by Tara Sivec
“Honey, go pick out another book,” he told her calmly as he hid the book behind his back.
“But I want that one, it’s got horses in it,” she argued.
“Well, you can’t read that one. That’s a big person book. It’s not for kids.”
Finley rolled her eyes and huffed, handing him the other book she brought over with her, “Poop Eaters”.
This time, her father was the one to roll his eyes. “Poop Eaters”? Again? Really, Finley. You need to find another hobby.”
“She’s got this thing about poop,” he told me as he took the book from her. “When she was little, she used to finger-paint her room with the poop in her diaper.”
He chuckled at the memory and I covered my mouth with my hand to keep the vomit inside. I stared at the little girl’s hands expecting to see it covered in shit.
“A few times when we were at the park she would run up to me and say she had a present for me. She’d hold out her hand and it would be filled with cat poop she found in the sand box. Ahhhh, good times,” he said with a bob of his head.
A few times? This happened more than once? Poop finger-painting? Poop presents? Shouldn't kids be born with the knowledge that you never touch poop? Is Gavin aware that this is a rule no one should ever break?
I looked over at him rummaging through a box of books someone placed next to the reading circle and wondered if he would find poop in there and bring it to me. What if he tried to finger-paint me with it? I’d scream. And you can’t scream in the library. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO???
"So yeah, good luck with the whole father thing, dude," the man said to me as he stood up to leave.
I sat there on the couch trying to stop the panic attack I was pretty sure I was having. I need a paper bag to breathe into. Why the fuck didn't I bring a paper bag? Oh Jesus. Poop hands. POOP HANDS!
"Carter! Hey, Carter!" Gavin shouted as he ran towards me and several other adults shushed him.
I stared at his hands, praying to God there wasn't shit on them. How would I explain to Claire that I made our son walk home from the library because I didn't want shitty hand prints inside my car? I winced as he raced towards me, bracing myself for a shit pie to the face or a shit ball to the arm. He was running so fast he couldn't stop himself in time and he slammed into my legs with an "Oomph."
Oh fuck, please let there not be shit on my legs right now.
As soon as he hit my legs, he scrambled up onto my lap, careful not to drop whatever was clutched in his hand. One can never be too careful with a handful of shit, obviously.
He put his knees on my thighs and I felt him crawl up onto my lap. My eyes were squeezed so tightly closed that I was giving myself a headache.
Oh sweet Jesus. Here it comes. A shit sandwich. He's going to make me pretend to eat it like kids do when they make you a Play-Doh cookie. The term "shiteating grin" will finally have meaning in my life.
"I got you sumfin' Carter. Guess which hand?" he said excitedly.
Oh, God, please don't make me choose. It will always be the hand without shit in it.
Gavin quickly grew impatient with my silence. "Come on, Carter, open your eyes. Don't be a wuss."
I swallowed nervously, trying to think of all the ways to disinfect shit from your skin.
Does bleach burn? Probably after I took a layer of skin off with sandpaper, it would. I slowly opened one eye at a time until I could see that Gavin had his arms behind his back.
“Come on, pick one of my arms and see what I gots,” he said excitedly.
"Gee, I guess I'll pick that hand," I said unenthusiastically as I tapped his right arm.
Good-bye clean, shitless skin. I'll remember you fondly.
Gavin bounced up and down on my thighs and swung his right arm around in front of him.
"You picked the right one! Here ya go!" he said excitedly.
I looked down nervously and breathed a deep sigh of relief when I saw what was in his hand.
A book. A beautiful, crisp, brand new library book. Not a book covered in shit, or a book made out of shit. Just a book. The title read “Come on Get Happy!”
I took it from his little hand and held it up in the air to look at the picture of puppies frolicking in a field on the front cover.
"This is a pretty awesome book. How come you picked this one?" I asked him as he put the hand that used to hold the book up on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.
"Because I like you. And Mommy says it’s nice to do things that make people happy. I want you to be happy."
All I could do was sit there and stare at him. I got it now. I got why Claire hadn't crumbled when she found out she was pregnant, why she dropped out of college and gave up everything for this little boy. I suddenly realized that my heart was sitting there on my lap and even though I wasn't here for the first four years of his life, I loved him unconditionally simply because he was mine. He was a part of me. I knew without a doubt, I would give my life to make sure he was safe. I wrapped my arms around his little body, hoping he didn't still think of me as a stranger and would let me hug him.
He leaned into me without hesitation and I rested my forehead against his.
"Buddy, I am already the happiest guy in the world," I told him softly.
Gavin stared at me for a few minutes and then pulled his other arm out from behind his back. “Good, then after you read that one, you can read this one.
I pulled away from him and glanced down in his hand at a book titled “The Vagina Monologues”.
***
After we left the library, I took Gavin to get ice cream and then we headed back to Claire’s house. True to form, Gavin talked the whole way home and I started to wonder if he was like a record player that was skipping and maybe I needed to smack the side of him to get him to stop.
I resisted the urge. Barely.
When we got back to the house, I sat down on the couch and Gavin grabbed a photo album from one of the end table drawers and curled up on my lap with it. He flipped through all of the pages, explaining each picture to me. I saw every single birthday, Christmas, Halloween and everything in between that I missed, and with Gavin's commentary about each event, it almost felt like I had been there.
I also learned quite a few things about Claire. Like the fact she has cousin she can't stand.
"That's Heather. She's mommy's cousin. Mommy says she's a whore," Gavin said, pointing at the group photo that looked like it was taken at some sort of family reunion.
I also learned that Gavin seemed to have a penchant for squirting things all over the house, showcased by at least five pages in the photo album. I guess I should have taken a picture of the toothpaste incident a few weeks ago.
"Gavin, how come there are so many pictures of you making messes?" I asked as I flipped to the next page that showed a picture of him sitting on the kitchen floor in a pile of coffee grounds, cereal, oatmeal and what looked like syrup. "I hope you cleaned up all this stuff for mommy."
"Cleaning is ridiculous," he replied.
Considering the current state of my own home, I couldn't really argue that fact.
We continued to look at the rest of the pictures in that album and four others before I noticed that Gavin was unusually quiet on my lap. I glanced down and saw that he had fallen asleep sitting up. I awkwardly scooped my hands under his legs and carried him to his room exactly how he fell asleep - with his back against my chest and his legs dangling down off of my hands. I knew there was some sort of rule about "never wake a sleeping baby" and I figured that had to apply to toddlers as well since they could get into much more trouble than a baby.
After getting him tucked into bed, I came back out into the living room and relaxed on the couch. I turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until I found something to watch. An hour later, right when I started to doze off, my phone buzzed for probably the tenth time since I left the house earlier with Gavin. I smiled as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, knowing it would be Claire again.
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How's it going? Is everything ok? ~ Claire
I couldn't even be offended that she was so worried. It was understandable. Surprisingly, being alone with Gavin wasn't bad at all. He was really well behaved, better than any child I had ever been around.
Perfect. Gavin just got his first lap dance. He’s hopped up on Red Bull and
crack right now and I found out he doesn't like whiskey. ~Carter
I laughed to myself and hit send. My phone buzzed immediately with her reply, like I knew it would.
I hope you at least sprang for the hot chick and not some butter face with VD.
And your son prefers vodka, like his mother. ~Claire
My laugh at her reply was so loud I glanced down the hall to make sure it didn't wake Gavin. I quickly typed a reply back. Even though she made a joke, I knew without a doubt she was masking a tiny bit of fear.
Everything is fine, Mom. Same as it was five minutes ago when you asked ;) ~Carter
My phone buzzed not five seconds later.
Oh shut up! It's not him I'm worried about. I was afraid you were duct taped to
a chair or had your head shaved by now. ~Claire
The doorbell rang and as I got up to find out who it was, I quickly sent off another text letting her know that our son was not able to overpower me.
Yet.
I opened the door to find Drew standing there with a box in his hands.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
Drew pushed past me into the house.
"Nice to see you too, pig fucker. I've got all of Claire’s flyers, brochures and whatever other shit Jenny was doing for her. She asked me to drop them off here for her. What are you doing here? And why are you still wearing the same clothes from last night? Did you finally bump uglies with your MILF?"
I took the box out of his hand and rolled my eyes at him.
"Will you shut up already, dick? Gavin is sleeping."
Drew looked past me towards Gavin's room.
"Good, I've got a present for the little spawn," he said with a smile as he pulled a shirt out of his back pocket. He held it up in front of me and all I could do was shake my head.
"You didn't. Oh my God, Claire is going to kill you," I told him.
I looked down at my watch, realizing that Gavin had been out for quite a while.
"Hey, how long do kids sleep?" I asked.
"You're asking me? How the fuck should I know? When was the last time you checked on him?"
I looked at him blankly.
Shit, I was supposed to check on him? He was asleep. What the hell could happen while he was asleep?
I turned and ran down the hall to Gavin's room with Drew right on my heels.
"Shit! Oh fucking shit."
Gavin's bed was empty, the covers thrown back like he woke up and flung them off.
I charged into the room, looking behind the door, under the bed and in the closet.
"Oh, Jesus. I lost him. I already fucking lost him!" I yelled in panic as I rummaged through his closet and pulled out a stuffed clown from the bottom of the pile.
Didn't that kid from Poltergeist get sucked into his closet by an evil clown? Shit!
"You didn't lose him. It's not like he could have gotten far. There's only one way out of this house and he would have had to walk right past you to get to it."
Drew walked out of the bedroom while I stood there trying not to cry as I choked the fuck out of the stupid clown that took my kid.
Claire was going to hate me. Our son was sucked into the pits of hell while I was watching General Hospital. God damn you, Brenda and Sonny for making me lose focus.
What if he crawled into the ventilation and passed out somewhere in the walls? Oh my God, he could have gotten into the fridge and suffocated. Didn't they tell you to put rope around your fridge? Or wait, that was just when you put it out to the curb, wasn't it?
Fuck! I didn't know anything!
"Carter! I found him!" Drew yelled from down the hall.
I raced out of Gavin's room and down the hall, finding Drew standing in the doorway of the bathroom laughing his ass off.
"What the hell are you laughing about?" I asked angrily as I pushed passed him.
And then I saw it.
Gavin, sitting on the edge of the sink with white shit all over his face.
"Gavin, what did you get all over your face? Is that Mommy's make-up?"
He shook his head.
"Nope, it's this," he said, handing me the empty tube.
I took it from him and looked down. Diaper rash cream. My son put diaper rash cream all over his face. And when I say all over his face, I mean it. Practically every surface was covered, including his lips.
Drew came up behind me and looked over my shoulder.
"Dude, he put ass cream on his face. You do know I'm going to have to start calling your son Ass Face now, right?" Drew laughed.
"Shut up, dicky," Gavin told him.
"You shut up. You're the one with the ass face," Drew retorted.
I got a washcloth out of the linen closet and ran it under the sink.
"Both of you shut it and quit arguing," I told them as I started to scrub the white shit off of Gavin's face. What the fuck do they make this stuff out of, cement? It's like it's been spackled on. And why does this towel smell like mint?
The white goo was starting to come off, but in its place was now blue goo. What the…?
I held up the towel and noticed it was full of whatever this blue stuff was. I brought it up to my nose and smelled it.
"There's toothpaste on this towel," I muttered.
Drew reached into the linen closet to grab me another one.
"Eeeew, what the fuck?" he said, dropping the towel on the ground.
I looked at his hands and they were covered with toothpaste. I walked back to the closet and picked up a few of the towels. Each one was smeared with toothpaste. And stuck way in the back corner of one of the shelves was the empty tube.
I turned back around to face Gavin.
"Why did you put toothpaste all over everything?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
I managed to find a clean towel at the bottom of the pile on one of the shelves and got Gavin cleaned up. Drew took him to play in his room while I cleaned up the toothpaste and diaper rash cream mess and put all of the minty-fresh towels into the wash. I was walking past the front door after I started the washing machine when Claire walked in.
"Honey, you're home," I said with a smile.
She laughed and came up to me, snaking her arms around my waist.
"Would I sound really girly if I told you how awesome it is to walk in the door and see you here?" she asked.
I kissed the tip of her nose.
"Yeah, you'd totally sound like a needy chick. Just don't start getting clingy otherwise it's going to get really awkward."
She smacked my chest and rolled her eyes at me.
"I'm pretty sure you might like my kind of clingy," she said with a smirk as she brought her hips up against mine. I put my hands on her waist and rubbed her against the hard-on I had since she walked in the door.
"I think you might be right, Miss Morgan," I said, as I leaned forward to kiss her.
"Get your hands off my woman!"
I pulled my lips away from Claire’s and we both laughed at the sound of Gavin's angry rant.
"Gavin, what are you wearing?" Claire asked as she stepped out of my arms and walked over to him.
Drew walked up behind him and smiled.
"Hey there, hot stuff! Like the shirt I got him?"
Gavin stood there proudly, pulling the hem of his shirt down so Claire could read it.
"Hung like a five-year-old?" she read, giving Drew the evil eye.
"I could have got him one like mine. They had it in his size," Drew said.
I think we can all say the shirt Gavin was wearing was a lot better than having one on that said, "Stare at me in disgust if you want to blow me".<
br />
Claire kicked Drew out, after thanking him for dropping off her stuff from Jenny, and decided to let Gavin keep the shirt on because, let’s be honest, it was just too funny to take off of him. I was nowhere near ready to leave Claire and Gavin yet, but I needed a shower and some clean clothes. Since Claire worked all day, I invited her and Gavin over to my place for dinner. And I told her to pack a bag for both of them.
***
I was frantically racing around my bedroom trying to find something to wear that said, "I want to bang your brains out after our kid goes to sleep but I don’t want to look too slutty or desperate". I washed and conditioned my hair three times, shaved my legs twice and put on enough lotion that Carter might be able to just borrow my legs the next time he wanted to jerk off. I stood by my dresser, holding up a pair of white lace thongs and tried to keep my towel wrapped around me by squeezing my arms against the sides of my boobs. I threw the white underwear back in the drawer. White was for virgins. I didn't want to be a virgin. I wanted to be a freak, a freaky hot chick that wore slutty red underwear. But not too slutty.
My cell phone rang and I struggled with the towel as I pawed through my dresser and reached for the phone. I answered it and held it against my ear with my shoulder.
"Wear the low-rise, red, lace boy shorts with the matching push-up bra."
"Liz, what the fuck? How do you...I didn't..." I stammered into the phone.
She let out a dramatic sigh.
"Well, crotch rot, since you weren't going to tell me you'd be riding the Carter Express tonight, I had to find out elsewhere."
"Liz, I just found out thirty minutes ago. I was going to call you, I swear. How the fuck do you know anyway?"
"Oh, Jim ran into Carter buying condoms at the grocery store - extra small. I didn't realize they made them in children's sizes."
"Ha ha, very funny, thunder cunt," I replied sarcastically. "Speaking of giant vaginas, I haven’t gotten any butt dials from you lately. Has Jim taken a break from spelunking in your bottomless pit lately?"
Gavin walked into my room then with his Toy Story backpack on. He was very excited at the idea of having a sleepover at Carter’s house. He argued with me that he could pack his own bag. I'd have to sneak a look into it when he was busy. The last time he went to my dad's, he packed one dirty sock, eight stuffed animals and a plastic fork.
