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You have to admit, he had that one coming. Tiller scowls at him, stands, and flops himself on the table. Right into the mashed potatoes. “Ya little motherfucker.”
We have to physically restrain Tiller after that. At least we got to finish dinner before he belly-flopped on the table. And it’s better than the years before that usually ended in a trip to the ER.
“Tiller, can you change her for me?” Amberly asks him, handing Wyatt over to him once he’s off the table.
He grumbles but does what he’s asked of. If you’ve ever hated Tiller, like me, pay close attention to what happens next because it’s amazing.
Do you see him holding the baby on his lap while trying to change her? It would be easier to change her on the floor, or better yet, on a changing table but nope. Tiller never thinks anything through.
So there he is, holding his infant daughter on his thighs, attempting to change her. He takes the diaper off, goes to lift her legs and she shits on him. I’m not talking about a little poop. I’m talking about a full on projectile diarrhea shot all over his stomach and thighs.
It’s pretty much the best day of my life.
I smile, have to leave the room because it stinks, and Scarlet bursts out laughing. “Finally some paybacks!”
LATER THAT NIGHT, with the house lit by thousands of amber-colored lights, long after the kids have destroyed the place with wrapping paper and obnoxious toys like drum sets and Barbies, my brothers, Ricky, and I are sitting around the fire pit drinking. Ophelia makes her way out, eggnog in her hand and sits on my lap.
“I can’t believe you can drink that shit,” I remark. “It’s like drinking cum.”
“You’re so gross.” She laughs, rolling her eyes.
I kiss her and then draw her closer. “And you love it.”
The fires crackles and pops, and then Ophelia laughs lightly in my ear. “What’s so funny?”
She breathes in, her lips at my neck. “Don’t tell Tiller.” She pauses and nods to River, who’s sitting as close as she can to Camden. “But I know that look. I remember sitting around this fire wishing you were mine.”
I twist her to face me, my hand on her cheek. “I was always yours.”
Her head finds my shoulder and I wrap my arm around her. Do you know how you love a woman? You’re there for her when she’s twelve and needs a friend. You break the faces of every other kid who tries to take your place. You don’t lie to her. You keep her from marrying another man. You forgive her for sleeping with your brother. You beg her to move in with you. You hold her through a miscarriage and a premature delivery.
You have her tears. Have her pain.
That’s how you love a woman. You let her be weak and guide her through vulnerability.
It’s for worse, or better, and I have this girl forever.