Page 55 of Doctor Daddy

“You should at least consider giving them an epic middle name, so they say things like ’Trouble is my middle name,’ and not be lying.”

“You’ve put way too much thought into this,” I chuckled.

“And you haven’t?”

I contemplated if I should admit to thinking of names almost every night before I fell asleep. The names I thought of were silly, not epic. I wanted a strawberry girl. “I was thinking I really liked the name Strawberry.”

Angela flopped her hands at me. “Strawberry? That’s something you name a pony or a kitten. We are definitely going to have to work on names.”

I stood and turned to pick up a box to take into my room.

“No, let me get that!” Angela was on her feet suddenly.

“Angela,” I chastised her. “I am perfectly capable of moving boxes. I have been all afternoon. I can take a box from here into my bedroom. And as soon as we get the U-haul returned we still have to unpack my car.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just tired. As soon as I have some pizza in me, I’ll be pumped back up and we can start unpacking.”

25

MARK

About a month later…

With a grunt, I dove for the ball, smashing it out of Peyton’s hands.

I turned and ran down the court dribbling as I went. I was wide open. I took the shot.

“Loser,” David taunted as the ball bounced off the backboard. And back into the court.

That had been a crappy shot. All of my shots had been crappy lately. I caught the ball on the rebound and attempted to take another shot.

“Foul!” Jeff called my illegal move.

I hurled the ball at him. It hit him heavily in the chest.

He grunted. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” I yelled back.

David came up to me and squeezed my shoulder. “Hey, chill out man. This is a friendly game, remember.”

I shot a glare at him. We took positions. I waited for Jeff to throw the ball back in. He feigned his first throw and then shot it toward Peyton.

I jumped in front of Peyton knocking the ball just as he was about to grab it. I slammed my shoulder into him, knocking him over.

He sat on his ass in the middle of the court. “What the hell has gotten into you, Mark?”

“Language,” Jeff reprimanded us like we were school children and not adults.

“I am so tired of you and your language.” I took the ball and dropped it on the floor next to Peyton before storming off. I did not have the patience for adults who could not handle light swearing. We were not professional ball players; this was a pick-up game for fun.

Basketball was supposed to ease my tension and help my body and mind to relax from the stresses of my job. This was only adding to the building aggravation that was my life. I slammed through the doors into the locker room, banging the locker door open. I pulled out a towel and wiped the sweat from my face with a growl. I twisted the cap off my water bottle and poured water into my mouth. Some of it ran down my throat, some ran down the sides of my face, soaking my shirt.

“Mark?”

I didn’t turn when I heard Peyton’s voice.

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