“Language,” I scold my son. “Your mother is right there, for fuck’s sake.”
“I didn’t threaten to suck a fucking thing,” Ezra argues, his eyes large and pleading. “I was just spitting out an adorable little freestyle.”
Jaden looks at his mother, unimpressed. “Lil Nas X is in the building, apparently,” which earns him a laugh.
“Okay,” Ezra says, squaring his shoulders and ignoring my son’s jab. “Let’s try this again.” Closing his eyes, he holds his hands to his chest, preparing. “Here a prick, there a prick, I’m too cute for your dick.”
“Better,” Jaden says, placating my son, “But still tragic. Never rhyme again.”
Ezzy stomps his foot on the floor and points at my son with venom in his voice and fire in his eyes. “You’re an asshole, but you tell it like it is. I like that about you.”
“I’m a very likeable person,” Jaden agrees.
“TBD.” Ezra eyes Jaden up and down before nodding approvingly. “I don’t hate you. I don’t necessarily like you, but I don’t hate you either.” He turns and hops into Johnny’s arms. “Johnny! Come on, come on, come on! It’s time to rub-a-dub-dub, stroke my cock in the tub.”
Once Johnny and Ezra are out of the room, Dallas carries Austin upstairs for what they claim will be a cuddle, but judging by the sweak-squeak-squeaking of their bed, and loud, guttural cries of, “Iwant to ride the cock that made me,” from Austin—even though Dallas ain’t his biological father—I don’t think there’s any room for interpretation about what’s really going on up there.
Faith I sit beside each other, both of us staring, neither of us speaking. We’ve always been comfortable in the silence. I loved that about our marriage. We had a very peaceful coexistence for almost twenty years, but I guess the silence got too quiet for her, and then she left to find her bliss alongside my son.
All I can think about is what Johnny and Ezzy are getting up to in the shower. I hope Johnny’s able to ease a bit of our boy’s stress because I know he’s got to be scared right now. He knows I’m bi, and the last thing I want is him thinking I’d leave him for a woman, as if this thing between us has just been a passing fling. With my silence earlier, I worry he’s lost faith in my ability to be the best daddy he could ask for. All I need to do is open my mouth and tell the truth to my ex-wife. To claim the men upstairs as mine. Faith wouldn’t be mad. She and my son both assume I’m at least a little bit bisexual, so I don’t think my seeing a man would make them bat an eye, but dating two men? One, only a couple of years older than my son, the other, an unrelated uncle to my boy. Aside from the heart wanting what it wants, I don’t know how to break this to her yet, so I cower down like a beaten dog, and I push the subject out of mind.
“So,” I finally say. “Not that I’m unhappy to have you here, but why exactly are you here?”
She glares at our son. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?”
Jay flings his hands in the air. “Mom, you promised.”
“I promised no such thing. You wanted to be big and bad with me, back home. Bring that same energy while you’re standing here.”
Jaden rolls his eyes. “He’s sitting, not standing.”
“I’ll stand for a lot of things,” I say. “But from the way your momma’s talking, it sounds like you’ve been giving her grief, and I won't stand for that. What did you do to her?” I look over at Faith. “Did he cuss you out? Because he ain’t so old that I won’t take him over my knee.”
She shakes her head. “No, nothing like that. Tell him, Jaden.”
“Fine. Fucking fine. It’s my fault, okay? I’m the worst son ever, and you’ll both probably disown me anyway, so fuck it. You want the truth? Here it is.” I really don’t like the language he’s using with me and his mom, but he seems to be going through something right now, so I bite my tongue and bide my time until I can safely scold him without sending him into a meltdown. “The thing is, I kind of blew all my student loans on crop tops and makeup.”
My eyes bulge. “You did what?”
“I just wanted to look cute,” he says, as if that makes it any better. “It’s college, and I’m finally ready to live my life openly as a gay man. It’s not my fault looking cute costs so much money.” He holds his hand out expectantly. “A check for fifty thousand should cover things.”
Faith scrubs her face and groans. “I’ve already told you, that’s not going to happen.”
Stunned, I stand and walk to the kitchen, grabbing my checkbook out of the junk drawer. Who the fuck writes checks anymore? I’ve got my name half scribbled when Faith’s high heels click and clack against the hardwood floor.
“What are you doing?” she asks, and then she notices the checkbook. Her hand works at lightning speed, ripping the checks out of my hand, staring at me, horrified. “Oh, for God’s sake. You are not giving him any money. He did the same thing to me, and I stupidly fell for it. I took out a reverse mortgage on our apartment in California, andhe spent every penny on weave, thigh-high boots, and multiple witch hats.”
“I wanted to be Elphaba for Halloween! You gave me the green light,” he calls out from the living room.
“To buy one hat,” she hollers in agreement. “You bought seventy.”
“You can’t judge a product by the picture on its Amazon page. I already told you, I bought all the ones I could find so I could try them on, and then I was going to return the rest.”
Faith arches an eyebrow as she stares back at him. “How did that work out for you?” Jaden looks away, giving her the silent treatment. “Tell him, Jaden.”
Sighing, my son shrugs and looks up at me, completely uninterested in this discussion. “I got stoned and decided I didn’t want to drive across town to the post office with all the witch hats, so I threw them in our apartment complex’s pool, leaving them to either sink or learn to swim.”
I stare at her, jaw clenched. Witchcraft? She’s been letting Jaden practice the dark arts? I should probably be more upset about all the wasted money, but I’m stuck on his newfound hobby. I know Ezzy toys with spirits, but I’ve seen documentaries about wiccan rituals and the shenanigans that go down in New Orleans when tribes of voodoo priests and priestesses get together, drawing on magic to reshape the world around them. Not with my son, they won’t, and not with my money, either. It’s like Faith used to tell me; if I stand for nothing, I’ll fall for everything, and I’m not falling even farther down the ladder of good parenting. I shove the checkbook into my pocket and march right back over to Jay, pointing a finger in his face, only inches away.
