Page 19
Tusk
W hen we leave Siege’s office, I wrap my arm around Brittany as we head out to my vehicle. “You ready to meet my boys?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, I saw them with you and your ex that day I thought you got back together. They seemed like nice kids.”
“Shows how much you know,” I tease her.
I take the baby from her and strap her into the car seat before getting into my side of the car.
I find that I’m cautiously happy as I drive to pick up my boys. Having Brittany at my side feels right. I should have integrated her into my family a long time ago. I don’t even know why I was so reluctant. Guess it was because I didn’t want my ex to harass her. But now everything has changed. We’re committed and making a family together.
It’s midmorning, and the sun is shining brightly, making everything seem happy and bright. It helps put everything we learned in the meeting in my rearview. I’ve driven to pick up the boys a hundred times since the divorce, but this isn’t just another weekend visitation. This is the day my boys meet their baby sister and the woman I fully intend to marry.
The second I pull up, the boys come running out and pile into the SUV. I peel out of the driveway, squealing the tires to avoid having to talk to Gina.
My boys don’t bother with overnight bags because their mom never sends back the items I buy for them. They just kind of get sucked into a black hole and are never seen or heard from again. I told them to come with the clothes on their backs. After Gina’s stupid games, I made sure I had everything they need at my home. It’s no fun always having to be one step ahead of that woman, but I’ll do anything to make my boys happy.
***
On the drive to the park my kids were too busy chatting about their week to pay much attention to Brittany and Victoria. But when we unload from the vehicle, they eye them up curiously. Obviously, when they got in I introduced Brittany to them as my friend, and said Victoria was her daughter, but I wanted to wait until we were out of the car before explaining that’s she’s more than a friend. Brittany walks ahead with the baby and takes a seat on a bench so she can feed her before we set off.
The boys follow behind me, and I can hear their sneakers crunching against the gravel as we walk. We stop at a large bench about fifteen yards from where Brittany and the baby are resting. When I sit down, the boys fling themselves onto the bench as well—all except my oldest.
Jack has always been a bundle of energy. Today is no different. He’s ten and the leader of the pack when I’m not around. I give him a minute to burn off some steam by playing pretend hopscotch.
Before I can bring up the topic, he asks, “Who’s the blonde? I’ve never seen her before.”
Curious, I ask, “Who do you think she is?”
“I’m guessing she’s your new girlfriend. She’s real pretty and she’s got long legs. If I were drawing her, she’d be ten feet tall.”
I want to laugh, but I don’t—’cause I’m their father, and I have to set a good example. “I don’t want you telling Brittany she has long body parts or drawing weird pictures of her. She’s sensitive, and we’re gonna treat her nice.”
Roan, my eight-year-old, asks, “Is she nice? Where’d she get a baby?”
“Yeah, she’s really nice to me and will be to you all as well. Just like your mom and I made all of you, Brittany and I made you a sister.”
Roan’s eyes go wide, and Jack suddenly stops in his tracks.
“She’s your sister,” I say. Then add, “Well, she’s your half-sister, and her name is Victoria.”
Jack asks bluntly, “Are the two of you getting married? If you are, Mom’s gonna get mad and not let us see you again.”
I give a sigh, my kids shouldn’t have to worry about adult shit. “Your mom knows that we aren’t getting back together. But whatever happens, you are my boys and nothing’s gonna keep me away from you, okay?”
He looks uncertain, so I give his hair a ruffle. “Okay, champ?”
“Okay, Dad,” he says with a smile.
His younger brothers are silent but listening with interest.
Looking at each of them, I ask, “How do you feel about having a little sister?”
Jack speaks up first. “It’s great. We can get into fights to help her, and the grown-ups won’t even get mad.”
“That’s mostly right, but we’ll need to talk about the details, okay?”
He nods and starts doing his fake hopscotch moves backward.
Turning to Roan, I say, “Time to weigh in, little buddy. What do you think about having a sister?”
He shrugs. “Do we have to play girl games?”
“Babies don’t play games, but doing girly things occasionally is part of having a sister.”
He tries to nail me down on the specifics. “Occasionally means almost never, right?”
“Look,” I tell him. “There are four of you. As far as I’m concerned, you can take turns. As long as your sister is happy, you’re not gonna get in trouble with me.”
I close my mouth and let the implication sink in—if she’s not happy, there will be trouble.
My two youngest are only four and six. Suddenly, the six-year-old, Robbin, perks up. “We teach her boy games. She play with us.”
His grammar’s all messed up, but I get what he’s saying.
“Don’t make her play boy games. She has to want to do it.”
When the smile drops right off his face, I know he doesn’t think that’s very likely.
“Right now, she doesn’t play games. We’ll have to wait until she’s older to know what she likes. You’re all big brothers, and just like you take care of each other, I want you to take care of your sister.”
They all nod, looking kinda okay with having a sister.
“You ready to meet Brittany and your little sister, properly?”
All I get is a bunch of nods, and for today, that’s good enough.
We walk back over to the picnic table where Brittany is sitting, and they all crowd around. Thankfully, she’s finished feeding our daughter.
Brittany smiles. “Hi. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time, I hope we can have fun today.”
Jack looks her up and down again, no doubt wondering whether to mention her ten-foot long legs or not, I give him a warning glance. Instead he says, “You gonna marry our daddy?”
Brittany almost chokes on her juice.
Before I can say anything, Robbin chimes in, “You got candy on you?”
Charlie’s eyes light up at that—my four-year-old has a seriously sweet tooth.
Brittany shakes her head. “Sorry, but no. All I have is fruit.”
They lose interest in that real fast.
Finally, Roan gets up and walks around the table to gaze down at the baby. “I’m Roan. What’s our sister’s name?”
“Victoria,” Brittany replies.
Roan looks like he wants to reach out and touch her, but he’s suddenly shy.
Jack’s mouth twitches into a smile, but all he says is, “That’s fancy.”
She grins. “I named her after my grandmother. Would you like to hold her?”
“It depends. Is she gonna pee or poo on me?” Jack says.
“Maybe, but she’s wearing a diaper. That means you’ll be safe.”
He drops down on the bench, and Brittany lays our precious daughter in his arms for the first time. The delight on Jack’s face is contagious. Soon, all my boys crowd around to get a look. They’re all smiles.
When Robbin says, “Girls smell pretty,” Brittany laughs. “I think that’s the baby lotion I use to keep her skin soft.”
Jack glances at me before announcing, “She’s small, like a doll.”
I tell him sternly, “Well, she ain’t no doll. She’s a tiny human being and your only sister.”
A hush falls over the boys as they gaze at her. Finally, Robbin whispers what we’re all thinking.
“She’s pretty, like her mama.”
I can see Brittany’s heart melting for my boys, and it’s such a relief that we’re all getting along so well.
When Robbin reaches out to gently touch the baby’s arm, the others lean in, whispering. He looks up at me with an expression of wonder. “She’s small, quiet, and light.”
I finally get what they’re saying. “Yeah, she’s small and delicate, but she’s strong on the inside where it counts. You were all small once, but you grew up strong, and so will she.”
They all nod, feeling more secure now that they know she’s not going to deflate like a balloon when no one’s looking.
Robbin is silent for a long time before he asks, “She’s really ours?”
Brittany explains it in a way I never could. “Yes, Victoria will always be your sister. But all of you will also be hers because you’re her brothers. That’s how family works. We all belong to each other.”
I ask, “Do you all want to run around the park or stay here and visit with your sister?”
Robbin speaks up for everyone. “We’re stayin’. Always stayin’.”
As we sit together and talk, the sun rises high in the sky. For once, my boys aren’t jumping all over the place, being a handful. Right now, they’re calmer and more introspective. They truly seem to understand what a gift this new baby is. I know it’s just the newness of the situation, and it won’t last forever, but I’ll take what I can get when it comes to my boys.
Seeing them like this, and their easy understanding of this new situation makes me think about the baby Gina’s carrying. My boys haven’t mentioned anything about their soon-to-be brother or sister. Something about that strikes me as weird, but my ex is never gonna be mom of the year. I decide not to ask them anything, because it’s only gonna confuse matters today and spoil the good mood.
At some point, it hits me—this feels more like family than anything I’ve ever known. And I’m not about to give it up without a fight, no matter what Gina tries to fuck things up.
Watching my boys warm up to Brittany makes me believe that if my club and I can manage to protect her, she’ll not only be the missing piece of my heart but the guiding light that brings my family together.
At one time, I had wished that of my ex, but all she ever cared about was chasing after her sister’s husband. Now, Clara is with Tex, and I’m with Brittany. In my humble opinion, this is the best thing for everyone. Even now, my ex doesn’t really want me back. She just wants a placeholder—someone to pay her bills until something better comes along. I’m tired of being a placeholder. Fuck that shit. I’m ready to be loved back and respected for what I bring to the table.
Only when our stomachs start rumbling do we load up and go looking for a restaurant.
***
We end up at our favorite diner on the outskirts of town. The boys all pile out of the car, and Jack runs around the SUV to open Brittany’s door. He’s never been so considerate before. I don’t know what he’s doing, but he even takes her hand and leads her back around to the driver’s side, where I’m removing Vic from her car seat. Roan grabs both diaper bags, and the little ones pout because they weren’t quick enough to help. When we near the restaurant, Robbin bolts ahead and opens the door for all of us, smiling up at Brittany when she walks by. Being the sweet person she is, Brittany can’t resist stroking his little cheek. He marches behind us with a grin on his face, and I’ve got to admit that I’ve never been prouder of my boys than I am right now.
Now, I’m not stupid. I know this behavior will wear off over time, but I’m gonna enjoy it while I can. My boys love this place because the inside has about twenty neon signs, a jukebox, and a waitress that fawns over them. The scent of burgers and fries hangs heavy in the air, spiking my hunger.
Our favorite waitress is a middle-aged woman with her hair tied back and a frilly pink apron. She’s almost grandmotherly. Sure enough, the kids get excited when she comes out with our favorite drinks and snacks. Marla’s face lights up when she sees we have new people with us. “Oh my, I noticed the boys were on their best behavior today, and now I know why. You have womenfolk in tow.”
The boys all take turns telling her about their new little sister. “Well now, that’s great news for your little family, Wade.” She takes a few minutes to make nice with Brittany and then takes our order.
When she walks away, Brittany tells us, “Marla is amazing. If the food is as good as she is, this will be my new favorite restaurant.”
At one point, before our food is ready, the baby gets hungry again, and Brittany does her thing. It must be hard feeding a baby every two to three hours around the clock. She’s super discreet, and the boys are too excited about burgers to care what she’s doing. They beg for money for the jukebox and elbow each other out of the way to pick songs. I call out, “You each only get one song, so quit fightin’.”
They come racing back to the table with big smiles on their faces, and I realize they’ve chosen a rock ballad for their first song. Brittany gets emotional at their kindhearted gesture. Oh man, I get the feeling my boys are gonna be great big brothers.
Jack explains, “We weren’t fighting with each other over hogging songs. We were fighting about which songs were for babies. This was the only one, so we all chose it.”
Robbin holds up four fingers. “Same song four times. It’s gonna be great.”
Before I can tell them how proud I am, some old man comes in and ruins the mood.
We hear him complaining under his breath. “Womenfolk have no shame. They need to feed their young’uns somewhere private.”
Brittany actually cringes, her face turning red with embarrassment at being spoken to like that by a stranger. My boys don’t like that at all.
Jack shouts, “Leave her alone. She just being a mom.”
I try to calm them down. “Come on, leave the old geezer alone. He’s entitled to have an opinion even if we don’t agree with it. Freedom of speech and all that.” Meanwhile, I’m giving him a death glare.
Marla comes out of the back with a to-go bag in her hand, taking in the scene for a second before stating casually, “You out here making friends and influencing people again, Arnie?”
She hands him his food, and he snatches the bag from her hand. “Women with their breasts out in public, it should be against the damn law. Back in my day they’d do that kind of thing behind closed doors.”
Jack sneers at the old man, “When was that, in the stone age?”
I bite my lip to try to keep from laughing. I know I should chastise him for being rude, but that asshole deserves it.
The old man whirls around to complain, but when I rise up from my chair, he rushes out the front door instead. I tell Marla, “Sorry if my boys made a scene.”
She just grins. “Are you kidding me? Witnessing this was the highlight of my day. That old buzzard has needed a good telling off for a while now. I like how your boys are speaking their minds. Most of the adults here tend to look over his deplorable behavior.”
I sit back down in my seat and say brightly, “That’s my boys. They go where angels fear to tread.”