You’ve learn so much and grown so big.”

“Mu mu mu…” His rant begins as rather gentle slaps are applied to her cheeks and nose. She grabs one of the assaulting hands and kisses it, “No, ma ma ma.”

“Mu mu mu…”

Glaring at me, “You are no longer able to speak to our son.”

“What did I do?”

“I don’t particularly know, but the more time he spends with you, the more British he sounds. What is up with this mum stuff?”

“I didn’t do it! Its Belle and Claire that watch the BBC. What’s wrong with being a little British?”

“Cause I’m not British and I’ve waited a long time to hear ma ma ma again and instead, I’m getting an accent tossed at me.”

I step towards her and lean in to capture her lips. Ignoring Logan’s slaps to my ear, I kiss her again, “He’ll be unique this way. And you know you think it’s adorable.” She sighs deeply and I kiss her one last time, “I missed you.”

“I missed you both. Hate being away, what did the doctor say?”

Moving towards the couch, we sit down and my arm immediately moves around her back, “He’s smack in the middle of the chart. Perfect place. Not too skinny and not too fat. Well, on the growth chart he is moving up. He’s now an inch taller than last time. He’s healthy. Papers are on my desk. He’s good, though the doctor is a little concerned about too much healthy crap in his diet.”

She slaps my chest, “Shut up!” Logan begins to jump on her legs before roughly crashing down to lay his head upon her shoulder.

“He didn’t get much of a morning nap, so we should put him down.”

Her lower lip comes out as a full on pout begins to take over her features, “No.”

“Very little napping. He had lunch out with the boys and I promised Sami and Lucus that we would be there for dinner. Will has something for him.” Stroking her cheek, I lean in to kiss her and then Logan, “If you want him nice for company you will want to put him down.” The lip grows bigger and I can’t help it. Again, I move forward and take the full button lip into my mouth. I suck lightly on it before pressing down to nip it gently before kissing her fully. It’s too easy to get lost in her, but Logan is a Black boy and he knows when he is lacking the proper attention. Before I know it, a slobbery kiss is planted half on my nose and half on Doc’s before I quickly pull back and grab at my son. Tickling him, “You need to learn timing, Mr. Man. Need to learn timing.”

“I think he has it quite perfectly.”

Nodding, I smile at her, “Why don’t you go put him down. Read to him and snuggle, but make sure he sleeps and I’ll get your bags from the car.”

I hand over Logan and begin to move out of the living room, but am stopped by her. I lean up against the banister as I hear, “John, three things.”

“And they are?”

“Why the rug underneath the highchair?”

“It’s a towel and it’s easier to clean after he is done throwing things than the floor. I bought lots. Next.”

Her hand moves to Logan’s head as he rests it on her shoulder. I move to grab a binki off of the table and hand it to him. Binki in place, snuggling on his mom’s shoulder and being gently rocked… nothing better than that for the kid. “He’s wearing new jeans. Baby GAP ones.” Her eyebrows arch in amazement and amusement, “You shopped?”

Now this is embarrassing. I look down at the ground and rub the back of my neck, “We shopped. His jeans are all that guy’s stuff… Segal something and- -“

“Fred Segal. He gave them to you for baby here.”

Pointing at her, “Yeah and they are around a hundred and fifty a piece, which is fine and all but I fear getting them dirty and we men, we seem to get dirty easily so we got a few new things. To make sure he was properly dressed and matching. Think they even got a few pictures of that… so you should be looking for it. Put it in his baby book under amazing events.” She laughs with me. Hers more softly than mine as she continues to rock the baby, “Third?”

“Why is the door locked?”

“Oh. He’s now tall enough to reach the handle. Not yet able to get a grip on it but its coming so I am practicing locking doors behind me.”

I can’t explain the look on her face. Actually, it’s the look in her eyes that has me. Its love and appreciation and everything that I can see there normally, but there is something new. Something I’ve never seen before and I’m not sure what it is. Sadness. Hurt. I never thought about how hard this must be on her. I spend a lot of time thinking about how hard this all is without her. Without her being here to help me out. But I haven’t really thought about how this time apart is affecting her – beyond the normal separation difficulty.

She spent so much time away from the twins and Carrie and Brady and Belle. So much time of their childhoods gone and this must be tugging at her mind. This time it’s her choice to be away, I wonder if this is hurting her more than I’ve realized.

She moves towards me, walking slowly and carefully and moves up a step before turning towards me. She leans down to kiss me quickly and then turns Logan towards me, “Sleep well, Mr. Man.”

“I’ll be back down in a few.”

“Take your time.”

I watch her go and as she disappears behind the corner, I move into the kitchen. Quickly hitting the baby monitor button, I move across the floor, slide into my sandals and unlock the door. I look back at the baby monitor and can’t help but smile as I hear the rustling of bodies. She’s in our room and as the music turns on, I know what she is doing. She’s going to take a nap with her little boy.

I move quickly out into the garage and towards her car to get her suitcase. This is all going to work out just fine, because she’s home and upstairs taking a nap with our son.
Page 4 of 8Oh God.

I groan. I can’t help it. I can feel the sun streaming in through the blinds. I haven’t even opened my eyes but I feel like the sun is burning them.

My hand reaches up to shield them before I roll over and squint at the clock. It can’t possibly be time yet. I just fell asleep.

Shit.

He’s even slept in by fifteen minutes so far. Next check: sound. I listen, but I don’t hear any crying, any yelling, any banging or even any singing. He’s still asleep. Which means I have at least ten more minutes of peace.

I shift in bed and close my eyes, ready and willing to use any more of my free minutes to good use. But something is wrong. Well, not wrong. That’s not the right statement, but something is certainly off.

My eyes open, even though I would rather they not and then I see her. Last night all comes rushing back to me. My tiredness, the soreness in my back, why I feel like I just fell asleep… it all makes so much more sense now. I did just recently fall asleep.

I turn on my side and watch her sleep. Last night had been heard. She had shown up with no warning, two days later than originally planned and I was far beyond furious. Been a long week for me at work, and three more weeks of dealing with the home front alone, I had just had about enough. I wanted to be furious. I wanted to scream and yell, but I also wanted Logan to sleep.

I also wanted my wife.

The last couple times she returned home, we haven’t really seen each other. About four months ago, we had a dinner party to go to and I don’t know who fell asleep faster, Doc or Logan. But both were out like lights and I was up and gone by the time either of them moved. Was like that all week. We had planned a special weekend getaway. Lock ourselves up in a perfect hotel room, lots of room service, sex, talking, and even a bath or two. But come Friday night, bags packed, Marlena got a call and off she went.

The next time, I had a business conference to go to. And the last one homecoming was about five weeks ago, but she was up early and worked late, so again, no time together.

Therefore, I took in a deep breath last night and decided my screaming could wait for another day.

Leaning forward, I kiss her shoulder lightly. I have missed her. That much is true. I miss cuddling on the couch, chasing her up the stairs, making love to her all night long and waking her up to do it all over again. Many would blame Logan’s presence for a lack of a sex life, but really, our jobs did it first. But it was much easier for me to fly out somewhere and surprise her for a weekend before the baby was born.

I’m down to about seven minutes. So I move a bit closer to Doc and begin a trail of kisses from her shoulder up to her neck and back down again. I love her freckles. She hates them, every last one, but I adore them. Logan has them. They just cover his body and I love calling him a dirty baby because of it.

As I find the perfect spot on her neck, I hear her deep intake in breath and know that she is being to wake up. My lips find her cheek, the bottom of her ear, for temple and then back down to her neck.

“Mmm…” leaves her lips, as she turns onto her back and easily pulls me down to her mouth. I smile as her arm hooks around my neck, holding me firmly in place and I happily attack her mouth with my own. The duel begins, both of us are still half asleep, but our tongues naturally find the others and being the ancient dance all on their own. We do not need to coax them and we alternate between deep sensual kisses to light pecks on the corners of our lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Looking down into her lazily opened eyes, “Feeling is mutual.” As I feel her hand slide down my back and move around my hip to my stomach, I give her a warning look. Her fingertips begin to lightly caress the bare skin right along the top of my sweat pants. Back and forth her fingers move. Lightly. Teasingly. And I can’t hold back the groan that leaves my lips and filters into her mouth. “Doc… we don’t have enough time.”

“Sure we do. It’s barely seven.”

“Yes and he has already slept in twenty minutes. He’ll be up any minute.” Each piece of information is handed over with a kiss, as I find her neck yet again. As I kiss the hollow of her neck, she arches her back to allow me better access. I smile and gently grab her hand before it ventures any lower. She can tickle all she wants on my backside, but definitely not the front. Not when I don’t have time to complete the task.

Her back arches again and I can’t stop my arm from sliding beneath her and pulling her lower body up and into my own. Pushing against her, I move gently, slowly. It’s cruel to the both of us and her quick intake of breath tells me that she thinks so as well. But my body is moving on instinct and as I lean my head down to catch her mouth in my own again, I hear it.

Bang. “Dada!” Bang. “Dada!” Bang.

That poor crib.

We don’t move and Marlena looks up at me, “What is he doing?”

“Banging the crib against the wall. He shakes it back and forth. The longer I take to get to him, the more he’ll bang it.”

Bang.

“Dada! Up. Peas!”

Bang.

My head moves with the sound effect and finally I lean down to kiss Doc one more time before I begin to move off of the bed. She grabs my side and gestures for me to roll over, back on the bed. “I’ll go get him.”

“Fine by me.”

So I roll over and find my pillow again. I’m more than happy to get five more minutes rest before the morning rituals begin. I hear her gentle voice wishing him a good morning and his reply.

My eyes begin to close again, but then I hear a shrieked out ‘No’ and a bang.

Pushing myself into a sitting position, I try to listen but I can’t seem to focus. Shaking my head, I try to remove the fog from my brain, but it doesn’t seem to work and suddenly, Marlena is in the doorway, pointing towards Logan’s room, “He wants you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Does it sound like it?”

Bang. Bang. “Dada! Up. Peas!”

Groaning, “Okay.” I drag myself out of bed and reach out a hand towards Marlena, as she helps pull me into a standing position. Together, arm in arm, we move into his room and I go towards the crib. “Logan…” I don’t move up to the crib, the banging has got to stop. “Daddy has told you not to bang your crib. That’s not big boy behavior. Now sit down. Sit.” I wait for him to sit. Normally he hits his butt immediately, but Doc’s presence has him thrown a bit, I think. “Sit down or you don’t get out.”

And so he sits.

“Okay, now ask nicely to get out.”

“Dada. Up. Peas.”

“No, out please.” I say it slowly.

“Dada. Ooot. Peas.”

“Better. Okay, come here.” I open my arms out and wait for him to stand up and grab a hold of my upper arms. Once he is on my hip, I turn him to look at me, “No more banging your crib. Got me?”

He nods his head. For once, just this once, I wish he truly meant it when he nods. His arm flies out and begins to play with Doc’s hair, “Mo- mee. Mo- mee hair.”

“You’ve got Mommy’s hair?”

“’Ogan’s hair.” He pats his own and then grabs a hold of my own, “Dada hair.” I have never figured out why he gets the ‘s’ sound at the end of his name but nobody else’s. Is he trying to let us all know that he owns everything? Because I have tried for hours upon hours to get that possession letter on something else, but no, just Logan.

“Okay, too early to pull on daddy’s hair. Love you too. Come on, go see mommy so I can go to the bathroom.” I hand him over to Marlena and begin the trek back to our room. Through the double doors, along the hallway and right into the bathroom. A few things to do and then breakfast.

I immediately go to the sink and splash some water on my face. God damn I am tired. I don’t even look in the mirror, I just rub some of the water through my hair and move on. It’s probably sticking up, but ask me if I care.

I push my sweatpants down my hips and that’s when I hear him. He’s on the ground and moving as fast as possible. “Dadda! Cm Mo-mee Cm.” I lean back as I take care of business to see him running towards the bathroom, but turned slightly. His hand is moving in a backwards wave, informing his mother to ‘come on’ and follow him.

He moves around me. Not seeming to care if I am finished or not and pushes my leg back. Staring straight into the toilet, he stares as his left hand pushes the handle down. The water swirls and Logan waves. “Buh bye.” And then giggles. And then pushes the lids down with a large crash and lets out a firm, “Ut oh.”

And then the fun is over. And off he goes. Back out of the bathroom, down the hall and he hesitates for a moment at the mirrors. I can’t tell if its his reflection or my clothes inside the closet that catch his attention, but it doesn’t last long before he is off again. I smile at Marlena and then begin to move after him, but then he turns around and comes running back.

This is new.

He stops again at the closet and this time I know it’s his reflection that has his attention. At first he simply looks. Then he sticks his tongue out and giggles. Up go his arms. Then he squats. A little twist. His PJ shirt is pulled up, as he leans back to pat his big belly.

And then I crack up. Keeping his shirt under his chin, he begins to roll his hips and finally almost belly dance, before raising his arms above his head and clapping.

I feel the tears fill my eyes and my throat burn as I try to hold back the loud laughter. Doc falls against my shoulder and together, we watch our son finish his one man show. Kissing the top of her head, I look down at her and whisper, “He’s got your skills baby.”

“Funny, was just thinking the same thing about you.”

“Ha. Okay, I’m starving. Logan… hey Mr. Man. Want pancakes?”

“Oh John, those take so much effort. Can’t we do something different, something easy.”

I look at her strangely and then figure out how to say this, “They are microwavable. You make three mini cakes, twenty-five seconds and a dip and your morning is perfect.”

“Really? When did he start eating these?”

“Oh… we found there a few weeks back. He doesn’t care much for eggos, so we tried something new. At first he just liked the box, now he actually likes the food. Come on, son.” I move away from her and grab him up into my arms. Turning him over, I lift him towards my mouth so I can blow on his exposed belly. “I got you… I got you.” Letting him pull himself back up into a sitting position, I stop and readjust him so that my arms fold underneath his butt and keep him tight against my chest, “Where is my morning kiss?”

He leans forward and my lips meet his slobbery ones, as he lets out a dramatic “Mm pa!” sound effect.

“And what about mommy? Does mommy get a morning kiss?”

“Oh yes,” Marlena moves close to me and leans down to her baby boy, “Can mommy have a kiss?”

I hold onto him tightly as he launches forward to kiss Marlena. She grabs him underneath his armpit and I let her lift him from my grip, as we move downstairs.

Things move pretty smoothly, it’s nice to have a morning together again. She plays with Logan and I begin the coffee. We let him run around our legs, as I begin our eggs and she attempts the pancakes.

I notice her pulling out a cup and just before she begins to pour the milk, I stop her. “Green cup.”

“Huh?”

I continue to stir the egg batter and simply repeat, “Green cup.”

“I like this one. What does it matter?”

“He only drinks out of green cups.”

“Oh John, that’s silly.” I arch an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t seem to be paying me any attention. “I like this red one. I bought t for him in Birmingham. Has a cow on it and all.”

Logan’s loud “Moo… moo…baa…” distracts me momentarily.

“Logan, up in your chair.”

Marlena moves quickly, “I’ll put him up in it.”

My mouth opens, but instead I just leave it be. Logan moves towards his chair at the table. It’s just a normal table chair, but on it is his booster seat. He uses the cross leg of the chair, just like I taught him and begins to pull himself up when Marlena grabs him to lift him. Immediately he shrieks out a “No” in objection. “Ogan do it!”

‘Do it’ is a phrase he knows almost as well as ‘mine’ and ‘no.’

“Doc, he usually gets himself into his seat. He eats better when he does it.” I shrug at my own saying, but it’s true.

“But John, first off, where is his high-chair and it’s dangerous to let him crawl up on here alone. What if he falls?”

I flip the eggs and realize that our fight that should have occurred last night or the last time she was home, is about to happen. It’s going to happen in pieces throughout the day until we have one big blow out. It’s not at all what I want. Yet, I do want to have my say and I can’t have my say without yelling. I don’t think it will work out. Sighing, I pile the eggs onto a plate and pour some more into the pan, “High-chair is in the basement until I figure out what to do with it. He’s been squirming out of it and trying to climb out or hide from food for weeks. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Even had been tying him with scarves and dishcloths. That works. And he climbs up it anyways, so I figure its better to teach him the proper way, the safe way. And I am always standing right there, like you are, to catch him if needed.”

She’s giving me a disapproving stare and I can hear the words pour from her lips before they even begin, “John, I wish you would have discussed this with me. I’m not sure I like him climbing like this. It’s dangerous and he is still so little.”

“And growing everyday. Eggs are done.”

She moves to get Logan’s plate, as I move towards him and toss some eggs down on his tray. “John, I have his plate right here.”

Reaching out, I thank her and just dump a portion of the food onto the tray. My hand immediately goes down to separate all the foods into piles and look up at her, “He could use some sort of fruit. He didn’t have any yesterday. Should be some mandarin oranges or pears in the cupboards.”

She moves to grab a banana and begins to peal it open. Catching her eyes, I shake my head. “Why are you shaking your head at me? Bananas are fruits.”

I can’t help by smile at her attitude and watch as she pops a piece into her mouth. Moving over to her, I bite into the fruit, kiss her on the lips and then reach behind her to grab some pears. “He doesn’t like those anymore. Oh don’t look at me like that. You put that on his tray, then he will start to throw everything and meal is over. Pears. Can do no wrong with pears. Sit down and eat your eggs before they get cold.”

Following my lead, she does as she is told. Taking her plate, she moves towards the table and sprinkles a bit of salt on them. I grab my dish, dump a few pears into a pile on the tray and then go to sit.

“Dip. Dip. Dip.” Over and over goes the word. How could I possibly forget?

Quickly, I move to the frig, grab the ketchup and the syrup and place a small circle of both on his tray. “Have at it son.”

We eat in silence and I can tell that some things are weighing on her mind. As the meal comes to an end, Logan demands his milk and before Marlena gives in, I stop her. “Logan Michael Black… where are your big boy’s manners?”

“Milk peas.”

“Thank you.”

“El’com.”

I chuckle and go to clean up. Then I hear the thunk. And his banging. I move quickly and scoop up all the left over food before he can begin to throw them. Passing by her, “He loves to throw things, especially food. I am trying to break that habit, but not much success yet.”

She just nods and hands Logan his cup of milk again. Again, it’s thrown.

“Logan, what’s wrong? You have to drink your milk.” As she hands it to him again, he pushes it away and attempts to pull himself out of his seat. He’s stuck and I love that. Finally he sits and begins to pound on his try, chanting, “Oot pease. Oot peas.”

She looks at me and I shrug. “He drinks out of green cups. Its your call, you can switch cups and try it or just leave him be.”

“He needs his milk.”

“And he also needs to learn. As I said, it’s your call.”

I rinse off the dishes and listen as she changes the cup. The red cup finds its way into the soppy water, as Doc moves to let Logan free. His feet find the ground and she hands over the green cup. He happily takes it and runs on his merry way. I hear her sigh and look over to see Marlena rubbing her forehead, “I can’t seem to do anything right.”

“He’s changing daily. Likes one thing one day and hates it the next. It’s hard for me to keep up and I’m with him everyday.” I thought that was a polite way to put it.

“John…” There is that tone of voice again. Lately she gets a superior tone, like I’m some little boy or a servant. I dunno, it just irks me lately. “This is already hard enough on me, you don’t need to be cruel.”

“Cruel? You think this is what I am being? All I’m doing is updating you. He likes pancakes, yes eats his eggs with ketchup and frankly I am fine with that because all the extra calories that he gets, the better. He drinks from cups that are green only. He does the sippy cups for breakfast and the straw ones the rest of the day. He doesn’t get plates because all he does is use them to destroy his food. I’m not trying to be the boss or the know-it-all but I’m here.”

“And you don’t think that that bothers me? That I don’t want to be here? I hate being away so much.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“John, it’s my job.”

“No, your radio station is your job. The talk show is your job and that’s all right here. You are never here.”

She moves closer to me and tries to quiet my tone, but I am having none of it. It’s a good time for this fight. I look around her to check on Logan and can tell that he doesn’t care. Moving past her, I pick up the remote and click on the TV. Wiggles time. When the music doesn’t immediately turn on, I squint my eyes and look at the clock for the time.

Shit.

We are off schedule. “Well Mr. Man, Little Einstein’s it is.” He sits with his milk to watch and I turn back to my wife. “Normally we watch the Wiggles, but we seem to be off-schedule.” I attempt a chuckle, but I know it comes out hollow. Rubbing the back of my neck, I attempt to think of something to say, “I thought that perhaps, well that we could sit down and discuss his birthday party sometime today.”

“His party? Isn’t it a little soon?”

“Well, no. its under two months away and we need to figure out what we are doing and then design and order the invitations, mail them, get the stuff, buy his presents. I don’t want to do this alone.”

“Alone? You make it sound like I do nothing.”

“Well Doc, honestly, what do you do?”

“John…”

“Well? Honestly Marlena, tell me. Laundry? Doctors visits? Playdates? Gymboree class? Hell, I even have him in a music group, library group, and baby dance class. Sadly, I don’t make it to all of them, but between Belle and Caroline, he gets there. You don’t even know where these places are.”

She looks down at her feet and mumbles, “I know where his doctor is.”


I don’t even touch that comment. “Marlena, get real with me for a minute. You know you are missing out on everything. Claire turned six and you missed it. You’re missing so many things that you can never get back and for what?”

“John, I am helping thousands of women. I’m doing my job. They need me, these empowerment groups are working wonders for women all over the US.”

“Yeah, well, we need you too.”

Marlena moves to touch me, but instead I back away. I don’t like it when she tries to use physical contact to ease my anger or sidetrack me. “I’m finally doing something that is important. That is helping people and I’m helping me. This, all of this, has helped heal me and everything Alex did to me.”

“That was almost five years ago Doc! How many more years do you need to heal? Just until Logan is in school? Or graduating High School? Is that long enough?”

“John, I don’t want to fight. I’m only home for a few days and I don’t want to spend all the time fighting in circles, fighting about things neither of us can fix.”

“If we don’t fight now, when will we? As you said, you are only home for a few days. Let me guess, not going to be here for Claire’s school play?”

She looks up at me shocked. She obviously forgot all about that. “But that’s not until November.”

“No, try next Monday.”

“Oh no, I wrote the date down wrong. I have to be in Cincinnati then.”

I move around her and stop at the coffee pot. My back is to her and I say the words just loud enough for her to hear, “And that’s more important than seeing Claire be Little Red Riding Hood.”

“I can’t cancel it.”

Turning fast, “Can’t or won’t?”

“John…” I turn back to the coffee pot. I don’t want to hear my name leave her lips one more time. She’s using that like it’s an excuse. Like that plea will make everything okay. “What do you want me to do?”

“Be home more.”

“I can’t just cancel the rest of the tour. I’ve made promises and have contracts. I can’t just give it all up and stay home.”

“I didn’t say quit and I never said you had to be home every damn day Marlena. But home more, meaning more than five days a month.”

“That’s not fair. If we are going to have this discussion, than lets have a real one. I’m home more than that. It just seems like I am gone more.”

I take a sip of coffee, trying to calm my nerves, but its not working. “You’ve been gone three weeks and one day. You were home for seven days last time. And were gone just under four weeks the time before that. You spend at least twice the amount of time saving the world as you do in your own house. Hell, you haven’t even noticed that I changed the goddamn wallpaper in the hallway!”

“John, I just got home last night!”

“I did it three months ago Marlena!”

My yell perks Logan’s hearing and he stands up and moves towards the steps. I take four long strides towards the remote and click up the TV’s memory core and begin to play an old episode of The Wiggles. I smile as he immediately runs back to the middle of the room. Placing down his milk, his arms go in the air as he begins to dance.

“Is that how you occupy him all day? Just turn on the TV.”

“Don’t try to change the conversation by picking apart my parenting skills. Seventeen minutes of Wiggles won’t kill him. Well, Sami thinks it might, but that’s a whole other story.” A hand runs through my hair and I just can’t figure out how this morning is turning into hell already, when it started off so nice.

“We need to talk about this. John, we can’t just keep picking at each other for the next couple of days. Let’s talk this through.”

“Well it quite easy Doc, I need you home more. Logan needs you home, as do Belle, Claire, Sami, Will, Carrie… we all need you here, helping us out. I’m not, nor have I ever said you can’t travel, but this is getting ridiculous and I can’t handle it anymore.”

“There is more to it than that, John. You have this… you’re bitter.”

“And what if I am? Can you really blame me? Doc, you’ve spent all of Belle and Brady’s life trying to make up for what you’ve missed. You’ve always said that you feel responsible for Sami and Eric and things that have happened, because you weren’t around. You even told me that if you had the chance, you would do it all so differently. Well, here was your chance. That little boy out there is your chance and you’re missing it. Just like all the others. It’s almost like you do it on purpose.”

“How dare you! I was taken by Stefano, by Kristen, by Tony… I didn’t plan any of that and you know it! It pains me that I missed so much of my children’s lives and that they’ve suffered for it.” She wipes at a tear, but still, nothing in me budges. “And yes, it would be true to say I have chosen it this time, but it’s not my intention. This job is important to me.”

“More important than your family?”

“No, of course not! And what did you mean by I am doing this on purpose. Explain that John Black.”

I look over my shoulder to check on Logan again and try to organize my thoughts. “I don’t know. I have a lot of time with my thoughts these days and it almost seems like you’re afraid and have never forgotten over the fear. You’ve said that with DJ you were afraid because you didn’t know what to do with him. Then the twins, same thing. You didn’t have to do a lot of their early upbringing because of circumstances, same with Brady and the same with Belle. You’ve never learned how to deal being a mom of a little one and here is your chance, and off you go again.”

“How… how dare… oh my god. I told you about DJ in confidence. Because I felt I needed to share that with somebody, somebody I trust. I didn’t tell you so that you could throw it back in my face!”

The tears are falling down her cheeks, but my anger at the situation and her inability to admit that she is wrong gets the better of me. “I’m not throwing it back in your face! I’m using it as a piece of information. I’m trying to make sense of all of this.”

“I didn’t choose any of this John. Stefano, Tony, Alex… I didn’t choose that. And I’m trying very hard to fix it all. But I didn’t choose it.”

“Well Marlena, I didn’t choose to be a single parent either.” And I’ve said it. It’s out there. “I’m going to change and go out for the morning. Call my cell if you have any problems.”

And that is the end of it for now. Let her think it over a bit. Let me think it over a bit. Up the stairs I go. Think I need some time at the gym.
Page 5 of 8“Okay… wait… wait, no no, wait.” I lift the camera quickly and aim it at him, “Oookay. Jump!”

Logan bends his knees and lets out the largest jump he has, right off the back deck and into the oversized pile of snow. His butt crunches into the cold snow, as he claps for himself. “One more time!”

“One more time?” He quickly gets up and attempts to point a finger at me to repeat his classic phrase. “Okay, but this is the last time, okay? Just this last one.”

He nods, but I know that will do little to stop his mantra from coming at me again. One more time, I put the camera up and count for him. He jumps, finds the snow, and claps again. He never gets tired of the same routine and shockingly, I find it just as adorable and funny the fourteenth time, as the first. As he moves to climb up again, I go to grab him, “Oh no. No more times.”

“One more time!”

“No, no more times.”

“One more time!”

I shake my head and refuse to crack a smile as he nods his weighed down head. “No, Mr. Man. All done. Let’s go kick the ball, come on, let’s go get your ball.” I start to jog towards it and turn my head to watch him, hoping that he will follow me. I can see him thinking it through, but finally he starts to run towards me. He falls once, but makes it to the soccer ball.

“Kick! Come on kick.”

His hands go to his hips, as he looks up at me, “Mine do it!”

Up go my hands, as I back away from the soccer ball, “Okay, you kick it.” He kicks it a foot or two away from him and chases after it. I move myself back towards the porch to pick up my thermos. Need to down the rest of the hot cider before it freezes.

God I am tired. I want to sit, but my jeans are cold and wet enough that they don’t need any more motivation towards freezing. I should have bought those ski pants, would make this easier than stiff jeans and wet boots. “Good kid! That’s it Logan. Kick it into the goal. Come on, towards the goal. We’ll have you on the team this summer.”

“You don’t think he is just a little too young yet for that?”
I smile up at the intruders, “Well, Claire, how old were you when you started ballet?”

“Um, like two.”

I arch an eyebrow at my daughter. Point proven. “So therefore, your brother is a little bit behind… or well will be come summer.” I groan as Claire jumps onto my back and squeezes her young arms around my neck. I grip her legs and begin to spin in circles. I can hear Logan’s giggle and the crunching of his boots on the snow. Pinching up her leg slowly, I take in what she is wearing, “Haven’t I told you, with surprise attacks you have to make sure you take the person down to the floor?”

“Yeah.”

“And why is that?”

“Cause if I don’t, you’ll throw me to the gr- Ah!” Her words are cut off as I flip her carefully over my shoulder and down into the powdery snow. Heavy gloves line her hands, making it hard for her to remove the hair from her face, “That happens.”

“Yes, that happens. Oh, your turn?” I squat down and smile at Logan as he races towards me. He moves around me and tries to pull me down. I use my right arm, balance, and practice to push him up onto my back and spin him slowly. “Hold on.” I feel his grip tighten a bit and that’s when I squat down, bend forward and allow him to slip over my shoulder into the snow.

Belle’s laugh joins my own, as Logan attempts, poorly, to roll himself over and get back on his feet. Claire helps him and he immediately turns towards me, “One more time!”

I shake my head, “No more times. Later. Daddy is too tired.”

“And too old?”

I may be old, but my reflexes are good, as my head whips around to look at my youngest daughter with a questioning glance. “Excuse me? Old?” Step by step, I get closer to the porch and before she can react, I jump up onto the wooden steps and scoop her up and over my shoulder. I can’t hold back my slight grimace as I straighten up. My daughter is by no means heavy, but she is no longer the easy fifty or sixty pounds. And I am no longer thirty or forty.

Adjusting her weight slightly on my right shoulder, I grip her thighs tightly, making sure that she doesn’t slip off, before I move back out into the yard. Both kids are watching closely, Claire is hysterically laughing as her mother is hysterically protesting.

“Dad… don’t you dare… dad no!”

I spin twice and then lean to the side to let her fall off my shoulder in a big heap. Not prepared for her grip on my jacket, I tumble down with her and receive a face full of snow.

Brain freeze.

I try to untangle myself and I can’t help myself as I scoop up some snow and sprinkle it over her. “Dad!”

“What? You face planted me!”

Unceremoniously, Belle throws snow at me and so the war begins. I pick up some snow and begin to move away from the crowd, rounding the ball between my gloved hands. Moving around the playset, I toss a floater and watch as it barely misses Claire. “Papa!” My next one hits Belle squarely in the shoulder and now I have both blondes coming after me.

I toss another snow ball, grab some snow and move quickly to grab up Logan and run behind a tree. “Come on son, we’ve got to get the girls, okay? Here you go… yeah. Now go get your sister. Run and throw it at her. Go… go… there ya go boy!” I smile broadly as he makes his way slowly towards Belle. The one thing I love about the snow is that it slows him down. He is such a terror lately. Speedy quick, especially outside, but the weight of his clothes and the boots just take him back to his baby stage and I love it.

Logan chases his sister until Belle fakes being trapped and Logan tosses the ball at her. It misses, but she pretends to be hit and falls to the ground. She is so good to him. I knew it would be weird to have a brother younger than your own child, but she has this brilliant relationship with him. He allows her to be playful and as Belle puts it, ‘cool’ again, because she’s not the mom. She doesn’t have the responsibilities. Just the fun.

Shit! “Ah!” I turn quickly and look right into the face of my beautiful and mischievous granddaughter. “Claire!”

“Got you back Papa!” I do a little dance, as I try to get the snow out of my coat but she got me good. Right on the neckline and now it’s melting piece by piece down my back.

“Your mother has taught you well. But now it’s all out war.”

“Head start!”

I’ll never get tired of this. What I love the most is special little things like this with my kids. ‘Head start’ is something I taught her when she was barely a toddler. It means I am coming after her with no mercy, so she better use her few second head start to good use. I nod and off she goes. Out loud, “One, two, three, four, five, six…” and off I go. I chase after her, noticing that Logan is playing on his slide, but I don’t see Belle anywhere.

As I run, I scoop up snow and pack it together. Catching Belle out of the corner of my eye, I throw the snow at her and smile as she ducks at the last minute. Soon after, a hard snow ball comes after me. I barely side step it, but Claire manages to get me on my butt. Scooping and packing again, I bend down and look between my legs and toss a snow ball gently around my side. Hitting her in the head and I immediately start laughing, as she hits me again.

Chaos continues until I can no longer feel my fingers and I know Belle is freezing. Neither of us are really dressed for rolling in the snow and it has to be a good half hour since I first dunked her into it.

Patting Belle’s leg, I try to get up and instead end up groaning. “Help?” Belle takes my hand and begins to pull as Claire comes behind me and pushes on my ass to get my old body standing. “Ugh. Thanks. I think the parents have had enough, what do you think sweetheart?”

“I think you are right. Good war.”

Shaking her hand, I pull Belle towards me and hug her, “I love you.”

“Love you too. I think I need something to drink.”

“Oh, I just made some hot cider this morning. Should still be in the pot.” I move over to Logan. I bite on my glove and pull it off to feel his cheeks. Realizing that my frozen hand wasn’t any use, I pull him towards me and kiss his cheeks. Cold, but not numb yet. “What do you say we grab a cup and give these two five more minutes?” At her nod, I turn back to my son, “Mr. Man, five more minutes. Got me? You only have a few more minutes to play, so go down your slide again.”

He nods and rushes off. I turn to tell the same to Claire but she just nods and smiles out a, “Got you Papa.”

Together Belle and I move towards the backdoor. I try to shake off the snow in my hair, but instead I just take off my jacket and shake it, tow out of my boots and step indoors. I allow Belle to get in, before I reach back out and pick up the wet shoes and move them over onto the throw rug to dry.

“They’ll… well he’s okay out there alone?”

“Yeah, I can see him from the kitchen. He is pretty good with staying in view and coming when I call.”

“You make him sound like a dog, dad!”

“A well trained and adorable one!” We share a laugh, as I pull out two mugs. My eyes roam out the window to make sure that he is doing okay, and smile at the scene of Claire pushing him on the swing until he falls out into the snow.

“Be careful Claire!”

I look at Belle and shake my head, “They’re fine. He’s pretty tough. Here.” I take a careful sip. My whole body is tingling as it warms up. My lips and cheeks pretty much hurt, but I try not to think about it. “I have some hot chocolate for Claire if she wants.”

“She’d love that. So how are things?”

“Oh same old same old. The merger went through, so that means a shit load of work right now.”

“But not forever, right? Wasn’t that suppose to help free up some time?”

I drink and nod, “It will. Soon. First I will be overworked to get everything in place and then I can step back and let the new projects and systems run themselves.” I run a hand over my face, “I’m just too tired lately, I can’t physically do it anymore.”

“Just because you are my superman, doesn’t mean you have to act like it for everybody else, you know? You’ve worked very hard, for a long time and you deserve to take a step back.”

“Let the youngsters take over?”

“Well, yes.” I watch Belle as she watches the kids. She is leaning up against the kitchen table and staring out into the snowy backyard and I know there is something on her mind. I don’t press, I simply stare and wait. It’s our thing. My stare lets her know that I know something is up and sooner or later, she’ll get uncomfortable enough to tell me. “Besides being tired, how are things?”

“Going well. Logan started his daycare on Wednesdays and Fridays. Its three hours and then he comes home and takes a nap. So I can get things done. And of course, there is Thursday gymboree. Thinking of keeping him awake, no more naps so that he sleeps in. Think that will work?”

“Did it ever work with me?”

“Well…” I laugh, “Good point, but he is the new model. I have molded him much better than I did with you. Your mom always interfered and I didn’t get to shape you into my creation like I have Logan.” My voice slowed at the end of that, because I finally realized what I said and it almost makes me sick. Instead, I try to play it off, “I feel like Dr. Frankenstein, but he gets up so damn early. I’m willing to try anything.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“How are you and mom? I thought she would be here. We brought her present.”

I look over at Belle, confused. Christmas is still a few weeks away. Three to be exact, so I have no idea what she means exactly. “What present?”

“Her birthday present. Claire still hasn’t managed to get it to her. Remember, mom didn’t make it for her birthday party early enough for Claire and she left before we got back over here. Missed her the last time too and then we were out of town for Thanksgiving last week or two weeks ago. So we still have it.”

“Oh.” What more is there to say? “She got a call yesterday and something had gone wrong at a convention or luncheon thingy and she had to rush out and do damage control. She’s probably on the news right now. They are just going to fill the next few shows out there.”

“Out where?”

“Kentucky, I think. I don’t really remember. Was a little too pissed off to truly listen to her. I’m getting very tired of all of this.” My voice is harsh and I move to look out at the kids. Quickly my face softens, this isn’t Isabella’s problem, but she has been here day in and day out listening and understanding. “I’m sorry. We probably should round up the kids and warm them up.”

“In a moment.” I feel her hand on my shoulder, so much like her mother. “Dad, this is me. I do understand, I know what you have been going through. I’ve been here, watching and trying to help. So, let me help. Did you speak to her about this? Calmly?”

“Yeah, but she handed me the same bullshit of this is her job and she has to do this and that I need to understand. I don’t understand. I won’t understand.”

“And… dad, do you still feel that you would rather… well, you said before that if you were going to have to be a single parent, you’d rather actually be single. Did you still feel that way? I understand if you do, but… I’m worried.”

I step over and pull Belle to me, “I do still feel that way most of the time. I don’t know what is going to happen sweetheart, but please trust me, I’ll make it all work out. Somehow.”

“There goes my Superman again. Perhaps, and I hate saying this, but you need to think about yourself and Logan, and well, perhaps mom needs a wake up call.”

I kiss the top of her head and try to hold in my tears. I don’t know what I would do without my baby girl. She is the glue that holds me together and Logan and I are so grateful to have her around. “Perhaps. Everything will be just fine. I promise you.” Stepping towards the door, I lean out and let out a loud, “Come on guys! Claire, Logan… time to come in. Logan, do you want a snack?”

“Snack!” Claire’s voice overpowered Logan’s, but together, hand-in-hand, they make their way towards the door.

“Oh my god… you two are so cold!” Belle moves around me to more fully get a hold on her daughter, “You are an icicles! Get in here.”

“Come here Mr. Man.” I pull off his jacket and pull down his snow pants before lifting him in my arms, “Up we go.” Off go his boots and pants, as I carry him inside. I pull him tightly to me, “Brrr… you are freezing! Did you play in the snow?”

He buries his face in my sweater and I bounce him lightly as I move to warm up some of his milk and grab some animal crackers for my snow babies.
Page 6 of 8Logan smiles happily as he walks towards the horse. Marlena and Caroline keep a close eye on him, as he slowly approaches and reaches out to pat the small horse. “Careful Logan… be gentle” is the grandmother’s warning. “That’s it, nice and slow” is the mother’s encouragement.

He smiles back at them, making sure that their eyes are on him and him alone. And then he is lifted up onto the small saddle. He immediately takes the reigns and just like all those movies he has seen, motions for the horse it get moving.

The horse moves. Logan jerks forward.

Out comes his bottom lip. Crocodile tears pool in his eyes. “Mine want down now peas.” He launches himself from the horse. Caroline catches him.

“So much for your dream of being a cowboy there.” I roll my eyes and laugh, as I move away from the television. I can hear the voices on the DVD, desperately attempting to coax him back up on that horse. Well pony? Small horse? Is there a difference? I let out a harsh sigh, “Probably.”

Pushing my glass into the water dispenser on the frig, I wait for it to fill. Something catches my attention and I immediately look down the hall. Is he awake or am I hearing things?

Stopping the water, I move towards the front of the house and stand at the bottom of the steps. I never look up the steps to see if there is any movement, instead I always look off to the side, pointing my ear in the direction of his room. Listening for footsteps, quiet talking, or the movement of toys… but I hear none.

Shrugging, I move back to the kitchen, grab the glass and take a long sip as I lean slightly to catch the TV screen. “Oh yes… the hospitable fight caught on tape. A lovely memory that is sure to make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside someday.”

The two adults continue to disagree behind practiced smiles. One of us with a phone in her hand and the other, well mine, with a bowl of chips. The cameraman finally takes a little bit of pity on us. I probably should have edited this part out. Oh well.

But there is Logan’s smiling face. Happy, as long as he was away from the mean old small horse. I turn and grab supplies out of the frig and begin to hastily make a sandwich. I know my time is short and I’m behind schedule.

Just as I bite down, the side door opens and I pause to hear who it might be. “Hello?”

“Hey honey, want to give me a hand?”

Looking down at my sandwich covered hands, “Um… not really able to this second. Have mustard all over me currently.”

“Oh, will grab the suitcase later then.” Marlena moves into the kitchen and plops down her briefcase, sweater, bag, and papers. I try not to cringe, since I just straighten up the area, but I think it happens anyways.

“Uh, sweetheart, not to sound rude because I know you just walked in the door and all, but… the Brady clan is coming over for dinner soon and… well your stuff can’t stay there very long.” Quickly adding, “But I’d be more than happy to help you move it in a moment.” For the first time I think, she looks up at me. Her eyebrows raise, but she says nothing. Finally giving up the wait, “What?”

“What are you doing?”

I look down at my sandwich in my hands and the sink below. “Eating?”

“We own plates John.”

“I know that. But I did the dishes, so that I would have enough plates for tonight. So this is an easier cleanup.”

“Men.”

“Logic.” I take another bite and realize that we will be picking up from where we were the last time she left. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you tonight. How was the conference?”

“It was good. Not as good as the Chicago benefit last week, but it was beneficial in some ways. But not sure we’d ever go again. So who is all coming over?”

“Bo, Hope, Ash, Shawn, Belle, Claire, Roman, Jamie, Sami, Will, Lucus, Mom, Pop and… I think that’s it. The gang. Oh and Kayla I think.”

Marlena looks around the kitchen and doesn’t seem convinced, “You don’t look ready to host a dinner.”

“The food is coming to me. Easier that way. But I do have to hit the basement and bring up some of the pop, beer, wine and such. Running so far behind today. There was an accident on the 990 today so we were late to Little Red School House today and he missed the opening song, which he hates to do. Then I was late to my meeting and I ran in to grab him and Ms. Susanne decided that would be a brilliant time to corner me about the Spring into Summer play and party whatever that is coming up. They want me to be a tree. Nice, huh? Always delightful. And yeah… just always thirty minutes behind it seems.”

“A tree huh? When is this all taking pla-” She runs off when she realizes that she does not have my full attention. Logan, with blankie tightly in his grip, moves down the hallway and into the kitchen. He doesn’t see me and turns at Marlena’s voice, “Oh my baby boy! Come here.” She opens her arms and the half-asleep brown-eyes baby moves towards her embrace. “Ooo mommy has missed you just so much! Oh my sweet baby boy.” She keeps chatting, hugging, kissing, squeezing.

His fingers find his mouth again and his head rests down on her shoulder. He is just so tired. “Hey buddy, still tired?”

He nods his head, but doesn’t lift it up. I can see his hand moving and I know what is about to happen before it even does. Mommy’s home and he thinks he is safe to drop a couple of our big boy rules. Or he is unsure of what is happening right now. One of the two, but all I know is that I can’t allow it. I’m not going back to step one on this. I move over towards them and pop his thumb out of his mouth. As he puts it back in, our eyes meet and the dark brown versus blue eye battle begins. “Logan… no thumb.” I give him a moment before I start the lecture, “Do big boys suck on their thumbs?”

“No.”

“So, you are a baby, right? Because you are sucking on your thumb? Baby Logan.”

“Mine not a baby!”

“You’re not a baby?”

“No!”

“Then pop the thumb out.” He looks at me. Then Marlena and finally back at me, before he does as he is told and lets his hand fall back down to his side. “Thank you.”

I meet Marlena’s look and I give her my ‘what’ expression. “What is that all about?”

“We have just about licked the thumb sucking stage.”

“But he’s exhausted. It can’t hurt, so why are you being so tough on him?”

“Because he hasn’t sucked on his thumb in over two weeks. This isn’t an easy habit to break and I have been fighting this tiring battle for a year now. I’m way too close to have a setback now, thank you. He knows better, he’s just using the situation to his advantage.”

“Because I’m home?”

“Because you haven’t been a pain in his behind about it, like I have. That’s all. Logan, want some juice?”

Marlena continues to pat his back and I know that she is talking to him, but I’m just not focusing in enough to hear the actual words. Instead its juice half way into the red cup, water the rest of the way, straw in and top screwed on. A small shake and the juice is ready for him. “Doc, his juice.” I shake it in the air so that she notices it and then place it on the counter, as I quickly pull his other cups out of the dishwasher and toss them back up into the cupboard. Eleven red cups. Before it was orange. Before that blue. Before that green. I think my son needs to start liking the rainbow as a whole, not in pieces.

“Are you ready to wake up now, huh?” Marlena hands him his juice and immediately, he sits up in her arms to open it. Handing me his blanket, he concentrates on his juice. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Yes mine did. Grape juice! Dats my fav-rit mommy! T-y some.”

“No thank you. You drink it. John was he sleeping in our room?”

“No why?”

“Was just wondering.”

I look at her strangely, but then pose the question to Logan, “Logan, were you sleeping in mommy and daddy’s bed?”

“Noooooo.”

I love when he does that. His mouth gets all long and almost ghost like. “Were you sleeping in Claire’s bed?”

“Noooo.”

“How about in the guest bed?”

“Noooo.”

“In the hallway?”

“Noooo.”

“No? Where were you sleeping then?”

“In mine bed!”

I watch as both of them laugh. They do share the same kind of laugh. Belle and Claire have it too and I swear so does Brady. I think laughs can be learned, rather than genetic. They all possess the same sound and air about them.

Marlena jumps into the conversation, “You were sleeping in your crib?”

“No mommy! Mine big boy’s bed.”

Her face drops a bit and this might not go well, so I press on, “And who is on your big boy’s bed?”

“Race car! Mommy red race car on mine big boy’s bed! Dat my fav-rit! Red race car.”

“Red race car? John?”

“Lighting McQueen from the Disney Cars movie… remember you watched it on the plane with him a while back. He just loves the movie and we saw the bed so…”

“So you just decided he was ready for a real bed?”

I stare at her until I can see that she is a bit calmer and her voice won’t come out quite as high pitched, “He is three. We did have this discussion and he needed a new bed. He outgrew the crib.”

Logan pinches Marlena’s cheeks together to make sure that she is focusing on him, as he says slowly, “No crib. Red race car bed. Got it?”

The laugh comes out hard. I meant to hold it in, but ever since Claire taught him that, it just makes me laugh. I can’t help it. As Marlena tells him she’s got it, he stares at her a moment longer and replies, “Good.” But then the TV catches his eye. “Dats me! Me on the TV! Put me down mommy!”

Before Marlena can put him down, I stop her with a hand on the arm, “Logan, is that how you ask nicely? Show mommy your manners.”

“Put me down please.”

“Logan…”

He takes in a dramatically deep breath and lets out in a memorized sing-song voice, “Mommy may you peas let me down peas?”

She smiles at him, kisses his cheek and lets his feet touch the floor. As he jets out of the kitchen and down to the two steps into the living room for the TV, I am about to call out about the no juice in the living room rule, but he stops, walks backwards towards the steps. Never taking his eyes off of the TV, he puts his juice down on the kitchen floor and runs back towards the couch. Leaning against the oversized ottoman, he happily watches his birthday party.

I, not so happily, turn to face my wife. “What?”

“What? Oh don’t what me John. You know exactly what I am thinking. We never decided about the bed change.”

“No, we didn’t. I did.” She crosses her arms and I know where this is going. Its going to the same place our fights always go, “He needed a new bed Marlena. I mentioned it to you.”

“And I said we would discuss it.”

“Um when? I have brought it up at least three times in the past five weeks. We didn’t have another five to wait. So I gave the crib back to Belle and got the race car bed. And let me just say, my life has been so much more restful since, because he just comes into the room and turns on the Disney Channel and I can get a few extra minutes of sleep.”

“He watches TV when he wakes up?” All I do is shrug my shoulders, because what else is there to do? He does watch TV and those one or two cartoons each morning makes my life heavenly. But Marlena isn’t exactly seeing it my way at the moment, why would she? “John…” She moves closer to me, but then stops. Already, she is seeming tired. I hate that coming home does this to her, but I have come to realize that there is nothing I can do to make this easier on her. “John…”

This time I break in, “Doc, he watches Mickey’s Clubhouse or Jojo’s Circus or Georgie or Handy Mandy. Nothing bad. Nothing graphic and he doesn’t do it all day. This way, if he waits up a bit early, I don’t suffer for it anymore. No more chipping the paint on his wall, no more screaming at the top of his lungs, and no more dangerous climbing out jobs on his part. It’s simple. It’s working for right now.”

“So it stays?”

“Well, dare you to try and put him back into a crib. He’s a big boy. He’s three and we need to stop treating him like he’s still a baby. And, while you are home, if you want to wait at the crack of dawn with him so he doesn’t rot his brain on thirty minutes of Toon Disney, then please, be my guest. He’d love it.”

Marlena turns to watch Logan. I glance around her to see that he is still in his spot, leaning against the ottoman watching his birthday party. Her voice is quiet as she begins, “I do love that.”

“What?”

“How he stands there. Doesn’t blink, just watches. Completely focused. Think he will ever be that way with his homework?”

I pick up a washcloth, rinse it out quickly and begin to rub down the counters, “Sure.” The look she shoots my way makes me laugh, “Seriously, we’ll make sure that he finds it as exciting as the television. They say education is only as good and as fun as the parents make it.”

“Not the teachers?”

“Them too. It’s a joint union.”

She laughs fully at me and rolls her eyes up towards the lights. “Is there a ceremony that we’ll have to go through each year with his teachers?”

“Well, we’ll definitely be finding a different school than the one that we used for Brady and Belle. Thinking Salem Elementary will do just fine.”

“We have a few years to battle that one out.” Her sentence stops quickly and I turn to look at her. The shrug in her shoulders confuses me, “Battle was the wrong word. I’d like to accomplish something without a battle. But speaking about schools… we should probably have that chat about nursery school.” Marlena moves over towards me. Her hand slightly pats my shoulder, as she moves around the breakfast counter and over to the cupboard. I watch her as she takes out a glass and goes over towards the frig. Opening it up, her eyes scan the contents and I immediately busy myself with scrubbing away a burn spot. “Got enough juices in here?” I don’t answer, instead I just continue to work. “John? Sweetheart…”

I don’t look up and I know she has stepped up to the breakfast bar and is leaning over to see my face. So I look up, “What?”

“Care to have that conversation soon?”

“Which one?”

“About the bed, schools, whatever else.”

“Oh that conversation. Doc, the last time you came home I said we needed to have a chat and make some decisions together.”

“I know.” She stands up straight and crosses her arms. Here we go again, “But I didn’t have time. I’m sorry.”

“I waited for you. I asked, I made time, and you never made any. We had nine days and you couldn’t find the time. I’m sorry.”

Hazel eyes narrow on me and I am tired of sugar coating things for her, dancing around the truth, what’s the point? There isn’t any. So, instead I just stare back at her. Every so often, my eyes glance back down to see if the spot has disappeared on its own. “You’re sorry for what?”

“I figured it out on my own.”

“But John…”

“But buts, Marlena. I asked. I tried. I made time. You didn’t have time.”

“I had the conference.” Her tone is getting tight and I know she is gearing up for a fight. She’s been home a total of thirty minutes, I guess we’re overdue. “I told you that I wasn’t any use to you until after all that was over, so here I am.”

“Whoopie.”

“John, don’t be cruel and don’t force a fight here.”

I simply shake my head, as I move back towards the sink and look for the scrub brush. “Do you remember what I told you before you left?”

“At dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“You said that I needed to focus more at home.”

“Well yes, and I also said that I had waited nine days for you to make time for me, so that we could make a few parenting decisions… together… like you want.” Turning back towards the sink, I find the brush and move back to the spot. A quick glance at her and then I focus on the spot and continue talking as casually as possible, “Sorry, burned this this morning and if Caroline sees it, I’ll get a lecture about hot things on surfaces again. But anyways… one second…” With one final quick brush, it’s gone. “There. Sorry, as I was saying, I waited for you so we could make decisions, but I wasn’t going to wait until you finished the conference and came home. Three weeks was three weeks too long. I said that we needed to decide on his bedroom, the bed, a new doctor, and his school.”

“And soccer.”

“Yes, and soccer. That’s right.”

“See, I do listen.”

“I never said you didn’t. You just don’t act.” My finger goes up to stop her reply, “I also said that since you didn’t make our appointments to make decisions that I was making them alone. And that is how life would work from now on. I give you opportunities, if all fail, then I choose.”

There, I said that pleasantly. No major bitterness. No insults or anything, just the plain honest truth. But she doesn’t seem to think so.

“So, he will be going to daycare.”

“Yes.”

“And I don’t get a say in this at all. I don’t want him to yet, you want him to and what, you win? He’s my son too.” I bite my tongue to keep my usual reply back and her smirk shows that she knows it too. “John, honestly, I told you that I wasn’t comfortable with that.”

“Marlena, I have a job too, remember?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

I look over my shoulder to make sure that Logan is still watching the movie. He has his truck and runs it across the ottoman every once in awhile, but his eyes are still focused and I smile as he starts to talk to himself. Glancing up at the screen, the camera moves around the backyard, showing all the family members and guests and kids on the pony and there is Doc in the background, by her tree on her cellphone. A quick glance at her, I see that she is watching the same thing and noticing the same thing that I am, and I can tell that it troubles her. A part of me is happy for that.

“Doc, I have a job. I love our son and I love spending full days with him, but I need to start spending a bit more time at work, a little me time, and Logan could use some time away from his old man. Make some friends. Experience life through someone else’s eyes and whatever other shit the shrinks are always saying.”

“And you accuse me of making my career a priority?”

I laugh. What else do you do for a shitass ridiculous statement like that? You laugh. It’s the only reaction there is. “Wow, you are something. I have spent three years as an almost full-time, at home father. It is time for him to have a little space and its time for me to have a little space. Its also time for me to lend a hand at Basic Black again. The time has come.”

“The Walrus says!” His voice shocks both of us, as we turn to see Logan standing next to us, holding up his red cup. “More juice please.”

“How about some water? Ask mommy to put some water in there for ya.”

“Here mommy.”

She takes the cup but doesn’t move. “How do you ask?”

“May I peas have some water in mine red cup peas mommy?”

“Yes you may.”

“Daddy she said yes you may!” I giggle with him and lean over to tickle his ribs lightly, “Do it again daddy! No no tickle. Don’t Walrus again.”

“Oh… okay. Ready?” I wait for him to nod, before I begin our trick. “Watch this mommy. The time has come…”

“The Walrus said!”

“To speak of…”

“Many things.”

“Of…”

“Shoes and ships!”

I laugh at the way ‘ships’ comes out. If he isn’t careful, it tends to come out more as ‘shits’ than anything else. “And ceiling wax. Of cabbages and…”

“Kings! Like me!”

“And why the…”

“Seas!”

“Are boiling…”

“Hot!”

“And whether…”

“Pigs have wings!”

“Come on along and… I don’t know anymore more. Do you?”

“Cab-bajes and kings!”

Marlena claps for the two of us and bends over to kiss Logan’s cheek. “No kissing mommy. No kissing.”

“Oh I’m sorry. Here is your water.”

“Tanks and airplanes!”

“What? John?” She looks at me and I shrug. She smiles and shakes her head and happily watches her son run back towards the living room.

But before he makes it, he stops and turns back, “Daddy, may I peas take mine water in the living room?”

“Yes you may, because its water.”

And off he goes again. Always so much energy and I am not only running low on it, but I am running out of time.

“John, we should discuss this some more.”

“There is no need to.”

“I don’t like daycare and he is just too young for school.”

“It’s pre-school Marlena. They eat, nap, sing songs, and play games. It’s not a Hitler party and its not a daycare. He’ll learn some Spanish and count past fifteen and perhaps, if I am lucky, they can teach him that seven is a number and can’t be skipped.”

“I still think we should discuss this more.”

“No, Marlena. I already signed him up. He starts in two weeks and I will be more than happy to bring you there so you can meet and speak with the teachers and you can even see him there. He loves it already. Its called the Little Red Schoolhouse. The kids are split up, most of the day, by age level and ability levels so he will learn basic things. He needs it. He’s spoiled and pampered here and he needs to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around him. Something I have been trying to do, but it’s not easy.”

“John, I just don’t thin-“

“And I’m sorry Marlena, but I just don’t care what you think anymore. I gave you chances and I can’t wait. He can’t wait. He’s growing daily and doesn’t have three weeks to wait here and four weeks to wait there anymore. Decisions have to be made and if you can’t find time to be apart of it, then I will do it myself. And that’s how it will be until something changes around here. Now, if you want to be helpful, Logan needs to be washed down and changed. You can take him in the shower with you, if you were going to take one. I put his outfit out on his chair. Caroline bought it for him.”

“Okay, hey buddy! Logan, want to take a shower with mommy? We need to get clean for the party.”

I can see his eyes light up from across the room. He loves the shower, “In your shower?”

“Yep, in my shower.”

He comes running through the kitchen, nearly throws his cup at me and moves around the corner towards the stairs yelling, “Daddy, I go shower in your room with mommy.”

“Don’t touch the water until mommy is up there!”

Marlena moves after him. I do hate moments like these. It seems to be the only moments I have with her anymore, but I do hate them. I always feel so bad, yet I don’t disagree with anything that I have said or done.

That’s when she stops and turns back towards me, “John, you meant what you said to me before, didn’t you?” At my questioning look, “That you still love me, but don’t really like me much anymore. You meant that.”

“I did.” The words slip out so fast, that the blood falls from my face. I let out a sigh and move towards her slowly. Cupping her face in my hands, I stare down at her, hoping that perhaps she can still read me as well as she once use to, “I love you so much. You are the other half of me and no matter what, that will always be true. But no, I don’t like the woman you are becoming and I don’t know what that means for us, but… but I do love you.” I lean down and kiss her gently. Once there was a time when she would walk through that door and we would immediately be in each other’s arms, catching up on lost time. Now it takes us hours and sometimes days to get to this point. Pulling away, I kiss her forehead and look towards the stairs, “You better go before he floods the floor again.”

“Again?”

I smile sheepishly at her, squeeze her shoulders, turn her around and gently push her in the right direction.
Page 7 of 8“So what else happened dad? You aren’t telling me the whole story.”

I allow the phone to drop and cradle itself on my shoulder, while my hands move up to rub my eyes. What is the whole story? I am not even sure what all was said between Marlena and I anymore. We fight. We say mean and bitter things to each other and then we proceed to do whatever we damn well please, without much regard to the other person. If it wasn’t so damn stressful, it would actually be the most useful and productive strategy that we’ve had in years.

“Belle,” Her name is as far as I get.

“You two lost your temper again, didn’t you?”

“Well that is a given. Belle, your mom and I haven’t had a civil conversation in months. Three to be exact. We just start off yelling now, it moves the conversations along that way.”

My sarcastic humor falls flat and I can see my daughter’s unamused eyes. Her face is so much like her mother’s that it often depresses me. And I don’t mean that in such a harsh way, but I see Belle and Shawn laugh together and play with Claire and I remember when that use to be Marlena and I. I see Belle laugh and yearn to hear that from her mother. Sometimes it is like living with a ghost and our daughter is the one left doing the haunting. How is that fair?

“I’m sorry Tink. That wasn’t nice. Yes, we fought, about what I do not know. She still didn’t like some of the other parents when she went to Logan’s school concert last month and she is still adamant about me pulling him out and finding him a new pre-K to go to.”

“And you said no?”

I listen too closely to the sounds going on in the background to figure out where Belle is or at least what she is doing. “Yes. In May when she had the issue I said I would look into it. It is the best school in the area and I have explained the pros and cons of each school. Belle, you know how much time I put into going to the schools last winter. I did a lot and I did a hell of a lot more research this summer. I went to every one that was listed, suggested and a few more that I randomly found. Church ones, public ones, private ones, you name it I went and looked at their program. The Little Red Schoolhouse had what I needed in January for Logan and preschool and it still had everything I needed in the best possible way and the safest way with the best education package in the area. Who knew a four year old needed an education packet? But their Pre-K program is amazing. Few others have it without having to go to the local elementary schools, but I even looked into that. I talked to parents, well more mothers. I got opinions, met with the teachers, wen- -”

I am cut short but Belle’s insistent “Yes dad… yes… I know.”

“Sorry. You know. So I looked again in May to find somewhere new for him to go this year. Unless we want to drive nearly an hour every morning, there is nothing. Or move. She suggested the move because she really does not care for this neighborhood anyways. How the fuck would she know?” The statement slipped out before I could stop it. “Sorry.” I drop the phone again and take in a deep breath. I need to stop talking to Belle about this. I can’t handle the strain because it is too unfair for her to be put in the middle. She may be a grown woman now, but that doesn’t make this any better. What child wants to be in the middle of her parents’ war? Brady will only hear the very basics because he doesn’t feel justified in having an opinion. Though he is supposedly moving back here in the spring so he may not have that excuse working for him anymore. And Sami… poor Sami. This has torn her up inside so now she is just deciding to pretend it isn’t happening and I have let her.

Picking up the phone, I continue, “Belle, this is why I don’t like discussing this with you anymore. Its not right. You are my daughter, our daughter and this shouldn’t be put on you this way. I know you want to help and I do know you are involved and I wouldn’t survive without you sweetheart, but I cannot control my temper any longer. I am on a short fuse lately.”

Which is true. I lost it. I lost it the last time she was home. It all started seven months ago when she arrived home spontaneously for the Brady family dinner. Not that she knew it was going on, even though I had mentioned it. Bitter, yes? But it is a fair assessment. I told her that I did not like her, the person that she has become over the years. I told her that again last night on the phone. I am sure I have said it a few other times in the past seven months as well.

But last night I went a step further. I lost it. The rage that I felt even scared me into being thankful she wasn’t standing in front of me. I may have hit her. I may have thrown the lamp in her direction, instead of just at my office wall. Anything was possible at that moment because she had finally pushed me over the edge. I was free-falling. Just as helpless as I had been all those years ago on the plane, leaving Salem. All that repressed anger. Nearly thirty years of history between us and throughout that time period, the amount of times I have been walked on by her, backed off for her, allowed her to win no matter the pain it caused me… its countless. It was unfair, but I took every unfair, unjust, insulting moment where she had demeaned me, my thoughts, my opinions, and most of all my feelings and unleashed it on her in one bold move.

I’ve resulted to begging these past months. Nearly hands and knees pleading with her. And she just shakes her head. Laughs. Tells me to grow up. Tells me to get a hold of myself. Well, so much for getting a hold of myself. I let myself go in one violent release.

“Okay, the short end of it. I lost it. I lost it in a way the Stefano taught me. I told your mother bluntly how I felt about her parenting or lack of, of Logan. I told her my dislike of her as a person has grown to hatred.” I wipe my eyes as it all plays out in front of my eyes. I want to get up and move to the window because that always has given me comfort, but I can’t move. “God, Tink. I told her I hated her and that she wasn’t welcomed home anymore, that I was going to do this all alone, because it would be so much easier than her random interferences.”

The tears flow freely and I cover my eyes with my left hand as I choke out the rest, “I told her that I was finished. That she need not ever come home because Logan and I won’t be here to welcome her anymore. God Tink, I was miserably cruel. I said the cruelest things. I used everything I knew about her weaknesses against her and screamed and was so cold and god, you don’t want to know what my office looks like.”

She is crying with me. I think she had herself prepared for talk of divorce or maybe just a separation, but this… I can’t imagine what it is like to know that your father has a monster that was created in him that can unleash itself at times. Whatever happens now is my fault because of the way I handled myself and the situation.

“I’m so sorry Belle… I really am. She just wouldn’t stop pushing. She just wouldn’t stop thinking about herself and her opinion of life at home for just a minute to understand. I threatened to take away her son. How could I? I had a lot of rights to be pissed, but no right for that.”

“Daddy… daddy!” She gets my attention and I blink to be able to focus in on my desk again, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That you would take Logan and leave?”

I cannot tell if she is asking to make a point or if she is truly curious. My stomach turns. “I would never… and I mean never take away her child. I was just so pissed that she wouldn’t understand that it isn’t as easy as she thinks. She wants a new school, they don’t just appear. She wants him in swimming lessons immediately, but that hour just doesn’t open in the weekly schedule. She pushed and I broke and it is almost like that is what she wanted. To prove that I still have that monster inside me. Prove I am a bad father.”

“Okay, now you are going to far there. A bad father? I won’t even justify that foolishness. Listen to us, wipe your eyes, blow your nose and I’ll do the same. Then sign those papers that I am sure are sitting on your desk, go pick up Logan and meet Claire and I at the wooden park. We all need a chill out and there aren’t too many park days left before the weather turns unbearable.”

“Will you talk to your mother?”

I hear her sigh. I shouldn’t have asked and I say that to her. “We don’t talk too much these days dad. Our chats had slowed as it was, but after she missed Claire’s birthday but made the twins baby shower, I kind of lost my temper too. She probably thinks we have ganged up on her. She talks to Sami, I’ll see if she talked to Sami today. We’ll figure this out daddy and fix this. Whatever the solution, we will work this out.”

“For some reason Marlena and I have never managed young children and a relationship together very well. We made such a mess of yours and Brady’s childhood and a worse one of Sami and Eric’s. You would think we would learn and take pity on the child population of the world.”

“Would you rather not have Logan?”

“Never…” And that is true. He’s my guy. I would have left Marlena to her career years ago if it hadn’t been for Logan. He reminds me of our love in a way that Belle and Brady just can’t anymore. “I just wish Doc could see it too.”

“Huh?”

Belle’s question jerks me awake, as I realized that I spoke the last part aloud. “Sorry sweetheart, speaking aloud again.”

“Sign the papers, get Logan and be there by four. Don’t make me come get you.”

“Fine, but your turn to bring the hot chocolate.”

“You betcha. I love you daddy.”

“I love you too Tink.”

As I let the phone fall unceremoniously to the desk, I immediately pick up my pen to start initialing in random places. By the fifth document, I look up towards my window and my gaze catches on the photo on my desk. All of us. I look back down and move through more pieces of papers. Fabric orders. Merchandise plans. Advertisement ideas. Why do I care? I pay people to make the right decisions on these types of things. But with that being said, I have a document wanting fifty grand for a photo shoot that can be done here in Salem for five.

As my pen finished sliding across the page to show my dissatisfaction with it, my door flies open. I look up quickly, but see nobody in sight. I know my eyebrows just ‘knitted together’ as Sami says, in confusion and I move towards the door. I step out into the hallway but see nobody in sight. It’s a building without a wind tunnel and as I open my mouth to yell out, I hear a little sound. Its not a giggle but rather a proud snort.

Speaking loudly enough, I put my hands on my hips. “Well, I wonder who could have opened my door? Must have opened all by itself. Or maybe a flock of birds did it and flew away out the window before I could see them.” That did it, I got a giggle. “Yes, yes must have been a big flock of bluebirds that knocked it open. Guess I will just go back to work and lock my door so those bluebirds can’t get in again.”

“No daddy! It weren’t bluebirds!” Weren’t… that’s my new favourite incorrect word. I hear him, but still not exactly sure where he is hiding.

“Excuse me? Who is talking? Is that a bluebird? Hello bluebird.” I begin to move around the open area to figure out where he is hiding. “I didn’t know that I had a bluebird for a son.”

“I am not a bluebirdy daddy!”

I spot his jacket behind the chair and I move slowly over to his spot. “I hear that bluebird again calling me daddy. But I don’t see the bluebird flying and birds love to fly.” I lift up my hand and let it down hard on the wall, making an echoing smack.

He jumps up and I bend to be eye to eye with him. “You scard-ed me daddy!”

“Did I?“ He nods. “Well I got you to fly didn’t I?“ He nods again. “You don’t look like a bluebird.”

“I am Logan! Not a bluebird!”

“Oh… my son Logan.” I lean over to pick him up, “Did you see all those bluebird open up my door?”

“I did!” His eyes get big as he points up to the ceiling, “They came into the building wif us daddy. I tried to stop ‘dem but they didn’t listen! I told ‘dem ‘dat it wasn’t polite not to listen and that is corner behavior, but they came into the elevator with us. Well some of them came in and the rest flew up the steps and when we got up here, they used all their might and pushed your door open wide!” He lets out a very loud breath and drops his shoulders like all the energy has been sucked out of him, “It was quite a sight.”

“And that was quite a story. So what are you doing here buddy?”

“Not happy to see me?”

“I am very happy to see you!” I kiss his forehead and let him down. “Who picked you up?”

His finger points down the hallway, “She did.”

I chuckle at his totally casual tone for his sister. Hands go to my hips again, “So you didn’t trust me?”

“No, of course not daddy. I thought that you might need a smile a little sooner and we could all go get Claire together, make a little outing out of it.” She walks over immediately into my arms. I squeeze her tightly and close my eyes, breathing her in. Breathing in her love. “Everything will be okay daddy. It always is.”

“Sooner or later.”

I sniff back my emotion and let her go. I smile at her. She is so much like her mother in so many ways. She keeps me sane and as whole as possible. Just like Doc did all those years. Doc has… when did she stop?

I sigh and move back towards the office. “Well thank you Tink.”

Logan pulls at my hand, “Daddy, Belle said that you were kind of sad and needed an afternoon out with your musketeers. So I brought you ‘dis. I made it during art time. We were suppose to draw a fruit, but I don’t like fruit. Most fruits are circle shapes anyways and we had made circles during math. I made this.”

I look at the drawing and try to decipher. “Well, very interesting choices here.” There is a dragon and a fighter. “I like the red eyes of the dragon.”

“Yeah! He is breathing fire on the village, right there.” He breaths out a big breath of air and begins to stomp around like Godzilla, “And the dragon is so big it steps on the houses that aren’t on fire. The bad dragon even put fire on the bridge so the soldier couldn’t get across. He had to use his ship, see it there? With his lasers and boom boom boom fft fft fft…” The sound effects begin.

I grab him and kiss his thick black hair. “This picture surely cheers me up. Thank you buddy. I’m going to hang it on my wall right now. Which wall?”

“’dat one!”

I move to my desk to grab some tape and I come face to face with that picture again.

Marlena and I sit grinning, with a barely year old Logan on her lap. His hand rests on her cheek, Marlena is more laughing than grinning I guess. We all are. Claire stands curled up on my side, Belle is behind her mother with Sami, followed by Eric, Carrie and then Brady. Eric has Sami in an almost headlock from their youth, Belle watches them seemingly happy its not her hair getting messed with, as Brady flicks at my ear to make me flinch. And Carrie, her belly slightly rounded.

So happy. It was our last time, because then we began to fall apart. Piece by piece. Months later began the fighting. Months later brought on Eric’s transfer overseas, Brady’s investigation. Months later brought Carrie’s miscarriage.

But now its years later. Time to put Humpy Dumpy back together again.

I look up at the sound.

Or at least the logic puzzle that is now on the floor in billions of pieces.

“Oops.”
Page 8 of 8Missing Chapter…

The car slams into park and I nearly trip over my own leg, as I hurry out the door. My foot hits the pavement, my cell slips from my ear, and I quickly attempt to catch it before it hit’s the ground. I must be quite a sight. My cell between my legs, me yelling at it to hold on, and just as I get myself adjusted again, I realize that my car is still running. I can’t even swear. I am so unfocused and time is running by so very slowly and speeding by all at the same time that I cannot think. I move to grab my keys but when they won’t come out and the cell hits my seat, I give up.

Picking up the phone, “Abe, I would appreciate it if you would just give a call to the airport and perhaps ask a cop or two on patrol to keep a look out, like at the coffee shop or the diners because Logan will be hungry soon. Please, just ask some to keep their eyes open for me.” I stare at my reflection in the window. Have I aged? I look like shit. Amazing how a little stress can transform your appearance. “I know, I know partner. She is his mother. She is allowed to take him anywhere at anytime. I… I know. And I’m freaking out for nothing, but just see this from my perspective for a second. We had a huge fight. I said I was going to take Logan from her and suddenly, she picks him up from school out of the blue, with no word and won’t answer her cell. I’d just like to find them. Yes, I’m home. I’m breathing. Please just cut me some slack, Abe and do this favour for me.”

I nod my final acknowledgement and hang up the phone. I lean forward and allow my palms to rest against the cool surface of the truck. Now what?

If I hit the car will I feel better?

I tap the car, flip my cell back open and walk up the sidewalk. Ring, ring, ring. It is echoing through my head. I reach for my keys and let out a grunt as my eyes turn back towards the car. Listening to her professionally polite voice message, I move to the right of the door and run my hand up its side until I feel the wood give and the key slide between my fingers. Pushing it into the lock, I begin to twist it, “Marlena… Doc please just…” I take a deep breath and realize the frustration out on the key, “Just call me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I did, lets talk about this. Just, please let me know what’s happening.”

Another breath in and back out. I turn the nob and grunt again as it won’t open.

Fuck this key. Fuck this door. And fuck her.

I am mid-motion of hitting the door, when I jump a mile hearing, “It wouldn’t open for me either.”

I instinctively look towards my left to see her sitting in the rocking chair. “Fuck…” slides from my lips as I, again, try to get my center. “You’ve been there the whole – “ Well that is a stupid thing to say, so I readjust it. “Of course you were, how… how did I miss you.”

It was meant more rhetorical than anything else, but in true Marlena Evans Black fashion, she answers. “You seemed a bit preoccupied.”

“Where’s Logan?”

“In the back playing with Riley and Benjamin. I couldn’t get the door open, really need to replace that lock and for some reason, my garage door opener isn’t working so couldn’t get in that way.”

“Yeah replaced that.” Forgot about that actually. “He’s in the back, you said?”

She simply nods. I guess she is at least understanding enough that I need to see that for myself. I move quickly off our porch and up the rest of the driveway. I hear him before I see him. He and Riley are chasing Benjamin with their laser-blasters. I want to yell out, but no use in bothering him or letting him know that something is up.

I have never been so happy to see my boy running up the slide in a fashion asking for a major head injury. As I round the front of the house, Marlena is still sitting exactly where I left her with her chin cradled in her hands.

What to say?

“Why are you sitting up here, not back there?”

Her eyes flash fire, but then smolder over as she must realize that I didn’t actually mean it in a harsh way, “Wanted to… catch you I guess when you first arrived. I didn’t want you running in the back and having Logan question things.” I open my mouth to respond, but a hand in the air stops me, “I know, I could have called or answered the cell for one of your many calls. I didn’t say I wanted to catch you, figured I should force it by being out in the open and then neither of us would have any choice in the matter. But then you didn’t even see me.”

Her laugh is more of a snort and I move to join her on the porch. “What to say?” I get her attention at that. “I could pick a fight and force a screaming match or we could just stare at each other or go make dinner like this is just another average day. What the hell do you say when your wife kidnaps your kid?”

“Our kid and what do you say when your husband threatens to kidnap your son?”

“Touché.”

And we are at a stand still. Zero Zero.

“Well,” Be polite. I take a deep breath in and look towards the door, “I am glad you both are here, at the very least.”

“I know.” She nods and I wait to see if she will continue, but she doesn’t.

“Wasn’t sure where to go next. I had been calling around the entire way here, looking out at all of the playgrounds and coffee shops to see if you might be out downtown and have Abe’s guys keeping an eye out on their shifts. Speaking of which, I should call him and let him know. Called the airport security, which by the way, wasn’t all that much fun.”

“But we’re right here. Have been. I know that must not have been fun for you and I am sorry for that. I know that fear and I should never have caused it to you.”

I know. I know.

I nod, but keep rather focused on the door in front of me. “Wasn’t much fun. Poor Ms. Suzanne. We are not the afternoon coffee talk for her and the other teachers. I can already hear them trying to decide what all was going on and why you came and why I came early and then darted out like my ass was on fire.” I hadn’t realized just how tired this all has made me. I feel like I have been hit by a train and need to collapse. I wonder what she would do, if I just let my knees buckle and fall to the floor. At that thought a chuckle leaves my lips and I look down expectantly at the hard wood of the porch. Not actually the best place to allow my old bones crumble to.

“What is so interesting, John?”

Startled, I look quickly at her and then back down, “Oh nothing. Just lost in a replay of this afternoon. Still trying to grasp it all.”

“Yeah, I know. Ever since our… conversation on Monday, I haven’t been able to focus too well. My mind kept thinking over the things we said and what it all meant and I just didn’t know what else to do.”

This is the most tense, awkward, and downright fake conversation that we have ever had. I feel like I am in an old movie where two character whom hate each other desperately are forced to mingle together at a party. They mince words. They chat about their lives and make a silent agreement to ignore the other’s tone and all the underlined jabs slid under the comments. Life, family, past relationships, their breakup, work and then finally something is said and those characters erupt. Each word is an added degree in the volcano. Wonder how many more degrees I have left in me.

“So you decided to fly home unexpectedly to grab Logan from school and what? See how well that went over?”

“Yeah, I know doesn’t sound very rationale or very much like me.” She is sitting there, playing with her hands, trying to explain something to me. “I got up this morning and my conference was canceled and I knew having all that extra time to think wasn’t going to turn out well. But I got on the plane and just drove, and ended up at his school. And I wanted to spend time with him.”

I know. I know. I know.

“So you got him out early and brought him home to play and then what?”

“Well, I was able not to think about the ‘then what’ for most of the day. I wanted to spend time with Logan, not worrying about what you would do when you found out. Then it was one and Logan said that’s when you were going to pick him up, so I… well I guess I started to panic. Riley came over and I knew I needed to figure things out so I came out here and waited.”

“Do I need to point out how pathetic a lot of that sounds Marlena?” I try to keep my voice even, but how pathetic of an explanation can a person hand out after nearly giving me a heart-attack?

“I know…”

“A simple phone call was all that was needed.”

“I know…”

“John, I’m home and getting Logan. Could have left it with Nina for christ-sake. So that I would know, might not have been happy and therefore, the Nina way would have been simple and no confrontation and I would have known.”

“I know…”

“Anytime you were out back with Logan you could have given my cell a jingle.”

“I know…”

“You knew I was getting him out early. You knew, cause you said so yourself, that you knew I was heading to pick him up and so came out here to think and ponder life, all the while I am walking into the Little Red School House preparing to pick up my son and go play a final round of golf. You knew this and sat here and let it happen.”

“I know John…”

“My heart dropped as Ms. Suzanne said he wasn’t there. My heart stopped Marlena when she said you had him. Stopped, why? Because I remember our last conversation and if you listened to any of the god-damn four-hundred messages I left in the last hour, you would also know that I was sorry for saying what I did. But I said it and I know that I said I would take Logan away, when I never truly would, but I know what I said and I can’t take it back. But walking in there, knowing what I said and hearing that you took him. With no phone call. When you weren’t suppose to be home for another week. When I…”

“John! I know… I honestly know and I’m…”

“Fuck what you know!” My fist comes in contact with the side of the door. It doesn’t budge and for some reason I feel the need to hit it again, before slamming both palms onto it. “What don’t you know Marlena? Did you know that I have never been so fuckin’ scared in my life? Did you know that I honestly and truly thought the worst? At first, I thought somebody, somebody I didn’t know and love kidnapped him. At first, I thought he fell and was in the hospital and nobody was able to get a hold of me. At first, I thought he was dead. But no… no. Instead, it was just the fifty-some old busy-body teacher looking at me with pity as to why I didn’t know my wife had come to pick up our son already. And I should have been okay with that. I should have taken a deep breath, apologized for the confusion, thanked her for the damn lunch box that you left in the hall, and went golfing. But I didn’t. Did you know that? Do you know what went through my head instead, do you know what I thought then Marlena? Why don’t you take a guess?”

It is then that I actually look at her fully. I think it is the first time I have looked at her since arriving home, but I am shocked by what I see. More precisely, I am shocked by what I don’t see. No tears. No overly noticeable hurt or pain, just some confusion and anger. “John, keep your voice down, we’re outside.”

“What the hell does it matter? You hate these people anyways, isn’t that what you said? So what does it matter if they hear me. Tell me, since you know it all. Know all of my thoughts and fears and emotions. Tell me, what went through my mind when I heard that you picked up our son. Tell me.”

“John…” She stops and stutters. The great doctor doesn’t know how to approach this patient. She heals the world, but I have always been that one case that every so often goes off and becomes too unpredictable. Now I see some sadness in her eyes, as she shakes her head, “I don’t know.” But after that simple statement, she hardens again, “Why don’t you tell me.”

“Did you stop to wonder what I might think when I got there?”

“Don’t change the topic. You asked me a question and I answered it. So now its your turn to answer mine.”

“Well, I’m not the great Dr. Marlena Evans. I am just her sometimes husband so I am not good with this all-knowing – -” I am cut off.

“John, stop acting like a child. I would like to know what you thought.”

The volcano may have already begun to erupt, but the previous release did nothing to cool me down. I step towards her, completely invading her personal space, “That you kidnapped our son. Took him, got a plane, and were gone.”

She doesn’t blink. Hell, there isn’t even a cripple of acknowledgement in her cheeks. “John, I already knew that.”

“Really…” Fuck lava. My voice is now dripping acid, as I lean closer, “Never would have dreamed of thinking that completely cowardly action about the woman I married. Guess you really aren’t her.” I know I hissed that last part in her face.

“Daddy! Daddy… dad… look! Riley has the coolest light-saber ever it turns colours and…”

Logan’s excited voice continues to invade my brain. I close my eyes tight and take in a calming breath. All my training, all the control I have ever had over my emotions comes into play right now, as I quickly shut off and turn on an automatic smile and turn towards my son.

“Come here Mr. Man.” I open up my arms and he comes running into them.

“Did you hear me about the light-saber?”

“Yes, I did.”

His eyes go wide, no more need for a fake smile. The life that sparkles from him calms me, “So….? Can I get one too?”

“We’ll talk about it on our next toy day. You’ve got a few more practices to go before your next one.”

“Three more.” He turns to Riley and states rather matter-of-factly, “I’ll practice violin tonight and then I’ll only have two more. And Saturday is violin practice so then I just need one more. Dad, can I practice twice tonight?” He is good. But all it takes is a look from me before he answers it himself. He sighs and shrugs his shoulders at Riley, “Worth a shot.” Now where did he hear that phrase? Amazing the common, yet funny, phrases that he is picking up on now that he is at school. “Dad, Riley, Ben and I were playing in the back, and we now know what is in the tree of forbidden darkness!”

“No way, you went near the tree of forbidden darkness?” They both nod and I grab Logan by the arm suddenly and spin him around, examining each inch of him. As he giggles, I reach out and balance myself for the extra weight, as I pull Riley in, “But I don’t see any marks or bites and you still have all your limbs. Yeah, two legs, two arms,” As I count off their body parts, I tickle them fiercely and allow them to squirm openingly, “Oh oh… but I do see some strange behavior…” They continue to yell my name and get out from my grasp, but I hold them tightly, “No no! You can’t go. The tree of forbidden darkness has gotten into your minds and melted some of your moral codes and now you are going crazy. Look, you can’t get control of your laughter. You are laughing for no reason. Stop boys stop. Don’t let the tree of forbidden darkness win!”

My insane ramble comes to an end as we all topple over onto the hard floor.

They attempt to catch their breaths, “No no Mr. Black. We didn’t let it get us! Honest! But we saw it. Saw it, honest!”

“Serious honest! We did. It has two heads!”

“But six eyes!’

“And a tail! I ’fink it might have had spikes.”

“But I didn’t see spikes, Mr. Black.”

I continue to move my eyes from one to the other as they continue to describe the imaginary creature to me. Once they got to the pocka-dots on only a square portion of his belly, I open my mouth to stop them, but am saved by Bill, Riley’s father. He wants the boys and asks permission to keep Logan for a little while.

“Sounds good Bill. Send him back over whenever. Oh! He is probably hungry, so maybe I should grab him a sandwich first.”

“Nah, Riley and Ben will be getting hungry. You know how much Lynn loves to feed Logan. She gets a kick out of it. I’ll return him before bedtime.”

I give my thanks and watch Bill slide his hands in his pockets and begin to walk away. He always does that, it’s a constant habit and I have never seen a man with that habit before. At first I thought it was a sign that he is more… well shy or a recluse but I have found that to be untrue. Perhaps a little gay in the inside.

Time to finish what was started, but if beginning the conversation was awkwardly painful the first time around, this time will probably result in bled spilled.

I turn to Marlena, but she walks past me and down the steps.

“Where are you going?”

Her about-face is fast and sharp. The boys presence did nothing to tame her anger. “Well first I thought I would turn your damn car off. After that, use your garage door opener to get us into the house and then I thought I would sit on the couch and allow you to bitch your heart out a bit more. After that… I’m not suppose to know anything anymore it seems so I’ll just say we’ll take it from there.”

There are definitely times I want to slap her. I’m sure she feels the same pretty often. But right now, I think I deserve to much more than she ever will.

I follow her into the garage and up through the side door.

I feel my body pause in mid-step. Wonder if this is what its like to walk to the firing squad.
Page 2 of 2I toe out of my shoes and walk directly to the frig to grab a water bottle. I down half of the bottle before turning to see where she went. I scan the area and find her sitting down on the couch. Waiting. Can she seriously be this calm?

Should I just yell? Get the ball rolling. Instead I rub my face and tell the truth. “I was on a roll out there, momentum going and you were about to hear every single thing I want to say to you. And now I don’t know how to get it back.”

She looks up at me, “I am sure I’ll say something to get you rolling again”

“Well, that is a start.” I step down the two steps and lean back against the railing and look over the loveseat in front of me to stare directly at her. “We are not in a good place Marlena.”

“I know.”

“Stop that!” It comes out so fast and furiously that I didn’t even have time to realize that I was going to say it. “You are a pathetically bad record right now, do you know that? I’m just trying to figure out what you do honestly know, because all I have been hearing for months now is that you know. You know that you aren’t home. You know that it hurts Logan and I. You know that we are having problems because of it. You know that my life is rather hard right now. You know that I put Logan in a school you didn’t approve of. You know Logan is taking violin and playing soccer and T-ball.” I take in a breath, but I make it short so that she cannot interrupt me. “Now, do you know that you have yet to hear Logan play that violin you so desperately wanted him to play? Did you know that Logan scored two goals last Saturday and told the other’s team coach that his mom would be so proud of him when she hears? Do you know that I have spent two years convincing myself that I don’t want a divorce because that’s the coward’s way out?” Now that got a reaction. “Wow, something the great Doc doesn’t know.”

“John, stop with the low insults. That’s beneath you.”

“How the hell do you know what is or is not beneath me?”

“Cause I know you John.”

“Since when? You haven’t known me since Logan was born, since before that. You lost your memory and still haven’t found the time to get to know me Marlena. And sadly, I don’t think I know you very well anymore either. Because my wife would never have done the shit you have put me and our son through these last few years. My wife would never have pulled a stupid stunt like today, no matter how unfocused or upset she may have been. My wife wouldn’t abandon everybody she loves for her frivolous job that isn’t at all rewarding.”

Now I got her. She literally bounces to her feet, ready to defend her precious job.

“How dare you call what I do frivolous, as if it has no purpose, doesn’t help anybody. I am making a difference. Finally doing what I have always wanted to and I am sorry if that is making you feel neglected. I am sorry if for twenty-five years, hell my whole life I have put family, you, and friends first and now I am out doing what I want. I had put my goals on hold and I was tired. I wanted to make a difference. And I am.”

“No Marlena, you are one step away from a freak show. You are running so fast to catch up and be the next Dr. Phil that it is sickening. Its laughable. Do you even watch yourself? Listen to what people are saying about you?”

“They love me and you are just god-damn jealous! I work very hard and I am helping people-”

“One problem at a time.” I roll my eyes. “Very catchy slogan. Will look very nice on the sides of busses. You may have started out wanting to help people, but now its the celebrity, its the power. Its a fuckin’ joke. You created an empowerment program for helpless woman and I commended that, so I hope you never have thought otherwise. What you went through with Alex fuckin’ North, you needed that support, support that I couldn’t give you. And then being able to not only face your problems, but help others was amazing to watch. I was so inspired by you. But now, you don’t even help people Marlena. And please, don’t try to defend yourself there because it will fall on deaf ears. You preach now, you don’t help. It was one thing to need you here but have you off saving the world, but its another to need a wife and Logan’s mom and hell, my friend here and know you are off preaching some bullshit out of your ass and collecting fame and fortune for it.”

“So let me… me try get this straight, you think I am a joke. It is not so much about my absence from the home, but the humiliation that I bring to your life. Is that it John?”

For a psychiatrist, she is damn ignorant. My hand runs through my hair as I look over at the shelf to see the pictures of the once happy family. I smile bittersweetly, “I have never been humiliated by you. Ever Doc. I love you and admire you and am impressed by you daily. But what this part of your career has turned into, yes I do feel its a joke. And I do feel it reflects badly on you… well perhaps not on you, but on your history as a brilliant psychiatrist. What you are doing now, what you did this past week isn’t you. This isn’t your talents, this isn’t what you have worked and fought so hard for over the years. I remember every story you have ever told me about how hard it was for you in the beginning. Fighting all the male doctors. Being looked at as a beautiful woman, but never as a doctor. You fought hard and you made a name for yourself and now, I am sorry if you don’t think so or it hurts you, but you are making a mockery out of it. And I don’t know what part of it has you all wrapped up, but I can’t deal with this version of Marlena Evans Black. I just can’t. You don’t need us, but we still need you and perhaps that is selfish but shit Marlena, that is what you signed on for. Its what we both signed on for.”

“I never left! You have pushed me out. Its all you ever seem to do anymore is alienate me further. Half the time I feel like you purposely try to make me feel insignificant or as if I have no place here anymore. You are all powerful and all knowing daddy John Black and mommy is too stupid and incompetent to handle even the slightest concerns. You seem to forget John that I raised my share of toddlers in the past, with and without you. You spend so much time pointing out that I was missing for Belle’s childhood, but when I was home I not only had her but Brady as well, while you ran around with your wife.”

She takes a step forward and it seems that the battle has begun.

“Are we really going to go that far back in our history to find blame for our problems right now?”

“No! I just want you to realize that you don’t give me a chance anymore. You just like to blame me. You do it all and I am useless.”

“Well, you are Marlena! How are you not?” I push off from the railings and move around the love seat to face her head on. “Explain to me when you are not useless to this household?”

“Every day that I am home! Its not my fault if you won’t let me help!”

“Oh now I see, you can’t deny that you are useless, but you want to make sure that I am to blame for your lack of concern and effort at home.”

“You are to blame John! I come home to help, but suddenly I can’t pour juice right or pick up Logan correctly or handle bringing him to and from school…”

“You were late Marlena! I asked you to pick him up and you were late and did you apologize to the teachers? No, you explained to them how you don’t care for their school.”

“I did not! Talk about dramatizing a situation. She asked me if he would be returning there and I politely said that I was not sure, we were considering options.”

I cross my arms and stare directly at her, “And yet I knew nothing about these options to consider.”

“There is a difference John between not knowing and refusing to listen.”

“So I don’t listen.”

“Sometimes, no you don’t. Because you have been so keen on playing the victim, poor John who has to do everything all by himself. You think my job has gone to my head? Well, I can say the same for you. You run around town whining and plaguing me for the big bad bitch who doesn’t care. I care more than you know and I hurt being away, but that doesn’t matter because you have made me the evil one. And can I ever get a word in edge-wise with our friends so they can have both perspectives? Oh hell no, you don’t allow that. You have closed me off and pushed me away with such force, I don’t know how to get back in.”

I turn and point, “See that door? Walk through it a little more often than you do and that would be a start.”

“Well, why the hell should I? Whenever I am here all we do is fight.”

“Oh that’s a good reason to stay away even more. Is that what you tell your patients? When the getting gets tough, just stay away. Cause that has really solved a hell of a lot for us these past three years. News flash, it gets worse and we seem to hate each other a lot more.”

“When did you become so downright demeaning and sarcastic? News flash? Got anything else to treat me like a second class citizen in my own home? I sit in the wrong chair, I park on the wrong side of the garage, I put the cereal on the wrong shelf, I use the wrong glasses, and hell, lets talk about everytime I come home something is changed. We have a new TV and I am left with no ability to turn it on, much less play a DVD. We get a new oven, I am not told and again, no directions for mom. And now we have a new garage opener but did you ever once think about letting me know? I may be gone a lot and I can’t argue that, but God John, you don’t make me want to come home either. At least at a hotel I can open my own god-damn door, unlike my house!”

“You hate this house anyways!”

“What does that matter? And I only hate this house because that damn realtor flirted her way from room to room with you and you signed without ever having a real conversation with me. I hate this place because I never got a say. I went to a conference, came home and suddenly I had a home. We were to do this together and instead, you declared yourself all-powerful and signed to give that chick a cheap thrill.”

“You are jealous of a woman I bought our house from nearly five years ago?”

“Yes! And a whole lot more because when I tried to bring it up then, you pushed me away. And then I was gone and it was never the right time and why force an argument over something so petty? But I still hate this house. I still hate that this place represents yet another so called home that I had no choice in. The fresh start didn’t begin so fresh.”

“And so began all of our problems? Its all because I bought a house.”

She looks like she might throw something at me, had something been near. Instead she puts her hands up in the air and lets out a frustrated scream, “Of course not! Its one thing of many. One thing that is still festering that I use to help keep the anger up, the frustration up so that I don’t have to feel all this pain. Cause I am so damn tired of feeling pain and I refuse to do that anymore.”

“So instead, what Marlena? You pass it on. Its my turn, not like I haven’t felt my share of pain and frustration too. And just for the record, I have realized that it is difficult when you are home and that I make it seem like everything you do is wrong. And I have tried to explain that to you and work on that, but if you aren’t here, how can we? I cannot update you on every little detail of every detail, no matter how much I want to. You have to be here to see it happen and develop yourself.”

She steps towards me, “I was here. I was here more often than you seem to remember and you kept pushing. One minute it was fine that I had a career now that took me away from time to time and the next minute it was like I was the wicked witch for ever even considering it. I tried to talk to you and you would tell me to keep my god-damn shrinking skills to myself. That is who I am John. And I am sorry if your wife would ask the same type of questions that I, as a shrink, would. Sometimes that happens, but instead you would brush it off, or bitch a little and move on. Nothing was ever solved, I was shown the door again, just to begin it all over when I returned. And whether you care to admit it or not, over this past year you have made it impossible to come home or call home. You want me to call, yet get all pissy at me for interrupting something or wanting to talk to Logan at that particular moment. So I would make the suggestion that you should call me when you have a moment and again, I am to blame because how dare I dictate your life? I could never win. And I am sorry if that angers you but I can only take so much of that.”

I stare at her. Minus her few moments of anger and fierce attempts to protect and defend her career, I see nothing more. This is worse than talking to the wall. There is no emotion. No real pain. No real understanding of the situation. Or maybe she understands it, because I do have to admit that she made some valid points. I stopped making it easy. And I am nearly half to blame, but there is no way in hell I am admitting to that right now.

“You use to cry Marlena.”

“What does that mean?” I shrug and her eyes flash, “Don’t brush me off. You said it, so explain what you mean.”

“Its nothing.”

And now her expression is sarcastic, “Its always nothing. Nothing bothers you. Nothing phases you. Nothing is your fault. Always nothing. Everything on me and nothing on you. Its a game I am tired of losing, John.”

“A game? You think all of this is some fuckin’ game?”

“What is with your language?”

“I am not a child Marlena! I know you wish I was so you could treat me as one and lock me away some where. But no, doesn’t work that way for you. And yes, I said fuckin’ game. Its a word I like a lot lately because somebody has me rather pissed off. This is me, having emotions. You always wanted me to express them and here I am, expressing them.”

“Its useless if you don’t express true emotions and explain them. Right now all you are doing is bitching. Simple as that. Nothing is getting accomplished.”

“So what? You are going to leave? That didn’t take you too long.”

“Do you see me moving towards the door John? Do you see me moving at all? Didn’t think so.”

Frustration takes me over and I rub at my eyes hard, “What do you want Marlena?”

“Does it matter?” I open my mouth to retaliate, but she puts her hand up to stop me, “I want you to figure out what really is bothering you, so we can discuss it and try to work something out.”

“Try to work it out? That doesn’t sound very comforting. Do I have to figure it out with or without my emotions?”

“Depends, if this is you discussing it with emotions, than perhaps we should begin without.”

I stare at her with my mouth open. What kind of comment is that? She has spent twenty-eight years getting me to express my emotions and now, she wants me as cold and emotionless as she is.

“Well I do apologize, but I kind of like having my emotions and have waited a long time to express them to you. So I am sorry, but I do plan on continuing.”

Her arms cross and she doesn’t blink, “Okay. Go on.”

And that’s it. That is where she happily leaves it. Go on. Go on and what? Flip out? Wouldn’t she love that.

“I go back to my comment that you use to cry and… correction, you use to feel. This is what I feel. All in a nut shell.” I step closer to her, “I feel deeply hurt, offended, and abandoned by you. I feel constant anger, bitterness, frustration, and resentment.”

She has not blinked. Her arms have stayed tightly crossed against her chest and the stiffness in her arms is the only thing that makes me believe that she is at least present in this conversation. Her casual attitude about this all has unnerved me for months now. Her casual way of taking Logan today and not calling has infuriated me. Her causal response to my arrival on the porch filled me with bitterness. And now her casual acceptance of how I feel and how I am reacting to this all is forcing me to hate.

“Is that all you feel John?”

“That’s not enough?”

“Oh its enough, I just want to make sure you get the chance to express it all.”

“Express it all? You think I have now expressed it all?” My tone is mocking and her facial features shift into a glare, “I got to say a few emotions and now I have expressed enough for you. What Marlena? Are we done here then? All finished. All better. Are you going to pat me on the head and send me out to play too?”

“John, don’t be impertinent.”

“Impertinent? Tossing around the big shrink vocabulary, makes you feel all smart and superior? I think that is what I hate the most about all of this lately.”

“And what is that John?”

“That… that right there!” I am pointing at her, but her expression does not change, as if she has no idea what I could be referring to.

“What John? You haven’t had a problem expressing and explaining things so far, why stop?”

“Alright, I hate your attitude. I hate your tone. I hate the superior, nose up in the air personality that you have developed over the last four years. I hate that in over thirty years of being together, we have been through hell and back and you never once treated me like a broken man or a fool and now that we have finally gotten to a good place, a calm place in life with no Stefano Dimera, no past to hinder us, you have become a supreme bitch.” I see surprise in her eyes. For some reason, she did not see this coming. “Your distain for this town and your life here drips off of you when you walk, Marlena. Your friends, family, and even me… we feel like you are offended by having to be in our presence. We are sorry that we are no longer good enough for you Doc. I don’t know what more we can do to be equal with your greatness.”

“Do you honestly believe that of me John?”

I have never noticed just how often she says my name now. Has she always addressed me often when talking? Is it because the ‘honey,’ ‘sweetheart’ and other terms of endearment no longer cross our lips and that is why it seems to be constant?

“All I know is that when I first came to Salem and had no memory and stepped into Roman’s shoes, I was a shell of a man. You taught me. I wasn’t prim and proper. I didn’t know a salad fork from a dinner fork. I learned, yes. My life has changed in many ways and I have adapted. But never once, in all our years together, did I feel like you were ashamed of me. I always felt I wasn’t good enough for you, that I was beneath you in many ways. But you never made me feel that way, I did it to myself. And now, now that is all I feel from you. I hate going places with you, because the air you give off is that you are embarrassed by me. Especially if I attend one of your functions. And if you are at one of mine, its that nothing is good enough. The Baker’s Foundation, you put your nose so high up in the air even before we walked in the door I was afraid you were run into the wall. You use to be the belle of the ball, everybody fighting to sit at our table and now, they run as fast as they can because nobody wants to sit near John Black’s cold and vicious wife.” I shrug my shoulders and attempt to look her in the eyes, “I can’t blame’em.”

“Well then, it is nice to know what you really think of me.” And then she moves. She step forward to move around me, as if that is the end of it all. I grab her arm and say something to make her stop and she turns on me in a flash, “Let go of me.”

“Then don’t walk away.”

“So now you are just giving orders and I must obey?”

“That’s ridiculous. You asked me to tell you what I thought. All I want out of you is some… shit I don’t even know anymore! An opinion, some thoughts, a few emotions. All I am getting is small phrases, which to be honest, are just pissing me off.”

“Oh well I am sorry that I am pissing you off John. You calling me a bitch, a terrible mother and a horrid human being has made me feel just so peachy keen too.”

“There is a start.” Her eyebrow rises in confusion, “At least I now know you don’t like to be insulted.”

“Of course not.”

I stare at her. I watch as she shifts her weight and allows her arms to fold across her chest again. I stare and wait for her to say something more. I stare and hope. Then I give up, “That’s it? Of course not? No comment? “

“What is there to say, John? I have nothing left to say.”

“How in the hell do you have nothing left? You’ve said shit since I’ve arrived. I yell and you say nothing. I talk and you stand there. I insult the shit out of you and you don’t even blink. Are you not listening? Or just not giving a fuck?”

“Gosh John, do you really have to swear so much?”

What the fuck? Is there even a response for that? “Um, yes. Yes I do. You should try it out. Get some things off your chest before I blow a god-damn fuse. This is ridiculous!”

“Well, your display here is a little ridiculous, otherwise it all has been very enlightening.”

“So now what? You will go write a paper on it? Will you put in some of your own thoughts into it so I can maybe read it and see where you stand.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you want and I will see what I can do.”

“I have already told you!” That came out loud. Might get the neighbors in on this still. “I just want you to speak! To feel a little bit and to share what it is that you are feeling. At this fuckin’ point I don’t care what the hell the emotions or opinions are, just that you have one or two!”

“Well it seems to me that you have more to say than I do. I have nothing to say. So if you are done, may we mo-“

“Done? You think I am done?”

“You’re not?”

“Oh hell no! I was being polite and allowing you equal opportunity.”

“Well, how considerate of you.” She moves and I nearly lean to grab her again, but all she is doing is moving towards the love seat. She perches up on the arm of it and then gestures towards me, “Do please continue. What else do you have to say?”

I can feel the hard thumping of my pulse in my ears. I look down at my hands to see my fists clenched tightly and attempt to take a deep breath. But when I look back up at her passive express, I let go. “I say fuck you. I say fuck you for never being around. I say fuck you for making me play mom and dad to our five kids. I say fuck you for making me have to make the tough decisions on schools, toys, extra activities, friends, health, and eating habits. I say fuck you for making life harder than single parenthood because I still had to deal with you. Fuck you for being mad at my selfish behavior and for being left out. Fuck you for making me explain to Logan and even Claire why you are never able to come to their stuff and for making me feel bad that I don’t have every second of their lives on film to share with you and for making me befriend others so I have somebody to talk to that understands my kid. Fuck you for making me hate the night and having to get up to begin again in the morning. Fuck you for the motherless photos and the drawings of a mother with the wrong eye colour and for making me have to shop at the damn Gymboree and for having to deal with fevers and flues and stomach aches and puke all by myself. And even more than all of that combined, I say fuck you Marlena for no longer feeling and caring that all of this is happening, selfish or not. You don’t care and that is why I am okay saying it.”

Not a flinch, not a hair or eyelash out of place. She just rests there. So I stand and stare back. But then I can no longer stand and just stare.

I grab her shoulders before I even realize what I am doing and shake her, not very roughly at first, but as the pain, anger, and frustration rises within me, I lose control. “Feel something damnit! I can forgive and deal with anything you dish out, but this emotionless shell is just too much. Jesus Christ feel something Doc! Anything at all. And… and I hate you for not feeling this pain and, and…“ I am losing my steam and therefore losing a vocabulary. But as I close my eyes to see the darkness, it comes to me sadly, “hopelessness. I hate you for not feeling this hopelessness that I can’t seem to get away from. That I have to deal with daily all the while playing happy for our son.” I do believe I am crying and I choke out, “I hate you for making me feel like a fraud all the time.”

Her soft, “John, you’re hurting me” and her attempt to break free focuses me again. She has slid awkwardly onto the loveseat and as I let her go harshly, I see her hit the back cushion hard and bounce forward, losing her fight for balance and topple forward. My eyes are wet. I don’t think hers are, but there is a slight tremor in her voice as she attempts to put the pieces together. Pushing her hair out of her face, she straightens herself partially but makes no move to stand back up, “You really hate me don’t you?” I say nothing to her. I can’t even look at her at the moment and I am positive that she isn’t looking at me. At least I can’t feel her eyes on me. “Please… I need to know. Do you really hate me? Answer me that please and what you would like out of this.”

There is no bitterness in her tone this time around. Can’t say her voice is weak but it does quiver a bit and it is much softer than it has been. Almost like my Doc, the tone she gets when we use to fight and she knew she was at fault. I look at her over my shoulder, but still don’t really see her and just shake my head. “I’m sorry. I am. But yes. Yes, I do hate you right now. I can’t he- -” I was going to explain or say something more, but I have said and explained enough for now. “I feel it would be so much easier for you to decide what you feel and think. And… just tell me that you don’t love me anymore. That you don’t love this life anymore and need something more or something else. Then we can draw up divorce papers and get this all façade over with. Then this can all be a bad nightmare.”

I leave it at that. I mumble that I am going to go out back and check on Logan. And that is exactly what I do. I open the sliding door in the kitchen and move out onto our deck. I love this deck. It is something that I always missed when I moved out of our first house, Roman’s house. I missed having a grill and sitting out to eat in nice weather. I tried on the rooftop at the loft, but that was just too much like a cheap B movie, rather than a natural thing to do with a family. The Penthouse lacked that quality too. I felt that Marlena missed those family cook outs too and wanted to make sure that the deck was big enough to host some of the Brady-Horton events. Instead, Logan’s birthday parties are about the only things that get hosted out here.

I am not sure how long I stand here. Logan is across the yard playing on the swings. I know I should call him back in and get him ready to go to his game, but that can wait a little while longer. The weather has been such crap lately, that he needs every second outdoors that he can get. An honest answer would be that I am just not emotionally prepared to face my son yet. My cheeks won’t currently smile no matter how badly I would want them too.

A harsh sound causes me to turn towards the house. It returns, but I cannot figure out where it is coming from. Stepping closer to the house, I follow the faint noise back into the kitchen and over to the living room.

The harsh sound was a classic Marlena Evans painful sob. It has been so long since I have heard her cry for any reason, I am drawn into it and allow the emotions to wash over me. She has finally let go. All hunched over, legs pulled up to her chin and her face buried into her knees and though I cannot see her very well from this angle, the rhythm of her body makes it clear that she is shaking. Finally, emotion.

I am slow to react. I have no intentional want to run over to hug her and rock her like I once would have. Instead, I receive strength from her tears of anguish. It is something I have been needing to hear for a long time and I am afraid that the moment I make myself known, it will all end. I needed to know she was still a human being under that mask and this is proving that.

Moving slow, I step down and move over to the loveseat to kneel besides her. My hands move, but stop midair and then fall back down. I don’t even know if I should touch her. Marlena says something, but I focus too late to understand. “What?”

She lifts her head and I am physically surprised at what I see. Her makeup is smeared, eyes so bloodshot that the colour of her eyes is barely recognizable, and the pain in her express causes my stomach to turn. It has been a very long time since I have seen pain like this. Even her miscarriage did not overtake her in this manner. Not since she was controlled by Stefano and caused so much physical and emotional pain to all of her loved ones. Not since the murders.

My chin flicks up and my arms open as an invitation for her to lose herself. Her eyes meet mine, “Oh God…” is barely chocked out before she falls forward, her arms wrapping around my neck so tightly that I gag at the abrupt lack of oxygen. I swallow and adjust to take smaller breaths as I hold her close and begin to rock back and forth, attempting to keep our weight from toppling us over.

Her face buries in my neck and a chill goes down my spine. “I’m so sorry John.” I know she said that. Other words and phrases came before and after it, but they are all muffled between sobs, ragged breaths, and my neck.

“Shh, Marlena. Settle down. Remember to breath.”

“How… how can… can I fix this John? Its all… all so… so… so…” I fear that she will hyperventilate herself and I immediately stop rocking us to take her face in my hands and tell her to breath in and out slowly. Releasing another shaken breath, she continues, “Its all so broken because of me.” She strokes my cheek and I capture her fingers to kiss them softly. This is as intimate as we have been in months. We barely touch anymore. “How can I put it all back together? How… how can I get you to stop hating me? I… I… need you John. Always have. I can’t survive without- If you hate me- What can I-” Her unfinished and unanswered questions tumble from her mouth and within seconds she has worked herself back up into hyperventilating.

Stroking her cheeks with my hands, I take her head and bring it to mine. “Look at me Doc.” We are nose to nose, forehead to forehead, “Breathe. Look at me and breathe.”

We stay just like this, as her sobs and ragged breathing begins to slow down to uneven breaths and a few hiccups. Her eyes slip closed and she whispers out, “I could never stop loving you. Never.”

“Good.” I place a finger under her chin to lift her gaze back up to mine and repeat, “Good. That is the first step, to know you still love me.”

“I am so sorry John. I never meant for this to all happen.”

I smile sadly, “I never thought you did. I’ve just been waiting for you to realize that we need a change.”

“No!” Her eyes go wide, “I don’t want a divorce.”

“Good. Then we are on the same page.” Her fingers slide across her face, attempting to dry parts of it. I watch as those same fingers run along my jeans to be dried, “Thanks, always thought they needed a black spot or two.”

She smiles slightly at that, “Better yours than mine.” But then her eyes close again and she readjusts to lean her head back against the couch. “I am just so tired of these headaches.” I get nervous that perhaps I caused this with how roughly I handled her, but as I see her fingers begin to massage the bridge of her nose, I realize that her headaches much come as often and as forcibly as mine do and I comment as such. “I am so sorry that I made us do this to each other John. I… I didn’t realize. Honest. It may be hard to believe, but I was only seeing it all from my perspective and then everything you said sunk in and when you said you hated me, hated what I have become, it all hit me like a ton of bricks. You were walking out for good and everything I have and have not done flashed before me. It makes me nauseous.”

“Its made me nauseous a handful of times too. It passes.” Her lips twitch, but no real smile. This means that it really has sunk in and we really might have a chance here and the grin and the relief on my face must express that. I meet her questioning stare, “What?”

“What’s that grin about?”

“Its all about hope my dear. Hope for once.”

She reaches out for my hand and I gladly give it to her. She examines the top, before flipping it over to examine my palm and then begins to absently play with my fingers before whispering, “Where do we go from here? What do we do?”

“Well, our son needs to be called in, a uniform put on his body and then taken to his baseball game.”

She says nothing, but instead begins to stand. With her hands tightly around mine, I have little choice but to stand and follow. Once outside, she takes in a deep breath of the cool evening air and calls to Logan. His smile beams from yards away and barely acknowledges us as he comes running between us and towards his uniform to change. He’ll be screaming in a few minutes for help, but only a fool would offer help to an independent boy before the tears of frustration come.

“Marlena, are you coming to the game?”

We both turn to look at our neighbor. I wait to hear her answer, but more importantly the tone in her voice. What I get is a beautiful smile that reaches her blotched eyes, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

I lean over and with my thumb, attempt to remove a little bit of the mascara left. There is no way to hide that she has been crying, well that the both of us have been crying. But why bother? Bill knows full well what was going on in this house.

“Perfect.”

“My turn to drive, right?”

Bill nods but then shakes his head, “Forgot, Maggie is off tonight and was going to come. With Ben and Maggie and Marlena, we won’t all fit anywhere.”

I point at him for his quick thinking. “You are right pal. Guess we drive separately. You take the boys and I will bring them home?”

Marlena looks at me oddly, “Why when we are going to the same place at the same time?”

“Tradition sweetheart. Tradition.” I smile at her to ease the blow. “We drive together, hit the pizza place afterwards and then drive home.”

“Does Marlena know the rules?”

“Marlena won’t like the rules.”

She looks between us and Bill laughs, “Yeah, Maggie was not pleased either. Pizza for playing, ice cream for winning.”

“What?” Marlena’s eyes turn on me quickly, “Every game Logan eats pizza for dinner and ice cream when they win for dessert?” I nod and smile a cheesy ‘it’s a guy thing’ grin at her. Her hand lets go of mine and moves to her hip, “Well, guess its not like they win all that often at their age. What? Tell me.”

“Undefeated.”

“This one is all yours John.” Bill begins to walk back towards his house, “I’ll take the boys. Ship him over. Marlena, would you want a cushion? Know what, Maggie will just bring you one. The benches get hard and rather cold by the end. See ya in a bit.”

“Thanks Bill! He’ll be over in a moment.”

“John, pizza and ice cream? Twice a week?”

I shrug, “It just became the dad, son thing. A lot of the team joins us. Its fun for everybody and honestly, who would have thought we’d have a pro-baseball player?”

“Well, he is your son.”

“Well, he is also your son Doc.” I tap her nose as she wrinkles it in confusion. “I figured your lack of coordination and terrible sports ability with my incredible sports techniques would have just made him a normal ball player. But, guess I was mistaken.”

I move quickly as she processes what I have said. “John Black! Get your butt back here right now!”

“Can’t… gotta get his socks and shoes on him!”


~~~~~