“I know this is a surprise, and I know it isn’t easy.”
“No. Don’t you psychoanalyze me. I’m not one of your patients, Doug. Did you put this idea in Hobie’s head? Why spend time with Walker when you can spend your birthday with your fun dads!”
He and Doug had agreed to a joint custody arrangement originally. But then work got busier, Hobie started school, and Doug could arrange his client appointments around Hobie’s schedule. And he had Ron to shoulder the responsibilities. Walker’s joint custody eroded little by little, a few hours here, half a day there. Now he was down to two days a week and every other weekend.
“I didn’t put this idea in his head,” Doug said.
Walker wished he had. That would’ve been easier to handle than the truth Doug was leaving unsaid. Walker felt the punch to his solar plexus.
Silence hung in the air.
“You might not have given him the idea, but you certainly aren’t discouraging him.”
“Can you blame him?” Doug raised his voice. He was on the edge of his chair. “Whenever you pick up Hobie, you’re late, and then you’re tired or in a mood or distracted. Kids are smart. They pick up on those feelings.”
“Especially when their shrink fathers are pointing them out.”
“What do you have planned for Saturday, for his actual birthday?”
Walker stammered for an answer. More silence in the air. Thicker than late August humidity. He caught a smug smile flit across his ex-husband’s face. But that wasn’t the person he hated right now. Walker didn’t have pancake mix at his condo. He didn’t even have Hobie’s favorite cereal, which Doug had forbid him from eating since it wasn’t organic.
“Fine,” Walker mumbled out. “I’ll have him back Friday evening.”
“I can just keep him when he gets out of school. I’m picking him up anyway.”
Walker scratched at his empty ring finger. “Okay.”
“Thank you Walker. He’s really going to appreciate it.”
Φ
Walker kept looking back at Hobie through the rearview mirror. Doug let him graduate to the booster seat from the full-on harness in January. Each time he looked through the mirror, he hoped his son would be looking back at him, making a silly face like he used to.
Hobie stared out the window.
“Hey, champ! You excited for this weekend? The Trampoline Palace is going to be a good time.”
“Yeah.”
Hobie had wild black hair and olive skin. Genetically, he had nothing in common with his dads. That didn’t stop Walker from seeing his brown eyes and long nose in his son’s face.
“I’m going to miss you this weekend, but I hear Ron is cooking up some of his famous pancakes.”
“Yeah. With whipped cream, too.”
“What makes them so special? Is it the whipped cream?”
“He puts butterscotch chips and blueberries in them.”
“My stomach is growling! Can you hear that?” Walker roared like a lion. Not too far off from his stomach’s real sound.
“Stomachs don’t growl like lions, Dad.”
“You got me.” Walker didn’t even know his son liked butterscotch. He would’ve gotten butterscotch topping for ice cream sundaes or butterscotch pudding. Why didn’t Doug tell him? Doug’s pettiness never ceased to amaze him. He made a mental note to pick up butterscotch something tomorrow.
“Hey, I got some shipments in from Amazon. There are some leftover boxes you can play with at the condo.” It was getting harder to keep on a happy face. Walker was like a comedian bombing.
Walker looked in the rearview mirror, waiting for a response. Hobie shrugged his shoulders. “Thanks.”
