Jamie:
I hope Rowan’s having fun.
And you. I hope you’re having fun, too.
For some reason, Tyler’s chest felt tight.
“Papa,” Rowan whined. “I’m hungry.”
Tyler pocketed his phone. “There are more fries.”
Rowan’s lower lip jutted out and his eyes welled up with tears. “Nooooo.” He reached up, grabbing big handfuls of Tyler’s loose hair and yanking, hard.
Hissing, Tyler bit back a curse. Around them, the crowd roared. Someone must have scored again, but Tyler couldn’t bring himself to care about goals or games. Right now, he had a toddler who was up past his bedtime, stuck in an environment that was, objectively, overstimulating.
He dislodged Rowan’s little hands and gathered his son into a tight, all-consuming hug. A quick glance up at the game clock showed there were still twelve minutes remaining in the second period.
Fuck.
His knee bounced. He forced it to still.
Jamie had gotten them these tickets. It was such a nice thing to do–Tyler knew that. He guessed they were good seats, too, expensive seats, that he wouldn’t have been able to afford.
But Rowan didn’t understand any of that. Rowan was just a kid who was tired and overwhelmed, and that made the choice easy.
Standing up, Tyler gathered Rowan in his arms and grabbed his backpack.
It was a battle to get to the car, Rowan squirming and crying and melting like he always did when he stayed up too late. Tyler tried to stay steady, to keep his voice soft and calm. If Rowan was a raging sea, it was Tyler’s job to be the steady, unyielding shore. Consistent. Strong.
Reliable.
The night was cold, biting at bare skin, a stinging, brutal touch. Tyler kissed Rowan’s nose, holding him close, and then began to sing. “Don’t worry,” he started, voice coming out a little rusty. “About a thing. ‘Cause every little thing, is gonna be alright. Singing don’t worry, about a thing. ‘Cause every little thing, is gonna be alright.”
“Three little birds, up with the rising sun,”Rowan sang back, his voice high and small as he mixed up the words. He got them wrong every time, and it was one of the many tiny, precious parts of parenthood that Tyler held close and coveted.
They sang back and forth as he carried Rowan to the parking garage. As Tyler was buckling him into his car seat, Rowan said: “Papa, I wanted to see Jamie tonight.”
Tyler kissed Rowan’s warm, red cheek. “I know, kiddo.”
“Can we have him over for a playdate soon?”
Kids, man. Fucking kids. “He’s a pretty busy guy, but maybe we can ask.”
Rowan fell asleep almost immediately, but Tyler didn’t fully relax until they’d gotten home and Rowan was safely tucked into his crib, holding Bunny in one hand, and the other gripping the edge of a soft, old quilt.
Tyler had an old beanbag chair wedged into a corner of Rowan’s room, where he’d sit while he waited for Rowan to fall fully asleep.
Once Rowan’s breathing became even, Tyler crept out of the room, leaving the door cracked.
Exhaustion overwhelmed him then. He retreated to his room,changing into a pair of sweatpants and a soft crewneck. Still in his wool socks, he padded into the hall bathroom, digging through the basket of their shared toiletries for his face wash and lotion. He flossed and brushed his teeth, staring blearily at his reflection in the mirror.
He spat out his toothpaste, cupping his hands under the tap and scooping cold water into his mouth. He swished, spit again, and then he was back in his room, crawling under the covers, hating how cold the cotton sheets felt.
He grabbed his phone from where he’d tossed it onto the duvet, curling up on his left side and pulling the heavy blankets over himself.
Five unread messages.Five.
He ignored them for the moment, navigating to his online banking profile. His chest grew tight as he looked at his balance.
