“I trust my own nose more than I trust Pooh. Besides, your brother is a certified electrician. I don’t care what it costs to get him out here today, do it. I have my son this weekend, and I’m not taking any risks.”
“There’s no end to it,” I tell DJ after I hang up the phone. “If it’s not an issue at work, it’s an issue with the club. If not there, then at home. If not that, then it’s your Mommy busting my balls. If not her, then Grandma. Speaking of, let’s get you out of your PJs and go see her.”
I put DJ into the guestroom crib while I find an outfit in the bag that Marissa packed. Rebel is getting dressed in the bedroom when I come in.
“I can’t wait to have a kid with you,” I tell my wife as I hug her waist. “At the rate we’re fucking, it should’ve already happened,” I add, thinking out loud.
She steps away from me.
“Why do you say it like that?” She asks, sounding irritated.
“Like what?”
“Like it’s supposed to happen quickly.”
“With DJ it did,” I shrug. “And maybe, I don’t know, something happened during the procedure? Maybe we should consult a doctor?”
“Oh, my God! Why do you keep bringing that up?” She practically screams, and DJ starts crying in the other room.
I give her a reproachful look, and she storms off, leaving the whole unresolved mess in my lap.
I make shushing sounds at DJ as I take him into my arms. “Come on, don’t cry.”
*
Being at Mom’s with DJ on a Sunday feels like being teleported back in time. I keep expecting Marissa to come out of the kitchen and announce that she’s “all done” with the dishes.
Around four, she does show up, but she has Baldy with her again. It was pretty clear from his emails that he has a hard-on for her, but Marissa should know better than to sleep with the first guy who throws her a bone. She has a kid to take care of now, for fuck’s sake, and he's, like, ten years older than her.
And why the hell is she wearing such short shorts? Her legs look more muscular. Maybe it’s the tan?
No.
There’s something different about her overall; I noticed it yesterday when I picked DJ up. I can’t quite put my finger on it.There’s a freshness and energy in her every movement.
Buzz saw her at one of the Bike Week events and told everyone at the shop that she must have gotten a boob lift. I glance at her chest. They do seem perkier. Is that what she spends the child support money on?
It doesn’t help that Mom fawns over Hawk like he’s God’s gift to womankind.
“And what do you do, Hawk?” She asks as Marissa smooches DJ like she hasn’t seen him in months.
She’s gonna make a sissy out of my boy if she keeps it up. Sorting out formal custody’s gonna be a good thing. By being with me on the weekends, DJ can learn what it means to be a man.
Hawk drones on about the security jobs he does, and I think I get it now. Occupational hazard. That’s why he sits so close to Marissa, almost shielding her from me with his body.
“What’s the craziest security job you’ve ever worked?”
“Last year, I worked on a reality show out in New York where ladies got into fistfights a lot. I was surprised to find that the fights were real. More real than wrestling,” Hawk says, and both women laugh.
“How exciting! Is there a chance I might have seen it?” Mom asks.
“No, ma’am. I think it hasn’t aired yet.”
“Well, I’ll make sure to keep an eye out.”
I haven’t seen Mom this animated in years.
“DJ and I had a great time together,” I announce proudly. “I even gave him a bath after dinner last night.”
