The Foster Dad

by Christopher X Sullivan

  “Babe, you never get up early enough. And I don’t do that anymore.”

  “Wake me up. I want you to write about our day.”

  “You just want to read about me fucking you.”

  “Fuck yeah I do! We should’ve set up some cameras. Fuck, that was hot.”

  “What is with you and seeing yourself all the time? I hate being in pictures. How many times do you take pictures of me while I’m sleeping?”

  He sighed to show he was done talking about this subject.

  “You probably have a secret porn collection that is just of me sleeping.”

  “You’re probably right,” he admitted softly.

  “Gah. How did I ever think you were normal?”

  “Sorry?” he offered. Then he tossed his arm around my waist and curled into the big spoon position.

  “Apology accepted. I’m beginning to think nobody is really normal.”

  “Not if they’re any fun.” He kissed my shoulder, just to prove that he could break my moratorium on his kisses. He reeked of mouthwash. Then we fell asleep—him before me, which was so strange that I was tempted to steal his phone and take a video of him sleeping as a joke.

  But I was tired and needed to save all my energy for the next day. We felt like that every night we cared for Alex.

  So I’m writing about us in the morning? I can probably write about Alex. He was effing cute today.

  Camping

  MARK AND I SET UP THE tent we’d loaned from my uncle. It was big enough to hold two blow-up queen mattresses.

  “Now this is a tent,” I boasted.

  “This is so not a tent,” Mark complained.

  “Shut it. You can sleep in the trailer with Keegan and Denise.”

  “No, no, no. I like camping.” Mark glanced over his shoulder at Caleb and Alex as they tried to start a fire. Then my man sighed, longingly.

  “Let them do it,” I said. “We still have to attach the top canvas in case it rains.”

  Mark grumbled, then got back to work with me. Midway through, Gabby walked up to us and asked if we needed any help. I set her up with the first air mattress and she had it done by the time Mark and I finished assembling the tent.

  “That was a fucking nightmare,” Mark complained.

  Gabby giggled from inside the tent and I gave Mark the evil eye.

  “Those are adult words, Gabby. Not for you to use.”

  “I know, Uncle Mark.”

  I relieved Gabby from her attempts to set up the smaller, taller air mattress that Alex would be using. “You did good. Can you help your brother start the fire?”

  “He doesn’t want my help. He does this in Boy Scouts all the time.”

  “Really?” I looked out the screen window at the two boys. Mark was on the other side of the site emptying our bags out of the car. “Seems they’re having trouble. Mark has a lighter in his camping gear. Go get it and help them out.”

  “They won’t let me.”

  “If they don’t let you use the fire starter, come get me and I’ll set them straight.”

  She galloped away from our tent to pester her uncle. I started blowing up the second mattress, which came with this ungodly loud motor. Later, Mark entered our tent and threw our bags on one side of the queen mattress and our bedding on the other.

  “Finally, some alone time,” he said.

  “Watch it, mister.” I swatted his hands away. “Get Alex’s stuff.”

  “Alex can get his own damn stuff.” Mark collapsed on our pillows. “Why the fuck did you pack so much?”

  “Because we’re camping. And the weather could get cold.”

  “My God. Remember when we used to hike together?”

  “You mean like a few months ago?”

  “Yeah. All our stuff had to fit on our backs and that was it. What we’re doing now isn’t really camping at all. We’re glamping.”

  “Please. We’re in a tent without electricity—”

  “Yet you’re using a motor to blow up these cushy mattresses?”

  “Only because your brother has an outlet and said we could use it. They’re the glampers.”

  “We might as well have brought our own extension cord. Just look at all these people parking their cars on their paved campsites. Yuck.”

  “Dudebro, we can’t take Alex mountain climbing.”

  “OhmyGod,” Mark said, suddenly breathless. “When do you think we can do that? How young is too young?”

  “You were thirteen when your brother—”

  “I could have done it earlier. I was ready way earlier. I bet Caleb can probably go on a wilderness hike with us this year. He seems mature enough.”

  I raised my eyebrows at that because we had spent the past couple minutes listening to childish shouts of glee coming from the fire pit. I flopped onto the mattress next to Mark and my sticky arms rubbed against his bare chest.

  “Are you getting his stuff or not?”

  “Or not.” Mark placed his arm over me protectively. “And neither are you.”

  I sighed. “Alex! Get your stuff out of the car!”

  His little voice yelled back to us and we heard two pairs of feet running to the car.

  “He and Caleb seem to be thick as thieves already,” Mark noted. “I love camping.”

  “Thought you hated all this cushy stuff. Thought you hated all my bags and all the bedding.”

  “You’re right... I hate it. But...” He pressed down into the air mattress. “If the bed loses air in the middle of the night and brings my beautiful baby closer to me...”

  “Yuck. Quit with this ‘beautiful baby’ crap.”

  “Bah. You know you love it.” He gave me little kisses on my shoulder and neck, which made me squirm because I was so ticklish. Mark tried to undress me. “Take off your shirt. Camping is for getting a good tan.”

  “I’m plenty tan without—”

  “Got my bag!” Alex said from outside the screen door. “Can somebody open the tent for me?”

  “Do it yourself,” Mark grumbled.

  I swatted Mark on the arm and rolled out of his grasp. “I’ll help. How’s it going out there?”

  “We started a fire and everything.” Alex walked into our tent and dropped his bag in the very center of our walkway.

  “That stuff goes on your bed.” I pointed to his mattress.

  “Otay.”

  Caleb followed Alex into our tent and was carrying Alex’s blankets and pillow. “Wow,” he said. “This tent is big!”

  “We used this same tent a couple years ago... remember? We only had the one air mattress, though. So we had all that room over there to play games. And you and Gabby spent one night with us.”

  “Can we play games again?” Caleb asked. “Did you bring your cards?”

  “I brought my cards.”

  “Did you bring Sequence?”

  “I brought Sequence.”

  “Did you bring Monopoly?”

  “I brought—”

  “He brought everything!” Mark yelled suddenly. “He packed the whole... dang apartment.”

  “But only one bottle of mouthwash,” I pointed out.

  “Bullshit. You squirreled away more... somewhere.”

  I widened my eyes after Mark cursed.

  “Sorry, boys. That was an adult word. Not for you to use.”

  “I know, Uncle Mark.” Caleb grinned like he was in on a big secret. “I won’t tell Mommy.”

  “I knew I liked you,” Mark teased.

  “Where’s Gabby?” I asked. “She said she was going to help you with the fire.”

  “She brought us the fire starter,” Caleb answered. He made it all sound so innocent. “Dad doesn’t let us use his.”

  Hmm. I followed up my first question. “Did Gabby help you start the fire?”

  “No. She didn’t want to.”

  “She shared the fire starter with us,” Alex chimed in. “So we could do it.”

  “Oh. I see.” But I didn’t see. Alex noticed my f
rown right away and started stuttering. He never was very good when I went on an inquisition. “What’s wrong, Alex?”

  “It’s good to share,” the kid said. “We were just sharing and Caleb likes to start the fire and I helped him set up the sticks and now it’s burning very hot so we can’t touch it.”

  “Is it? Did Gabby want to start the fire with you?”

  “Yes,” Alex answered.

  “Why didn’t you let her?”

  “Caleb wanted to—”

  “She didn’t know how to do it right,” Caleb interrupted. “And she was ruining all the hard work we did setting it up.”

  “I see.”

  Alex tried to save them both from getting in trouble, but it was too little, too late. “Gabby can start the next fire,” he promised. “And I’ll help her and I really like starting the fire and it was a lot of fun.”

  “Was it?” It was typical of Alex to add three or four thoughts into a single sentence when he knew he was about to get in trouble. He was either trying to run out the clock, distract us, or hope that he was clever enough to solve the problem.

  Unfortunately for him, he was a kid and all kids live in the present, which is why they’re always asking when we’re going to get there and why things aren’t done right now.

  “It was Gabby’s fire starter,” I stated. “She was supposed to use it.”

  “She doesn’t know how to use it right,” Caleb argued. “She does it wrong all the time.”

  “Uncle Mark could’ve helped her. Isn’t that right, Uncle Mark?”

  “Uncle Mark is staying out of this one.” Mark grunted as my elbow innocently pressed into his guts. Then he added, “You need to be nicer to your sister. She looks out for you. Don’t be mean to her.”

  “I’m not mean to her!”

  “Okay... well, don’t do it again.” Mark’s punishment was lame. He was so much more forceful with Alex when we were in our apartment, but since Caleb was in the mix, he didn’t want to act like the ‘mean uncle’.

  Fine. I’ll be the mean one.

  “If you’re mean to your sister again on this camping trip, we won’t go bike riding with you.”

  “Nooo...” Caleb wailed immediately. “I didn’t mean to, Uncle Chris. I swear.”

  “You didn’t mean to? I believe you. But if we play games tonight, you better make sure Gabby is invited.” And clever use of ‘uncle’... but you won’t soften me that easily!

  “She will! She loves playing games!”

  “Good. Now go out and make sure the fire is still going. Mark and I are going to set up the beds, then we’ll take a quick bike ride down to the Lake.”

  Caleb bolted out of the tent like he had gotten away with murder. Alex was slower to leave and he had his head down.

  “What’s wrong, buddy?” Mark asked.

  I turned my back on them and started setting up the queen mattress.

  “Is Gabby mad at us?” he asked.

  “Did she seem upset?” Mark knelt down to Alex’s level. “Alex... did she look like she was gonna cry?” The kid must have nodded because then Mark said, “Why don’t we go look for her and make sure she feels better? Maybe we can play ball with her?”

  “Does she play baseball?”

  “She plays softball in the spring, but I think she’s practicing soccer right now. Do you want to kick a soccer ball?” Alex must have shook his head because then... “I’ll teach you how. Maybe Gabby can teach us both how to kick the right way.”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll leave Chris in here to set up the beds in just the right way.”

  I shot Mark a dark look, saw that Alex had his back to me, then flipped Mark the bird. He winked, then shrugged while pointing to Alex as if this excused him from his camp duties.

  “Otay,” Alex agreed, then he remembered our agreement that he would pack his own bag and clean his own bed. “But maybe you can help me make my bed first?”

  Mark sighed and rolled his eyes. “Sure thing, mini-Chris. Sure thing.” My partner’s shoulders dropped while Alex’s seemed to perk up. Alex really enjoyed telling Mark what to do, which brought a happy smile to my face.

  Mark threw the bed together in a huge mess, then they fled the tent in search of Gabby. I tidied up the sheets and made sure his bed was ready for later.

  Denise popped her head in our tent. “Hey stranger.”

  “Just unpacking everything.”

  “The boys went for a walk. Just you and me here.”

  “Finally, I can relax.” I pulled out my typing stuff. Mark forced me to leave the work stuff at home, but I had a hidden internet hotspot if I really needed to sneak away and look over some documents.

  She laughed at me. “I heard you weren’t allowed any of that?”

  “Mark can make me do a lot of things... but I’m always going to have a keyboard with me.”

  I set up my typing station near the fire and Denise sat next to me with a big, fat paperback romance novel.

  “Is my typing bothering you?” I asked after a few minutes.

  “I’m getting you a quiet keyboard for Christmas.”

  “You can try, but I keep coming back to this one. There’s something about it. The weight is perfect, though it does get sticky on my legs when it’s this humid. And the finger spacing is perfect. You don’t find many portable keyboards with this layout.”

  “Mmm.”

  “The only bad thing is it clacks like hell.”

  “Don’t let Caleb hear you say that. That kid cussed at me the other day.”

  “Did you wash his mouth out with soap?”

  “Nah. Grounded him from the internet. Shut off his phone for a few days. He nearly died.”

  “He has a phone? Like... a smartphone?”

  “Chris... what decade do you think it is? Of course he has a smartphone.”

  I was a huge proponent of internet connectivity, but the idea of a nine-year-old child having unfettered access to the internet left a bad feeling in my stomach. “Do you... like... monitor him or something?”

  “Sure do. It blocks the bad sites and we talk to him about the existence of adult sites that he shouldn’t worry about until he’s older.”

  As if! Keegan is okay with this? Do you know Mark at all? If Mark had access to this as a child, he probably would’ve pressured one of the geeks in school to get him around the parental controls within a week!

  “I trust my kids,” she added.

  “That’s insane.” Hearing about Caleb’s smartphone had me so alarmed that I couldn’t get into my writing. “Does he do social media?”

  “He has an Instagram.”

  “Holy shit. He’s nine years old!”

  Denise placed a bookmark where she was reading and closed her book. “Chris... all his friends have one. They talk to themselves. It’s just a part of school nowadays.”

  “Not where I grew up. You realize these social media sites have it in their TOS that you have to be older than thirteen?”

  She made another helpless gesture.

  “You realize your kids aren’t old enough to be completely aware when they post public material and private.” This was making me mad. “I don’t let Mark post pictures of me on his account. He no longer posts pictures from near our house or in his main gym. He really only posts things when we go on trips and I’m not even comfortable with that!”

  Denise got frosty with me, but I wasn’t about to let her off the hook.

  “There’s this guy with a foot fetish who always comments on any picture Mark posts with a foot in the frame. Swear to God.” I held my hand up as if I were under oath. “Is Mark friends with Caleb? Has Caleb posted on Mark’s page?”

  “Probably.” She opened her book again and ended the conversation.

  Probably... my ass. This shit is insane!

  I unearthed my hidden Wi-Fi hotspot, activated it and logged on to a burner social media account. It took less than five minutes of searching through Mark’s posts using the ‘find’ fu
nction to highlight his comments when I found what I was looking for: Mark’s response to Caleb giving him a winky face emoji.

  Caleb’s profile was private. He had thirty-two friends and his profile picture was his face with a goofy filter obscuring most of his identifying features.

  It took me a minute to find a reference to Gabby on Mark’s social media posts. She had an easily identifiable profile picture, forty-two friends and a quote from Dumbledore on the top of her page.

  This was so fucking stressful. When Mark got back from his little trip to the Lake or wherever the kids had gone off to, we were going to have a flip through his niece and nephew’s social media accounts.

  Not that I was a stalker. But this was freaky. It just... freaked me out.

  Alex knows how much social media upsets me. I don’t think he really understands why I have so many rules about it, but he knows that if he breaks them, I will break his phone. He won’t have a phone ever again. If he were to disrespect me by breaking my rules of safe internet use, I might not like to punish him, but he’d feel the brunt of my anger then. No amount of wailing or equivocation would save his phone. Mark would not be able to save him either... though he has in the past for other infractions.

  Public-facing social media accounts are the easiest way to synch ‘anonymized analytics’ back to real people. I probably shouldn’t mention this in this self-portrait, but when I tracked down my nemesis, I used ‘anonymous’ analytics to synch his social media posts with data that a researcher friend of mine worked with.

  It was unethical on my part.

  It was extremely easy and only took a basic understanding of how to operate a database. Even Mark could’ve done it. I’ve never told him about this little adventure to the dark side because I don’t really want to tell him the real reason why I stopped wanting to go to Miami. It wasn’t because we have a son. It’s because Greg is there.

  Greg, the imbecile who basically raped Mark’s sister. Greg, the douche who had wormed his way into Mark’s circle of friends through the use of flattery and all kinds of cunning manipulations. Greg, whom I should have booted the minute I had an uneasy feeling about him. Greg, who slipped an unknown drug (probably rufilin) into my drink while I was partying with Mark.

  That Greg.

  Yes, I kept tabs on him. Yes, I used unethical means to track down his dirty secrets. I knew one of his secrets. All because of supposedly anonymous data.