by Shey Stahl
Callan’s idea of doing the dishes is washing one dish, drying it, putting it away and then starting on the next. It goes to show you how different our personalities are in that aspect. I usually always break at least one dish while I'm doing them.
I laugh when he reaches for a bowl.
He looks at me. “What?”
I nudge his shoulder with mine. “I love your thought process.”
He glances behind us when we hear a noise in the living room. It’s Noah, naked from his bath Madison must have given him. He’s also peeing on a plant next to the window.
“Should we tell Mom?”
“Nah. I think that plant likes urine because he’s been doing it for the last six months and it hasn’t died yet.”
Callan smiles, reaching for another plate.
We finish the dishes and Callan goes upstairs to get ready for bed. That’s when Madison finds me in the Kitchen. “Thanks for coming tonight. I know the boys enjoyed having you here.”
I nod and lean into the counter. “Have you talked to Callan about the other school?”
Madison shakes her head. “I didn’t, but I’ve given it a lot of thought and I don’t think we should put him in a different school. He’s already upset he’s different from the other kids his age. I just think uprooting him to a new school will make it harder on him.” She motions with a flick of her wrist between us. “All this is going to be hard enough.”
When my parents divorced, my mom and I moved to Phoenix where her sister lived. My dad moved to Vegas. I remember being so upset with both my parents for making me change schools during the middle of the year and not only that, forcing me to start a whole new life somewhere else because they couldn’t get their shit together.
I didn’t talk to my dad for two years after that.
I couldn’t let that happen to Callan and Noah. I wouldn’t.
I stand there and wait for Madison to look at me, devastation in both our eyes. “I want to be able to see them whenever I want. You can have the house, cars, whatever you want from me, but don’t take them away too.”
She nods. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Ridley.”
Wouldn’t she? I never thought she’d file for a divorce without coming and talking to me first, but she did that.
I give a tip of my head upstairs. “I’m gonna say goodnight to the boys.”
Noah’s already asleep. You can literally put him in bed and he’s asleep in two minutes. And if he doesn’t fall asleep right away, sing gangster rap.
Callan’s another story. He likes to read before bed so I know he’ll be up. Knocking lightly on his door, I enter quietly. “Hey, bud, I’m gonna head out. Just wanted to tuck you in.”
He smiles and sets his book aside when I sit on the edge of his bed. “I’ve been thinking….” And the look on his face tells me he has. “Since you won’t be around, will you take me to Ukraine? It'd make me feel better about all this.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. He’s playing me and you know what, I’m kinda proud he’s pulling this card out. I laugh. “Are you trying to bribe me?
He shrugs. “Maybe a little.”
I pull his blankets up. “How about this, how about I check into it?” I have checked into it a little. Remember? Gamma radiation and $1300 air fare.
He lies back on his bed. “Good enough for me.”
I glance at the book I got him for his birthday, the one he’s been reading. “What's with you and nuclear bombs?”
“You mean power plants? Because that's what Chernobyl was.”
“Yes, sorry.”
His eyes brighten. Probably because I’m taking interest. “It's not the power plant itself, it’s the fact that those power plants were originally made so they could enrich uranium to be used as fuel for a nuclear bomb.”
“So bombs fascinate you?”
“Yeah, they’re cool. You can level an entire city with one!”
I raise an eyebrow. “Should I be scared?”
“Well no.” He waves me off. “I’m not going to set one off, but I’d love to build one.”
Oh dear God. Really?
We laugh together and he grabs my left hand and sees I’m still wearing my ring. “I think you’re going to work it out.”
My brow pulls together, my stomach dipping. “Why do you say that?”
He sets my hand down. “Mommy cries a lot more. She misses you. We miss you.”
Tears sting my eyes, emotion surfacing for what I can’t change and desperately want to. “You know I love you, right? This doesn’t change anything between us and never will.”
His eyes move around his room and then land on mine. “I know. I love you, too, Dad.”
There’s one thing I can appreciate about my nuclear bomb obsessed seven-year-old. He may be into science and bombs and way smarter than me, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still seven and forgiveness comes easy for him. Life hasn’t taught him the harsh lessons of trust and betrayal. No one important in his life has lied to him or broken promises made only to diffuse a moment.
I wasn’t going to be the first. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t go back on this one. Whatever happened between Madison and me, it wouldn’t come between me and my boys.
Downstairs, Madison’s in the living room picking up toys off the floor and I can see what Callan’s referring to. She’s sad.
I clear my throat when I’m standing near the front door and she looks up. “I’m gonna head out.”
Her glassy eyes move around the room and then land on mine, uneasiness masking her features. There’s something else about her I can’t place, an emotion. “Okay.”
I study her thoughtfully for a moment, desperately wanting the uneasy look she carries to disappear.
I shouldn’t leave, should I? You’re thinking it, I know you are. In your head, or maybe out-loud, you’re screaming at me to walk over to her, apologize and carry her upstairs where I do something romantic.
And I want to, I do, but my pride holds me back.
Madison reaches up and tugs at her hair, letting down her ponytail. Her dark hair spills around her should as she stands, a firetruck in her other hand at her hip. “Thanks for spending time with them.”
My heart lurches thinking of everything Callan said upstairs. With a sigh, my shoulders hunch. “It’s no problem. I’ll come by tomorrow night and say goodnight to them, if that’s okay?”
She nods, breathing out even breaths. “You can come by anytime you want.”
Despite everything that happened between us, I’m thankful for this right here. Our ability to put our own differences aside and see what matters most. The kids and their wellbeing.
As I’m leaving, I sneak a glance over my shoulder at her, hating the sorrow lingering in her every feature.
For the next three weeks, I work.
Nonstop.
Isn’t that what Madison said drove her away?
Well this time, I work on our house, the new one and with Brantley’s help, we finish it. I still make sure to see the boys. I show up every night to tuck them into bed and read with Callan.
I can honestly say despite this being a really fucking shitty situation, it’s brought me closer to the boys.
I look around the house I’ve finally finished. Knowing they’ll be moving into it soon, without me, my chest constricts and my heart begins to pound. How could I have let this happen?
“This place is beautiful, man,” Brantley says beside me when the inspector leaves after the final walk through.
I lean into the kitchen island, my arms crossed over my chest and stare at the keys in front of me. “Thanks for your help with it. I owe you big time.”
“Yes, you do.” He chuckles and nods to the keys. “Are you giving them to her today?”
“Yeah, I signed the divorce papers and I need to give them to her. We’re approaching the sixty days here soon.” I shrug and put the keys in my pocket. “I guess I’ll just give them to her with the keys to the house.”
>
When I think about those divorce papers, and the finality they’ll soon have, I want to get away from everything. It may not be the most responsible time to leave, but I need to.
“Can you take care of things for a few days?” I ask Brantley.
He knows what I’m going through and nods. “Yeah, I got it.” And then he shakes his head, clasping his hand on my shoulder. “I’m really sorry things didn’t work out with you and Madison.”
“Yeah, me too.” And he has no idea just how badly I am sorry.
“Where are you going?”
I shrug. “Thinking about going to see my dad for a few days since we can’t start the Murphy project until next week.”
Brantley’s eyes light up remembering the last time we visited my dad in Vegas. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
IT’S A TUESDAY morning when I leave for my dad’s house in Nevada. I hate Tuesdays. I left the keys to the new house and the signed divorce papers on the counter in an envelope this morning. I wasn’t sure what she’d think when she got them and I didn’t leave a note. I was hoping she’d notice the keys and go look at the house but I wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d throw them away at this point.
Madison promised me I could have the boys this weekend, but the last place I want to take them is to my dad’s. Last time I took them there, Callan wanted to move to Vegas and Noah pretty much attached himself to my father like he was the greatest thing in the world.
Didn’t do a lot for my own ego, but this is Mike Cooper we’re talking about. Surely if they spent enough time around him, they’d see he’s not much but a sixty-two-year-old eternal bachelor, who in my opinion, should be in a nursing home.
Staring at the road ahead of me, I can’t help but think about how different my life will be. I’m the weekend dad. And forget about getting regular pussy. I don’t have time to go out and look for it. Not that I want it. I don’t want it. I want one pussy. Madison’s.
When I’m driving, I like to sing sometimes, and lately it seems country music is always on and every song fits my life as far as I’m concerned. Especially Blackhawk’s song “Goodbye Says it All.”
“Blackhawk didn't sing about your life,” Brantley says beside me, staring at his phone. “Will you stop it?”
Remember when I said no to him coming with me? He clearly didn’t listen to me, or I didn’t hold my ground. Either way, he’s coming with me.
“Yes, they did. Think about it.” I jab my finger at the radio. “This is my life. My wife left me.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t look over at me. “You're being dramatic.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Am I?”
He finally looks at me. “Yes!”
“Am not.” I’m sure you can imagine, but I’m pouting.
“Listen.” Brantley sets his phone down in the cup holder. “Nathalie said—”
“Shut up,” I interrupt him. “I hate her.”
“You hate everyone. Just listen….”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.” He smacks my shoulder and I jerk the wheel slightly at the impact. “You do.”
“No, I don’t,” I point out. “I could open the door and jump out.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Well then, make sure you tuck and roll better than Kennedy did.”
“I will.” And then I remember I’m driving and that really wouldn’t work very well. My luck I’d run over myself with my own truck.
I sigh dramatically after two minutes. I want to know what Nathalie said, damn it.
“What did she say?”
He sighs, too. “She said Madison’s crying all the time.”
I saw Madison yesterday when I stopped by to tuck the boys into bed. I try to recall her face and the expression on it. At the time I thought maybe she was frustrated I kept showing up every night, but it wasn’t that. It was one of sadness. And then I thought, okay, well, I’m sad, so she’s probably sad too. You don’t spend eight years of your life with someone and just stop caring. I knew that much.
“Did she say anything else?”
“That Madison is probably going to come talk to you about it.” He gives me a sincere look. “I don’t think she wants it to be over.”
His words make my stomach dip and my heart pound in my ears. Part of me is angry by what he’s saying because if she didn’t want it, why’d she file for divorce? Why was nothing I did good enough these last two months?
THE DRIVE TO my dad’s house in Boulder City takes us about five hours. He owns a hotel in Vegas. Not one of the nice casinos. Think like the Pink Flamingo with trashy women and disease-infested pools. That’s not really the case, but whatever. He has a big-ass mansion in the hills, and I intend on crashing it for a couple days to clear my head.
I’m assuming by now you know my father and I don’t have the greatest relationship. And your assessment would be spot on. Now, before you meet my father, his interpretation of our relationship and mine are completely different. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Only I’m not entirely sure who’s who because we change roles a lot.
Do you see the man who looks like he’s spent the last twenty years tanning every day? Not the woman with the leather skin beside him hacking up a lung, look to the left, around her, though their skin is fairly similar. He’s the one with a white button-down shirt with his thick chest hair sticking out. He’s also smoking a cigar and wearing board shorts. Classy huh?
That’s Mike Cooper. My father. Looks can be deceiving but in this case, what you’re thinking about him is probably pretty spot on. A man who’s spent too much time beside the pool might possibly have an STD and thinks highly of himself. If you’re thinking that, then you’d be correct.
Did you ever see the movie Weekend at Bernies? My dad is exactly like Bernie Lomax.
The woman beside him disappears inside the house and he smiles when Brantley and I make it to the door, my bag on my shoulder. “I’m glad you came. Why didn’t you bring Madison and the boys?”
“They’re at home. Callan has school.”
Brantley snorts beside me. “Uh, hello? What about me?”
“I saw you last month.”
I turn to look at Brantley. “You saw him last month?”
He shrugs, appearing guilty. “I was in town?”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, I’m glad you decided to come see your old man,” my dad says, attempting to change the subject. I’m really not surprised Brantley comes to see my dad. He’s like his hero and I’ll never understand why. Probably because they both think they’re Hugh Heffner. “It’s been too long since we’ve had guy time.”
His idea and my idea of “guy time” are completely different. Believe me.
When we’re inside, he grabs his gun from the safe. “Come on, boys. Let’s go hunt some pigs.”
See what I mean? We just got here after driving five hours, and he wants us to go hunt pigs.
“Who’s that woman?” I point to Leather Lady in the kitchen.
Dad shrugs. “My housekeeper.”
More like maid he fucks on the side. My dad has never ever been faithful to one woman. I think it’s impossible for him to remain monogamous.
Setting my bag inside, Brantley and I follow him out the door when he hands the both of us a rifle. I’ll never pull the trigger, but I won’t tell him that. “How’re the boys and Madison?”
“They’re good.” I get inside his truck and close the door while Brantley gets in the back. “Callan’s playing soccer and doing great in school. Noah runs around the house with a cape screaming he’s Wolverine. Typical shit.”
Did you notice I didn’t say anything about Madison?
My dad does too and quirks an eyebrow at me but lets it go.
“So what about you and what’s her name?” I say what’s her name because I honestly don’t know who his ex-wife was or is or if he has a new one or not. Hell, knowing him he might marry Leather Lady next week and I wouldn’t know about it
until he tells me they’re getting a divorce.
“Laura?”
I stare out the window. “Sure.”
“Well let’s see, she took about twenty-five thousand in the divorce and got my house in Palm Springs.”
“You have a house in Palm Springs?”
“Had. Past tense.” He pulls down a gravel road I’m sure we shouldn’t be on. Mostly because it said no trespassing, but my dad thinks those kind of rules don’t apply to him. I'm serious. Speed limits, traffic laws, property boundaries, he pays no mind to any of them ever. I doubt he even has a valid driver’s license anymore.
You’re surprised he owns a hotel and lives in a mansion, aren’t you?
Well when I say he doesn’t abide by certain rules, he’s incredibly business savvy, and I’m thankful I inherited that from him.
“Dad, it says no trespassing back there.”
He looks over his shoulder. “I didn’t see it.” And then he punches my shoulder. “I noticed you avoided my question about Madison. What’s going on?”
Brantley goes to say something in the backseat but I take the butt end of the rifle and smack him lightly in the head, hoping he shuts the fuck up.
Sighing, I stare out ahead of me at the barren desert “no trespassing” land. “She filed for divorce. For two months I tried to get her to fall back in love with me and get her to see it was a mistake, but she didn’t see it that way. I really thought I’d be able to fix it. I never wanted the boys to go through what I did… the weekend dad.” I laugh sarcastically. “Though you weren’t around much.”
Dad shrugs. “I know I wasn’t. I did a pretty shitty job as a father.”
We agree on that much. “You did.” It may sound like I’m being a total shit to my dad, but things were pretty bad between us for a number of years, but since then we’ve gotten closer.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this. It’s tough. I should know since I’ve been through it four times.”
I know he’s trying to make me feel better about it, but the comment only pisses me off. “Why did you get married that many times? I don’t get it. Why’d you always have to be in a relationship?” I ask this, but what I really mean is why wasn’t I good enough.