The Foster Dad

by Christopher X Sullivan

  And Marty was getting slapped with water balloons.

  “Look at them,” Stacy said. “Goofs.”

  Suhail traded seats so he could sit next to me. “Good party?” he asked.

  “The best. You really got me.”

  Suhail raised an eyebrow. “You gave me The Look,” he said. He sipped his drink, then let the silence grow between us.

  “I got the truth out of Mark.” Seduced him. “He’s weak.”

  “He is.”

  “He told me this was all your idea.”

  “Actually, it was yours. You brought it up a couple months ago about wanting to throw Alex some kind of party.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah. One day at work when you brought him in for the afternoon.”

  “I don’t remember.” Which day was that? I must have talked about Alex a lot because the days have all blended together. “I’m surprised you didn’t crack. Here I truly believed you weren’t in on the secret.”

  “You almost had me,” he admitted. “I was about two seconds away from cracking, but I kept seeing Melanie’s angry face.”

  “If it’s anything like Mark’s, how did you stop yourself from laughing?”

  “Funny,” he said. He took another sip. “How’d you get Mark to cave? He’s the one who insisted it stay a surprise.”

  “I enticed him with my ass.”

  Suhail sprayed his drink and took a gasp of air. Stacy and Amber turned around to look at us. “Wasn’t expecting that,” he said.

  “What’s going on back there?” Stacy asked.

  “Nothing. Just having fun. Laughing at Mark.”

  “Alex has him wrapped around his little finger,” Amber cooed. “Look at them. He has Marty out there, too.”

  The kids had settled down and were picking up the broken balloons. Then they retreated to the sandbox and the adults joined us on the porch. Mark, in particular, seemed very satisfied.

  “Who needs a pool when you have water balloons?” Tim asked.

  Melanie grinned and sat on Suhail’s lap. “It was fun,” she said.

  “You’re soaked,” Suhail complained. They kissed even though they were practically falling onto me. I left them to their shenanigans and scooted Mark half off his seat so I could join him.

  “Put a shirt on,” I said.

  “All muscle.” He flexed for my benefit.

  “Look at that tubby tummy.” I slapped his hairy abs.

  “You love it.”

  “You used to be ripped. And less furry.”

  “You love my man-fur. Admit it.”

  Stacy made a gagging sound.

  “He’s so embarrassing,” I said to the ladies. “Wasn’t he better looking before he let his hair grow out?”

  Amber nodded gamely.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Mark threatened. “I think he’s drunk.”

  “Haven’t had anything in the last hour.”

  “You love my man-fur. Say it. Come on, pussy. Say it.”

  “Quit.” I shoved his arm from around my shoulder.

  Melanie had stopped making out with Suhail to watch us. Actually, everyone was watching for my reaction.

  “It’s my birthday and you shouldn’t antagonize me.”

  “Antagonize? Who would be brave enough to do that to you?”

  I shoved him again.

  “Me?” he asked with mock surprise. “Tell the ladies what you said to me last winter about my chest hair.”

  “At least you stopped calling it man-fur.”

  “Tell ‘em what you said about my man-fur.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Say it.”

  “No!”

  He wrestled his arm around my neck and rubbed his knuckles through my hair. “Come on, tough guy. Tell ‘em what you really think about my chest hair. Don’t lie!”

  “Where is this coming—”

  “Don’t divert!”

  “I’m not saying—”

  “Just tell ‘em!”

  “Quit pushing me—”

  “Quit deflecting.”

  “You’re going to be in so much—”

  He tickled me without any compassion so that I fell off our shared seat and plummeted to the ground.

  “Not funny,” I complained. My ass hurt from the fall.

  “Tell them. I’ve had enough of you making fun of my chest hair. Tell them what you told me!”

  “Okay, fine!” I got to my feet and pressed the wrinkles out of my shirt. “I’ve gotten used to the chest hair and it would look weird to see you without it. Are you happy now?”

  “Yes.” Mark reclined in his chair like he had won a huge battle or something, but he hadn’t won any real concession from me—I never said I actually liked it, just that I’d gotten used to it.

  “You shouldn’t embarrass me in front of our friends,” I snapped. I sat on a chair by Stacy. “And especially not on my birthday.”

  “You shouldn’t lie to our friends. No more picking on my body.”

  “Mmmm.” I squinted into the distance. Dare I say what was on the tip of my tongue? Yes, I dared. “And for your information, I was holding back because I didn’t want to pick on your body.”

  “Holding back?” he asked. For some reason, he sounded confident like he might actually win the next round in our repartee.

  “Yes.” I paused. “The truth is I haven’t gotten used to your chest hair, I’m just okay with it. Just like I’m okay with how you buy me clothes and I’m okaaaay with your teeny... tiny... penis.”

  That did it. He leapt from his chair and tackled my shoulders so I rolled on the porch floor. “You’re gonna pay for that, you little shit,” he growled in my ear. Then his fingers tickled me so hard it hurt.

  “It’s true!” I yelled. “He’s very disappointing in bed!”

  Mark spanked me on my ass. If there weren’t kids around, he probably would’ve dropped my shorts and hit my ass till it glowed red. As it was, our antics were deeply embarrassing, but also thrilling, in a weird way.

  Not for Alex, however. He ran up to the porch and started yelling. “Hey, hey.” He pushed Mark on the shoulder. “Don’t hit him. Mark! Don’t hit him!”

  The two of us were both red in the face, but grinning. The rest of the adults were amused. Alex was nearly hysterical with fear.

  “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

  “Hey buddy,” Mark said. “It’s okay. We were having some fun.”

  Alex crossed his arms and glared at us.

  I pulled myself together and tried to calm the situation. “Alex. We’re wrestling. Sometimes adults get rowdy.”

  “Bad Mart,” he said while pointing his finger. He frowned, kept his chin down and looked like he wanted to discipline us. “Mark should come with me on time out.”

  Time stood still for a moment as Alex waited for Mark to obey.

  “Uhhh...” Mark said. “You want me to go somewhere?”

  “Go to the sandbox,” Alex ordered. He pointed. “I’m very disappointed in you.”

  Mark and I shared a disbelieving look, then, surprisingly, Mark did as he was told. Alex followed him like he was practiced at escorting criminals through a courthouse.

  I was still shocked and on the ground on my hands and knees.

  “What was that about?” Stacy asked.

  The crowd let out a collective burst of nervous energy.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered as I flopped onto Mark’s abandoned chair. “He knows better than to pick a fight with me.”

  “Alex is kinda bossy,” Amber commented.

  “You should’ve seen him the day he said the f-word.” I covered my mouth. “I’m not supposed to tell that story. Sorry.”

  “Now you have to tell us,” Melanie said.

  I guess I was still feeling mischievous because I told the story of how Mark was put in his place that day when Alex was working on his coloring. “Then Alex said, Mart, will you just shut the fuck up, please? I’m trying to work.” My eyes flickere
d towards Mark to make sure he was still out of earshot. “We were flabbergasted. He sounded just like me.”

  “My kids have said way worse,” Ryan said when I was finished. Then he and Amber launched into their own story of twin mischief.

  “I trained my girls to kill spiders if I see them in the house,” Stacy admitted guiltily. “Tim isn’t always around and I hate spiders... so my girls know how to help Mommy around the house.”

  Tim nodded. “Last week, we were playing hide and seek with the girls and Evy comes up to us and says, Daddy, I can’t find sissy.”

  “She was gone,” Stacy said. “We looked everywhere for her, but couldn’t find any sign of her.”

  “It was spooky.”

  “Yeah. I was actually nervous. Then we heard this little knock knock coming from our bedroom.”

  “She was in my closet behind my dress shirts.” Tim squeezed Stacy’s hand. “That was a good one, wasn’t it, Char said. We were worried she coulda been injured or something.”

  “Where do kids come up with this stuff?” Amber asked.

  We watched the kids. They were starting to get rowdy themselves. The twins were being especially naughty towards Evy, and Mark wasn’t doing a damn thing about it.

  “Mark!” I yelled. He looked at me and I pointed to the twins. Mark immediately broke them up.

  “You have him well-trained,” Amber said.

  “No,” I denied. “He does what he wants.”

  “Bet you could make him get us another glass of wine,” Stacy challenged. “Without telling him to, just make him do it.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. Then I whistled so Mark turned his head straight to me. I raised my hand like I wanted a drink, then I pointed to Amber and Ryan.

  Mark dusted off his hands, told the kids something, then went to the coolers to find a cup of wine and a beer.

  “Told you,” Stacy said. “He’s like your servant.”

  That rankled me. We watched him get the drinks. He obeyed my command without complaint or question. “He has free will,” I said, rather louder than I intended. “I’ve made sure of it.”

  My friends made strange guffawing sounds.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Only you would say something like that,” Ryan muttered.

  “Well... it’s true. It’s important to me that he has a free mind and free will. We’ve been over this.” I thanked Mark as he joined the group and handed off the alcohol. “Thanks, babe.” He still loved when I called him ‘babe’. Maybe it was the small rewards like that that had him conditioned to obey me without complaint.

  I invited him onto my chair and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Alex is getting cranky. Now he thinks I was attacking you.”

  “You were attacking me,” I pointed out evenly.

  “But in jest! I wasn’t actually going to hurt you. Now he thinks I’m a bad man.”

  I growled and kissed him again. “No one could ever make that mistake,” I promised. It was a funny thing to say, surrounded by all our friends and each and every one of them had at one point given up on Mark for being a ‘bad’ man.

  NOT LONG AFTER THAT, Marty and Claude picked themselves up and prepared to leave. I made sure Marty would be the one driving because Claude had quite a few beers. We called for Alex and he reluctantly left the kids.

  “What?” he asked with dramatic exhaustion.

  “Marty and Cloud are leaving so thank them for coming to the party and for getting you that green couch chair.”

  His words came out fast. “Thankyou forcoming to the... the... the... Party and Cloud and thank you for the chair.”

  “Party and Cloud?” Marty asked. “Did you just call me a party?” He sounded delighted by the prospect. “Give Party a hug goodbye.”

  Alex was suddenly shy, like he knew he was being teased. He still gave his hugs, but he didn’t wrap his arms around Marty.

  We walked the guys to the fence.

  “Hey Cloud,” Alex said. “Don’t I get a hug?” Then the kid gave Claude a big hug and thanked him for the gift.

  We watched them head towards the front lawn. “So...” Mark said. “Party and Cloud. I like it.”

  “I like it, too,” I said.

  Mark ruffled Alex’s hair. “Marty was saying how you got me and him confused earlier. Did you call him Mark?”

  “No,” Alex said. He wiped his face. “Marty was being silly. I know his name.”

  “I know you do. Why don’t you play with the kids for a few minutes. Chris and I are going to load up the gifts and we’ll be heading home.”

  “Nooooooooo.” He begged us to stay longer. “Please, can we stay? I love it here.”

  “We can play with your presents when we get home,” I said. What parent hasn’t used bribery to get a kid in line?

  “Hmmm... yeah.”

  We sent him off to play. Tim, Ryan and Suhail helped us load the gifts. Alex was on his last leg of freedom. He picked up a super soaker and was trying to get one of the twins wet, but it was empty so Alex was basically just shoving it into the other boy’s arm.

  I whistled at him and indicated he should set the gun down, which he did. I helped dump the ice from the coolers and stacked the platters in the dishwasher. The backyard was clean and it was time to go.

  I gave Mel a friendly hug. Suhail got a handshake. Stacy got a hug even though I was infuriated with her for having a glass of wine. I stared at the back of her head for a minute and pledged to look up all the reasons why a pregnant woman shouldn't drink at any point of her pregnancy.

  Less than three hours later, I would have over thirty pages printed from the internet along with a small essay compiling all the ideas into one easy-to-comprehend but-not-in-an-accusatory way. After consulting with Mark (even though my mind was made up) I handed the paper to our friend the next afternoon and explained my thoughts on the matter. I don’t think she drank another drop of alcohol during that pregnancy.

  Apparently, drinking at any point while carrying a child can lead to a premature birth and a smaller baby. Charlotte, her first daughter, had been born premature and even though she was two years older than Evy, they were almost the same size.

  I have a feeling Stacy drank wine during her first pregnancy. Don’t you do it, too, you Beautiful Reader. It’s better to completely eliminate the risk of complications than to indulge in a little alcohol. Although this is coming from me, and I’ve never enjoyed the taste of beer or liquor or most wines. If we could live in a world without alcohol, I would gladly live there. (And if we could live in a world without sex, even better!) I understand most people feel differently, but I still hope that if you or a friend tries to drink during a pregnancy, that you remember this little paragraph and it makes you feel guilty as hell. Because you are. If you drink and your child ends up with complications like fetal alcohol syndrome... you will be guilty as hell.

  WE BUCKLED ALEX INTO his seat surrounded by his presents. He gripped his super soaker like he might never see it again (which, given my belief it was too much like a violent weapon, might have been stunningly intuitive).

  “Don’t get the car wet,” I chided as we drove off.

  “I’m not.” Alex was grumpy. “There’s no water in it. See?” He squirted a weak mist onto the car door. Then he wiped his face.

  “That was a great party, wasn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  “Were you surprised?”

  He nodded.

  Mark watched him in the mirror. “I think he’s trying to sleep,” he said.

  “What do you think of calling Marty and Claude, Party and Cloud? I’ve never met a guy more qualified to be called ‘Party’.”

  Alex heaved a magnificent sigh. “Chris. I’m trying to sleep so can you just be quiet please?”

  Mark grinned, but I was pissed. However, I certainly kept my mouth shut for a few minutes. Alex was asleep in seconds.

  “That was mean,” I commented. “Very hurtful.”

  “You deserve
d it. He was exhausted and you kept bugging him.”

  I shrugged. “I must be excited. Even though I knew what was going to happen, I’m still revved up.”

  “Happy?”

  I nodded. “Very much so. Thank you for today.”

  “No more wrestling in front of Alex. I’m done being the bad guy.”

  “As if you’re ever the bad guy. You’re always the weak link. Giving him ice cream and buying shit.”

  “Watch your language.”

  “He’s asleep.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he was still asleep. “He’s so fucking cute.”

  “So,” Mark said, trying to go back to an earlier topic. “The party has you revved up? In a good way or in a tired way?”

  “If you want to have sex, can you speak more plainly?”

  “I want to have sex,” he said immediately.

  I grumbled, but playfully. “I guess we can give it a shot. I am feeling—”

  “You always get worked up after this family shit.”

  “Language!”

  “Punish me, Master. Ravish me.”

  School Selection

  WE HAD STARTED OUR school selection process over the summer. What I have since come to learn is that any time I say the phrase ‘when I was in public school’, Mark gets triggered and immediately fights any of my proposals.

  For example, after visiting three or four private schools, I said, “When I was in public school, we didn’t need a fancy auditorium. What do kids need something so fancy for?”

  “We’re not in small-town Wisconsin anymore,” Mark sniped back. “This is Chicago and I ain’t sending our kid to public school.”

  “There’s a perfectly good elementary school within walking distance.”

  “You are forbidden from walking in that direction. You know that.”

  I scoffed. “There’s nothing wrong with going to the school that’s closest to us.”

  Mark was not pleased with me at all. He refused to set up a second meeting with the public school principal. He forced my hand and demanded that we take Alex to the ‘Academy’ that Mark thought would be the best. (It also happened to be one of the more expensive options.)

  The afternoon of our meeting with the orientation instructor was a blur of excitement. Normally, we would drive if our destination was farther than half a mile. Mark never took the Metra unless we went for a bike ride and didn’t want to pedal back.