I toss the napkin into the trash on the way to the bathroom, and the young woman working behind the counter catches my attention and asks. “Can I get you an ice cream?”
“Nah.” I shake my head, doing my best not to touch anything. I don’t want to get anything sticky. “I’m only here to meet those guys but thank you.”
“Ah, yes.” Her gaze shifts back to Kaci and the kids sitting up front. “You have such a beautiful wife and kids. You’re a very lucky man.”
“She’s, uh, not…” I pause, choking up and trying again, “That’s not my…uh.” I curl my fingers into a fist and pound on my chest, trying to break the pressure, but it’s strange how I can’t speak.
Where did this sudden burst of emotion come from?
There’s no reason to explain to this woman that Kaci isn’t my wife. She doesn’t know either of us, and it doesn’t matter—but I should at least be able to get the words out.
“Oh, here.” She reaches under the counter and grabs a few packets of wet napkins and slides them across the counter to me. “Take these for your kids.”
“Thank you.” I manage to smile while the words “they aren’t my kids” cling to the tip of my tongue.
Those words are broken.
And I don’t know why.
Or maybe I do know why.
Maybe it’s because deep down, I sort of wish they were my kids.
I’ve always seen myself as a family guy. Although, I’ve never put a timeline on that sort of thing as I always assumed it would fall into place when it was meant to happen. After today and spending a whole day in the chaos of parenthood, I’ve been given a taste of what that life could be, and my heart feels a little bit hollow. I’ve been shown what I’m missing out on. Sure, it’s a lot more stress, but it’s also a lot more fun. Not to mention, I wasn’t bored or lonely once today as I didn’t have time for either of those emotions.
I’m stuck with all my words clogging my throat while she returns to her work. Maybe I don’t need to explain to her, but something is happening inside my chest that I need to figure out for myself. I retrieve the wet napkins and force my legs to walk back to the table. My vision morphs into a weird haze, hyper-focused on Kaci, and a single word rings round my head.
Wife.
That’s so crazy that the lady thought Kaci was my wife and these are my kids. I’m just babysitting. A forced chuckle leaks out of my brain. Kaci turns to me, meeting my gaze, and atsunami crashes over, blanketing all my thoughts, leaving only her image embedded in them.
What is happening?
I take one of the wet napkins and clean off the ice cream while my ears ring with the word wife sounding louder and louder in my head.
I’m losing it.
I’m about to smack the side of my head to try to reset my hearing because this is totally crazy, but I don't want to look insane.
“Great idea.” Kaci cuts off my ear ringing, extending her hand for one of the wet napkins.
I hand her one, open the remaining packet, and hand it to Rigsby, directing him to clean his hands, while my heart beats like a bass drum, warning me.
Warning me about what?
I have this alarm going off in my chest, but I don’t know why.
My heart thrums against my chest, as if announcing, “That’s your wife—you’re wasting your shot."
I mentally argue back.
What shot?
Since I apparently now have this weird split personality thing going on, my brain responds with a rebuttal that makes my blood run cold.
“How did you miss this before? It’s a ready-made family. If she leaves now, this day will be one of those random memories we both tuck away about the worst day ever.”
Okay, so what?I argue back.
