I don’t know what I’m doing. Plain and simple.
I know how to be the fun guy. To spoil him senseless. Take him to the arcade, the movies, football and baseball games. I know how to make him laugh and buy him things that give him temporary joy. I know how to make him feel like my number one priority for a few days at a time.
But that’s not the same thing as raising a kid.
I don’t know shit about that.
My parents never wanted kids. I was an accident, a drunken weekend gone bad.
My nanny, Gloria, raised me. She was the one who showed up. Who corrected me. Who taught me right from wrong.
My parents never showed love by spending time with me or telling me I’d done a good job. They never disciplined me, either. The only reason I ever learned the meaning of a consequence was because of Gloria.
Then, when I was twelve, she was let go. They didn’t need her anymore, and from there on out, it was natural consequences only.
Only… not really.
Hence, the DUI with Nate.
Every real consequence I should’ve faced was softened, paid for and made to disappear. Pain and pleasure were the only things no one could take away from me. When I fought, things felt fair. When I slept with Jordan, I felt good. When I smoked pot or drank, things felt easier. Manageable.
My dad never taught me how to pivot or do better. He never taught me accountability. Never taught me about relationships or values or integrity. He didn’t give me a moral compass. Thank fuck for that, because his is broken beyond repair.
No.
All he ever taught me was how to work.
How to win.
How to take up space.
When I was a kid, I caught him watching a woman walking by, his eyes lingering, mouth already halfway to a smile. He noticed me noticing and said,You’ll understand one day.
All I understood then was that I had a mother who probably didn’t feel the same way.
I scrub a hand over my mouth, feeling the weight of it all.
This is happening.
Me and Jordan.
Husband and wife.
A united front for custody of a kid.
Shit.
It suddenly feels real in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I’m just grateful Jordan’s here and that I’m not doing this alone.
Not that she grew up with a normal blueprint either.
But if the two of us can give Cole something better than what we both got, even a fraction of what Nate gave him, I’ll consider that a win.
Nate was a man’s man. He took Cole hunting, fishing, hiking, camping, everything my father wouldn’t touch with a nine-foot pole. To my father, a man’s man was someone with power, money, and the ability to fuck anyone he wanted.
Jesus.
