The Foster Dad

by Christopher X Sullivan

  “Good night, big guy,” Mark whispered.

  “Good night,” said a little sleepy voice.

  “Sleep well and when you wake up, we're gonna have even more fun. Did you have a good day today?”

  “Yeah.”

  I heard blankets move and what sounded like a goodnight kiss.

  “I love you,” Mark said softly.

  “Love you, too.”

  God, I was so damn jealous! Mark was such a sneak! I couldn’t wait for his excuse this time—he was so selfish. All he cared about was his own feelings... who cared about mine? Nobody.

  He slipped out of the tent and I ambushed him. I may have slapped him lightly.

  “What’s that for?” he whispered.

  I slapped his arm lightly again. “I’m pissed.” We walked to our car for a private conversation. “So you get to say goodnight, but not me? What’s with that?”

  “I always tuck him in for bed. That’s my job.” He stressed the word ‘job’ like it was supposed to be hard work.

  “Fuck off. I’m going to shower and get in a better mood.”

  “You better not go in the tent right now... you’ll wake him up.”

  “You already woke him up.” Selfish!

  “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal. Tomorrow you can tuck him into bed.”

  “No. That’s fine.” It was fine. Mark had reduced his traveling schedule, but he still had to spend a few nights out of town every other week. I got to tuck Alex in on those nights and we would video conference with Mark.

  “What’s got you so worked up all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t know. I’m thinking... it’s just having my parents around. I remember how my dad used to tuck me in after he would come home late from work and that’s one of my most enduring memories from childhood and... I don’t know.”

  “That’s why I do it. I remember you telling me about that and I spend a lot of time in the office and out of town, so when I’m home I want to tuck him in. I didn’t realize it was eating you up like this.”

  “It isn’t. I’m just feeling crabby.”

  “If anyone should feel crabby, it’s me. You gave me the worst case of blue balls in the—”

  A crunch alerted us to someone approaching through the darkness. It was my parents.

  “We’re taking off,” my dad said.

  “You can still stay,” I offered, for probably the tenth time that day.

  “Naw. Maybe next time. You should keep the bike though.”

  “I already told mom we don’t have the space.”

  “Then drop it off at our house on your way through the city. Take him for a bike ride tomorrow morning and enjoy the nice weather.”

  Not what I meant. We don’t have room in our apartment and we also don’t have room in my vehicle. “Keep it and you can take him for a ride when mom babysits. Thank you for the gift but—”

  “We’ll take it,” Mark said, interrupting me. “We’ll find a place for it in the car.”

  “Shoulda just gotten a small truck,” my dad said.

  “If I had a truck, then we wouldn’t have had enough room for a kid.”

  “I’m just kidding,” he said, in that annoying way of his which meant he was just doing it to get a rise out of me. “It would’ve been nice to see your parents. Too bad they couldn’t make it.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Wolff aren’t really into this kind of thing,” I answered. I pressed my body against Mark’s side to keep him from getting emotional.

  “That’s too bad,” my mom said. “You have us though.” She gave Mark a hug and whispered something so I couldn’t hear.

  Then we parted ways.

  Mark removed the green bike from their truck. I gave my mom a hug and my dad gave me a stiff handshake. It was a pleasant goodbye and my earlier argument with Mark was completely lost to the sands of time.

  My parents drove off and I quietly retrieved my shower supplies. Alex was deeply asleep by that time.

  I showered in the dark which helped me forget about the disgusting germs crawling up and down the shower wall... and up over my shower shoes... and probably infecting my feet. The warm water blasted away my concerns from the day and eased my sore muscles.

  I was reminded of how many times my grandparents had done exactly what my parents did—they would drive hours through the country to visit our campsite. They never spent the night. They’d probably made hundreds of late-night drives back home because they wouldn’t sleep in our old camper.

  And why not? They were always invited. They were part of our family. Why did my mom and dad feel like they had to do the same thing my grandparents used to do? They were welcome in my family space. Alex loved their attention. They made life a little more interesting.

  It was a melancholy thought that wouldn’t wash away with the soapy shower. Somehow... my parents had become copies of my grandparents. In thirty years, would I become them? Would I one day be doomed to load up our car after visiting Alex and his family for the day only to resist the offer to spend the night?

  It was such a stupid thing, anyway. Was it pride? They weren’t intruders. What could I do to bridge this dumb tradition?

  The next time we went camping, I would make sure it was specifically with my parents in mind. Tim and Ryan and I had discussed a potential weekend where we could all camp together near a water park, but it felt more important to include my parents in this kind of vacation than my friends. Mom, Dad and I used to spend so much time doing this when I was younger.

  Maybe that was it? My parents wanted to make sure this became a tradition for my budding family and with my family alone.

  Stupid. They’re included in my family. Just look at Mark... his parents don’t give a shit what we do with the kid.

  THE NEXT MORNING WAS an even more relaxed affair. Mark didn’t speak until he had his coffee. I took Alex to the bathroom right away. Before you knew it, it was already time to pack up.

  “Let’s go to the bweeeeach,” Alex begged.

  “We will after we’re done taking down the tent. We have to be out of here at eleven.”

  “Babe,” Mark said. “It’s only nine.”

  “Time is gonna fly. Plus, we have to get you-know-who in the shower before we get him in the car.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “No, no, no. I got it. It’s my fault for telling him I never used to shower when we went camping. My bad.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Mark repeated.

  “It’s my fault.”

  “Do you really want to see him touch those walls and see his bare feet touch the ground?”

  My back shivered.

  “That’s what I thought. I’ll take care of it. You just finish cleaning up.” Mark made a lazy, circular hand motion to indicate how I was meticulously packing every item in our possession.

  “Why am I the one that does all the cleaning?”

  “Because you’re the cleanfreak,” he answered immediately. “Love ya.” He kissed me then turned to Alex, who was playing with the fire. “Hey, firebug, time to shower.”

  “Nooooo. We’re going to the beach.”

  “We’ll go to the beach after.” Mark knelt a few feet away. “Come here.”

  Alex reluctantly stopped watching the embers smoke and walked to Mark, who sniffed his hair and neck and shirt.

  “Yep,” Mark declared. “This is one stinky boy.”

  “Am not!”

  “Am so.”

  I handed the shower supplies to Mark and a clean change of clothes to Alex. “Shower real quick and we’ll ride your green bike down to the beach.”

  “Otay.”

  Pushover.

  They came back fifteen minutes later, smiling victoriously and completely bare-chested. Mark gave me a big sloppy smooch. Alex waited patiently for a hug and whispered how he loved me.

  “Love you, too.”

  We moved to the bikes. I strapped the kid in his turtle helmet.

  “Where’s Gabb
y?” Alex asked. “Where’s Caleb?”

  “They’ve been biking around the park all morning. We’ll just have to go look for them.”

  Mark and I took Keegan and Denise’s bikes. We found Gabby and Caleb near the berm by the shallow harbor. They followed us to the beach.

  The parking lot was empty and there was not a single beach-goer that early in the morning.

  “Where’s your castle?” I asked.

  “I know!” Caleb said, running to the waves. Gabby followed him. Both of their helmets were abandoned in the sand.

  Alex started running after them, but I called him back to take off his helmet. “Hurry up, Chris,” he said impatiently.

  The snap came undone and he was out of my arms in less than a second and running after the two older kids.

  “Are we going to lock this stuff up?” Mark taunted.

  “It would serve you right to have it stolen... now that no one is here.”

  We left our bikes unattended in the bike rack. Gabby and Caleb’s bikes were sideways on the ground. Mark and I strolled hand-in-hand towards the shoreline and then set a leisurely pace up to where the kids were digging in the sand.

  “Looks like the castle survived,” Mark commented.

  “But the waves!” Gabby said. “The waves are going to sink it! We have to build a wall.”

  “It’s the tide,” Mark said. “Can’t change that.”

  “Uncle Mark,” Caleb said. “Can you get us a big log and put it right here so the castle doesn’t fall?”

  I knelt and inspected the hastily repaired structure. “We got here just in the nick of time. I like what you engineers have been up to. First Lieutenant, can you find us a good breakwall?”

  “Ay ay, Captain,” Mark said, giving me a solute.

  “Not you, soldier. I’m talking to my First Lieutenant.” I smiled at Alex and he giggled.

  Alex agreed to find a stick to my exact specifications. He and Mark went in search of the perfect log while Gabby, Caleb and I tried to shore up the castle’s sinking foundation. My guys returned and we installed the breakwall.

  “Look at that,” I remarked. “The castle has been saved. Good job, engineers.”

  “And we have fifteen minutes to make it back to camp,” Mark added after looking at his watch.

  The two older kids bolted for their bikes. I told Alex to wash his hands because it was important to be clean. His sandals were soaked and covered in sand, which had to be uncomfortable.

  Then he ran after the older kids.

  “Make sure he puts on his helmet!” I yelled.

  Gabby waved back to me. She set Alex’s bike on the pavement and had his helmet ready to go.

  “You’re really just gonna let him go?” Mark asked.

  “The kids will watch out for him.” And we’ll catch up to them in a minute.

  We strolled up the beach, alone except for the seagulls.

  “You know, we should get a puppy,” he said, breaking the silence.

  “Where did that come from?”

  “My family had a dog until I was about Alex’s age. We never got another one after she died. I think Alex would like a dog.”

  “We’re not getting a dog.”

  “Says who?” he challenged.

  “Says the lease on your apartment, for one thing.”

  “You always want to pimp me out. Just have me fuck the super and we’ll be good.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Don’t be like that. I can see that the idea is getting you excited.”

  “I’m not going to sell your body to the highest bidder. We’re over that part of our relationship.”

  Mark kissed me so hard on the neck it could have left me with a hickey.

  “Get control of yourself,” I said, swatting his head away.

  “Never,” he promised. “I want you right now.”

  “What?” His offer made me chuckle.

  “You gave me fucking blue balls yesterday. I need relief.”

  “Hold it together, man. We’ll take care of it at home.”

  He pushed me up the beach and away from the bike rack. “There’s no one here. I’m gonna fuck you right now.”

  He’s serious?

  “I’m a big park ranger and you’re the homeless hottie living in the shadows. You need some food and I need some relief.”

  “That’s not going to work,” I protested, even though he quickly had me on my knees in the sand. “Anyone in a boat can see us right now.”

  “I’m the park ranger, fallen in love with a hustler.” Mark kissed my neck again. “Hopefully you don’t give me syphilis.”

  “Damn... you really have a way with words.”

  His urgency did not abate and it freaked me out.

  “We can’t do this on a public beach,” I reasoned. “We literally have to check out in five minutes.”

  “Relax.” He spit on his fingers.

  “Fuck no.” I twisted away as his wet fingers found my asshole. “No lube... it ain’t happening.”

  “Who said we didn’t have lube?” Mark pulled a slim, palm-length tube out of his pocket along with a condom.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  But he wasn’t kidding. He grinned like a kid, then returned to quickly loosening my hole. When all the preparation was done, we did a quickie on the beach.

  And my ass squelched against Keegan’s bike seat the entire ride back to camp.

  The Lion King

  WE TOOK ALEX TO THE movie theater one night to see The Lion King. Mark and I both had fond memories of that movie from our childhood, so when the theater that occasionally screened old Disney movies on Wednesday nights put up a notice on Facebook about The Lion King, Mark said, “Let’s do it.”

  It seemed like a great idea. The year before there’d been a worldwide 3-D theatrical re-release of the movie that lasted for two weeks. I’d wanted to take Mark (even though it was a huge gimmick), but he didn’t want to deal with all the ‘whiny brats’.

  But now, one year later, we had a kid of our own to take and going to the theater to see one of our favorite Disney movies felt like a rite of passage.

  We swung him between our arms as we walked up to the ticket booth. We let him hand the money to the guy behind the glass. We also let him pick out his candy and popcorn—I had my own healthy snacks.

  Mark and Alex settled in for the commercials and devoured the popcorn. Then Mark threw a piece at me and tried to get Alex to do the same, but the kid just laughed nervously and squirmed in his seat. Mark winked, but it wasn’t cute how he could be more of a little kid than an actual little kid.

  The movie started. Everything was going well. Then, spoiler alert, Mufasa died.

  Like... he died. Actually, he was fucking murdered and Simba was totally framed.

  And there’s this three-minute section where Simba was running around frantically looking for his father and everyone in the audience knew that the dad-lion was dead, dead, dead. And we had to listen to Simba wailing, “Dad, Dad, Dad.”

  God, it was painful!

  Alex twisted in his seat and whispered, “He’s not dead. He’s not dead.” The kid was absolutely glued to the screen. And it didn’t help that the background score went mostly silent except for a swelling dissonance to heighten the tension.

  Then they showed Mufasa’s body and Simba’s crying... and Alex couldn't take it.

  Mark and I leaned over his seat and were whispering how everything was going to be alright. It didn’t help that a child on the other side of the theater was wailing.

  “You can look away,” I said. “It’s all going to be fine in the end.” I pried his back away from the seat. “Come sit with me.”

  He climbed into my lap and I put my right arm around him like a seatbelt. Mark slid into Alex’s old seat and held his hand.

  “It’s going to be alright?” Alex asked timidly.

  “Yes.”

  “Is the daddy dead?”

  I bent down and kissed t
he side of his head. “Yes,” I whispered. “But Simba is going to be fine. Okay?”

  “Otay...”

  Alex was absolutely captivated by the screen. His little mouth had been open when he saw Scar press his nails into Mufasa’s arms. He squirmed during the stampede when there was a lot of chaos and he couldn’t tell what was going to happen. He cried when Simba found his father’s body.

  “It’s all his fault...” Alex whispered, which was exactly what Scar wanted Simba to think.

  “No,” I said. “You saw what the bad lion did.”

  “Yeah... but, but, but...”

  Mark kissed him on the other side of his face. “Scar is a bad lion. He wants to be king of the lions, so he has to scare Simba away.”

  “Scare him away?”

  “Yep.”

  By the time we worked out how Simba wasn’t at fault for his father’s death and made sure Alex could visualize the royal lineage of a fictional pride of lions, the movie had already moved on to Timon and Pumbaa.

  The danger time passed. And I was pissed off! I didn’t remember this movie being so scary! What the hell! I remembered loving this movie. This used to be one of my favorite movies, along with Beauty and the Beast. (We saw the live-action remake of Beauty and the Beast... it wasn’t that good. Why did they have to turn it into a Michael Bay movie at the end?)

  The Lion King left me feeling helpless. There was my kid, this little person I was supposed to protect from all harm, and you could see his innocence shattered as we watched that movie. My gut twisted and all I could do was watch Alex watch the movie—see his face as the emotions rolled through him.

  He’s not dead. He’s not dead.

  I expected the kid to freak out. Based on what he’d been through in his life, I suddenly had this huge worry that he would suffer a flashback and maybe pee his pants. But he was fine.

  Mark and I soothed him by holding his hands. He stayed in my lap until after Timon and Pumbaa’s introductory song.

  Mark kept trying to get my attention while Alex was in my lap, but I wasn’t about to have it. I must have been frowning big time because when I was pissed off like that—there was no way for me to hide it.