Page 119 of Three Not-So-Little Words
He nods, and we begin to sing. I can tell he’s trying to put on his best happy face, but he’s still sad. I wish I could do something to take that sadness away. Unfortunately, that’s not how grief works. I understand that fact better than most. While I can puton a happy face and pretend that I’m fine and ready to take on the world, a six-year-old doesn’t quite grasp that concept.
Nor should he.
He probablyshouldfeel his emotions instead of locking them away. I’m not sure my way of handling Aaron’s death has always been the healthiest. While I have always tried to honor his memory and fulfill my promise of living life to the fullest, I’ve also never had anything resembling a serious relationship until now. Even with Drew, it’s not like I’m always all that warm and fuzzy. I still have a way of shutting him out when things get too real.
Maybe if I would have dealt with my feelings a little better, I wouldn’t be such a chicken when it comes to commitment.
When we get done singing, he looks at the candle. “Who is going to blow it out?”
“Well, you do,” I tell him.
“Why?”
“Because you can make the wish, and maybe your mom will help make it come true.”
By his face, I can’t tell if he believes me or not, but he doesn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he just takes a deep breath and blows out the lone candle.
I take it out so that he can dig into the good part when he asks, “Do you want to know what I wished for?”
While that’s normally not how this works–oh, who am I kidding, I really don’t have a fucking clue how any of this is supposed to work. I’m riding this runaway train wherever it takes me.
“Do you want to tell me?” I ask.
He shrugs and thinks about it for a second before saying, “I wished that I got to go see penguins.”
“Because they were your mom’s favorite?” I ask, remembering what he’s previously told me.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m sure that she’s going to do her best to make sure that happens for you,” I say.
He and I both dig in on some cupcakes before making our way back to the couch for another superhero movie. I know I didn’t completely make this day better for him, but I hope that I helped out a little.
Although I have always been very against dating anyone with kids, I have to say that Colton is pretty cool. As far as kids go, I don’t think he’s too bad. It helps that he’s a little miniature version of his dad. Drew is pretty damn easy to like, so it makes sense that his son would be the same way.
I can’t imagine how today would have gone if Colton was a baby, though, and Drew was still in bed sick. I probably would have had to call in reinforcements in the form of my mother or one of my siblings.
But I think we fared alright. Neither one of us are dead nor maimed, so I guess that’s a win.
I think for the most part, Colton likes me. He at least tolerates me and doesn’t treat me like the bitchy fiancé in The Parent Trap. I don’t know that I could make it through all of that shit. Then again, he’s only six. Maybe we just haven’t gotten there yet.
As we sit on the couch, I struggle to keep my eyes open.
Remember when I said that watching Drew take care of Colton all night while I did practically nothing was exhausting?
Well, I was wrong. Oh, so wrong.
Exhausting is having to take care of him by myself. Is he a baby? No. And I am extremely grateful for that, but I swear the kid has non-stop energy. He goes like the freaking Energizer bunny all damn day.
Meanwhile, the only time I have that much energy is when I’m getting laid. Even then, it’s not like I’m going all fucking night–pun intended–without a break.
I glance over at the clock and see that it’s only 8:17.
Good lord.
Saturday nights are looking a whole lot different these days.
As I think about that fact, I wait for my stomach to churn or the sense of dread to swell within me.
