Chapter 3
TANNER
Spending time with my kids is usually the highlight of my day, but tonight I'm dreading it. I'm dreading having to tell them that their dad is out of a job, unemployed, on the verge of being a deadbeat.
As a dad, I need to be the strong one. I've always needed to be the strong one, especially after their mother passed away. I want to be the example that you can get through hard things.
And luckily, this is nothing like losing Katie. But still, it sucks. I don't want them to see me fail. They just started a new school year. They’re adjusting to so much; I don’t want to add this.
I pull into the garage. In the rearview mirror, I force one of my regular dad smiles onto my face. I'll crazy glue it on there if I have to.
Inside the house, my five-year-old, Lulu, runs over to me, easily one of the top moments of any day. She hugs my legs first. I pull her up into my arms.
"Hey, baby, what's up?"
"Daddy," she says in that gleeful way that goes straight to my heart. "I painted a picture of a bunny rabbit today in school."
"Really?" I say. "That's incredible. Oh, I want to see it.”
The art that gets sent home from class is a bit excessive.
There's only so much you can put on the refrigerator. Especially when the kids were younger. They'd scribble on paper and the teacher would send it home with them where it’d have to go on the fridge for a few days. However, this bunny rabbit picture actually resembles a bunny rabbit. She’s chosen pink for the body and green for the ears.
My seven-year-old Dean strolls up to me with chubby cheeks that I have to resist the urge to pinch. He wears a red sparkly bow tie from a magician set he got last Christmas.
"Dad, would you like a piece of chewing gum?" He holds out a pack of gum with one piece—only one piece—sticking out.
I play along. "Oh yes, I really could go for some gum. I'm so glad you have some, Dean."
I reach in. As soon as I grab the piece, it sends a shock through my body. It stings every time. But the laugh on Dean's face is worth it. He’s a total jokester, something he does not get from me. Didn't really get from his mom, either. It’s something all his own.
I walk with my two youngest into the living room where my two oldest are watching TV. Lena is doing some homework while the TV is on.
“Dad! Watch this!” Davy, my ten-year-old, plays with his plastic hockey stick and puck in front of the TV, practicing his moves. He shoots the puck into a wastebasket leaning on its side on the carpet. He’s begun parting his blond hair the same as me.
“He shoots; he scores!” I yell. I give him a high-five.
“Hey, Dad.” Lena looks up and gives me a smile. She's fourteen, so it's not the beaming grin of her younger siblings. There's a little bit of a wariness to it, a little something that she's always holding back, as is her teenage way.
She started high school this year, and I hate that I have unemployment stress hanging over my head—that I can't fully be there for her. But luckily, she has a good head on her shoulders.
“Dean and Davy have permission slips that need to be signed. Also, Lulu refused to have any meatballs with her spaghetti tonight. She says she no longer eats them,” Lena informs me.
“You’re not eating meatballs anymore?” I ask her as she runs up to the couch.
“I’m a chickatarian!” Lulu proclaims.
“It means she only eats chicken,” Lena tells me, a tired smile on her face.
“Thanks for watching the kids tonight.” I kiss my oldest on the top of her head. There’s only so much affection she’ll let me show her nowadays.
I’m grateful that Lena is old enough to look after the kids for the one night a week that I have practice. Luckily, my friends chip in to help with watching the kids when they can. Lots of play dates.
"Are you wearing a new perfume, Lena?" I ask her.
"Oh, just trying something from one of my friends at school." My little girl is growing up so fast. I can’t keep up. "Is it okay if I go to a friend’s house on Friday night? Michelle is having a few of us over to watch a movie.”
“Sure. That’s fine,” I say.
"Dad, check this out," says Davy, moving the puck.
He snaps a shot, and it nicks the edge of the wastebasket before sputtering onto the bookcase.
"Dang.” Davy sighs.
“Next time,” I tell him.
Dean tries to grab his stick. "Hey, can I try?"
"No, Dean, you hate sports." Davy holds tight to his hockey toy. Even though it’s a toy plastic stick, he regards it with sanctity. Davy loves the sport as much as I do, and he’s kicking butt in his junior hockey league.
"I bet I can make this hockey stick disappear. One, two, three!" Dean swipes it from his brother and throws it behind the couch.
"Hey! Stop—" Davy swipes the prank gum from Dean’s front pocket.
"Dad!" Dean yells.
"Dean, your brother cares a lot about his hockey gear, just as much as you care about your magic tricks. So don’t touch each other’s stuff.” As a dad, 80 percent of my job is conflict resolution.
I plop on the couch. It's exhausting having four children and being a single dad. It just is. Doing it solo wasn’t the plan.
Katie and I made a great team, and since she passed two years ago, I’ve been trying to keep everything together, keep the plates spinning.
It’s like trying to play hockey by yourself.
No way can you beat your opponent that way.
Oddly enough, once I admitted to myself that things were hard, then everything got better. I was no longer deluding myself into trying to be this superdad. Just make it through the day. That’s my mantra.
Des is my only friend who is proudly child-free.
He thinks I’m suffering in silence. I've learned I can't really talk to him about the nitty-gritty parts of parenting, because he thinks it sounds like the worst thing ever.
Anecdotes about dirty diapers or stomach bugs that go round and round in our household are funny in retrospect, but to Des, it sounds like a horror show.
The stressful parts of parenting are always temporary, and then you're left with the good stuff. I’ll have an incredibly stressful moment with my kids where I want to scream followed by watching them do the sweetest thing which makes my heart swell until it’s about to pop out of my chest. And that can all happen within the span of fifteen minutes.
This right here is a good and bad moment. All my kids are gathered around me. They’re healthy and happy. And now I have to break the news to them. My heart dips.
"So everyone, we need to have a talk—a family talk."
Their happy smiles immediately go away. Except for Lulu. She's too young to remember her mother. But the other ones—they know. They know what happens when I shift into serious mode. It's never good news.
I hated having to be the one that told them that their mother passed away.
Lulu puts a hand to my heart.
"Daddy, your heart is having palpitations," she says.
I love the way the Ps pop in her mouth. It’s a bright moment before I dive into the ugliness.
"So I got some news today. It wasn't great.
" I take a breath. Parents have had to tell their kids bad news forever.
If I can tell them about their mother passing away and have us survive, we can get through this.
"My company has decided that there are too many people in the company, and so they had to let a few of us go.
And they're letting us look for new jobs. "
"You got fired?" Lena asks.
"In a way, I did. But it happens. And it's just a job. I can find another job. But I just wanted to let you know. And it's gonna be okay. The important thing is, nothing in your life is changing. Everything will be fine.
"Davy, you still have your hockey practice and you're still going out for your traveling team. Dean, I still want all the jokes and magic from you. Lena, you're still in high school. You're being a great student. Everything's going great.
"And Lulu...you just keep being Lulu. You got it?"
She gives me a thumbs up. Her big eyes and cuteness melt my stress away.
"Are we gonna run out of money?" Lena asks, her forehead creased with concern.
"No, we will not. We have savings. We are fine."
The mental calculator starts going like crazy in my head. Things add up fast. How long will my savings last? That’s something to freak out about in private.
"I have a joke! I can cheer you up," says Dean. “What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta!”
It's so dumb I have to laugh.
Lena groans. Davy punches him on the shoulder.
"Davy, you're gonna hurt his cardiovascular system!" Lulu says.
She started watching some kid science show on YouTube, which is her new personality. Hopefully, this means she'll be a doctor. Should I be letting her watch YouTube? About fifty times a day, I question whether or not I’m a bad dad.
I hear a knock at the door. Des strolls in with cupcakes—gourmet cupcakes—from the fancy bakery in town, and a six-pack of beer hidden in a paper bag.
His tall, broad-chested frame glides through the front door.
With his fancy suits and hair neatly combed to the side, sometimes Des can feel like an anachronism, someone who stepped out of the 1950s.
"It's my favorite little humans!" Des gives them high-fives.
Dean runs up to him, about to give him a hug. Des stops him. "Dean, you gotta wipe your hands off. I see they're covered in some kind of sauce...or you just committed a murder. I'm hoping it's the first one, right?"
Dean runs back to the bathroom to wash his hands. God forbid anything happens to one of Des’s fancy outfits. I once borrowed a T-shirt from him. I looked it up online.
It was three hundred dollars. For a T-shirt!
“Are those cupcakes for us?” Lulu asks.
“Nope. This is my dinner. Sorry. None for you guys.” Des hugs the box close to him only for a second before putting it on the coffee table. The kids immediately start grabbing cupcakes. “Let’s wait until your dad and I get plates and napkins. Lots of napkins.”
Des may say that he hates kids, but he loves being Uncle Des. He can be the fun uncle and then leave when things get too loud or annoying. My soul lifts having him here.
"Hey," he says to me, his voice low. His deep chestnut eyes study mine. "Everything good?"
"Yeah. I was just telling the kids that I'm going on a new job adventure."
"Adventure!" Lulu echoes.
"Your dad is amazing.” Des peers around my cluttered living room as he sits next to me on the couch. “He's so smart. He's gonna find something new, and those…c-words are gonna get what's coming to them."
"What's a c-word?" Dean asks.
Des is usually really good about swearing, but he is not perfect. He gets to swear all day in his life. He doesn't have to worry about watching his mouth. He doesn't have to worry about the words he's saying influencing a young child.
"C as in…curmudgeons. They're curmudgeons," he says.
"What's a curmudgeon?" Lulu asks.
"It's a big, grumpy person. Those grumpsters at your dad's job, they are dumb for doing this."
"Wow, these cupcakes are so good," Davy says.
Lena licks the frosting off with her finger. Dean and Lulu dive in, stains be damned.
"Dean, use a napkin. You're making a mess," I say.
Dean reaches across the coffee table to get a napkin and knocks a glass of Lulu’s milk off onto Des’s leg.
"Fiddlesticks," Des says, really emphasizing the F. I give him a thumbs up.
"Oh, sorry, Uncle Des," he says before grabbing his preferred cupcake.
I race to the kitchen for a washcloth. Patting his leg dry, I take notice of how strong his thigh muscle is. I hand him the rag before I think anymore of it.
"It's okay. It's okay. Tell me everything that's going on. Dean, how’s hockey?" Des asks.
“Davy plays hockey,” Dean says, annoyed. “I’m a magician. Say, do you want a piece of gum?”
He takes out his trick gum.
“Is it sugar free?” Des asks.
“Uh…no? I don’t know. Try it and find out.”
“I’ll pass. I prefer Altoids.”
Dean puts away his trick and takes a big bite of his cupcake. Des remains oblivious.
"There's a traveling team that I want to try out for, and I really think I have a shot. Like, I play with some of the guys who are trying out, and I can totally beat them," Davy says.
"Sweet. Just keep practicing." Des gives him a thumbs up. "Lena, you seem quiet. How's high school?"
"It's fine," she says. A typical teenager's vague response that I will have to get used to. She used to babble as much as Lulu, but those days are very much over.
"Who do you have?" Des stares at Lena. He has that power to make you feel like the only person in a room.
“I have Bright for history. He’s nice, seems a little odd. And Mr. Bradford for French, who’s obsessed with this old show from the ‘90s. He’s dating the Spanish teacher Mr. Shablanski. It’s so cute.”
Des and I share a look. We don’t recognize any of these teachers. South Rock High has totally changed. The last time I went there, I felt a pang when I noticed all their pay phones were gone. Yes, I know it’s ridiculous that they’d still be there, but please let me have my nostalgia.
“Is Mrs. Barnes still there?” Des asks.
“Yes. She’s so old. I’m glad I don’t have her. I heard she’s kinda scary,” Lena says with a giddy laugh.
"God, I remember she busted me when she caught me smoking under the bleachers." Des chuckles.
"You smoked cigarettes?" Davy asks, shocked.
"Oh, they weren’t cigarettes—"
I smack Des in the stomach before he can explain further.