23. Griffin
Chapter 23
Griffin
W hen the timer on my watch goes off, I carefully lift Andi’s feet off my lap and stroke my fingertips down her cheek. She fell asleep in the middle of reading a book she picked up from Chapter and Verse, some collection of Middle Eastern poetry that she’s slowly making her way through, highlighting certain lines and dog-earring other pages. In the last two days, we’d taken to reading together in the afternoons, and I hope we’ll continue to.
Since I came home from work Wednesday, and she sucked my soul out of my dick, I’ve been attached to the girl like a barnacle. Probably because she owns me now. Got my heart in her back pocket.
She’s joked about how I’ve been following her around. Even the kids noticed, making comments this morning about me needing to stop pretending I’m not creeping back up to my bed in the morning, when I assume they’re asleep and can’t hear me.
I suppose my stealth skills aren’t what they used to be if I can wake my tween children at six in the morning. Then again, maybe it’s a subconscious thing. Maybe I’d like my kids to figure it out, notice I’ve been sleeping in Andi’s bed and be okay with it.
Because what I really want is for Andi to sleep in my bed. To move all her things upstairs. Have her hair ties on my nightstand and her sweet-smelling shampoos and soap in my shower. Her cowboy boots next to my work boots. Her cute little slip-on sneakers next to my HOKAs. Like I told her, I’m ready.
Her eyes flutter open, finding mine after a few seconds, and she leans into my touch. “I fell asleep.”
“You did.” I smile, another crack in my chest. It’s been happening more and more. Every smile I let free tears down another brick from my wall. Pretty soon, there won’t be any protections left, and all Andi will have to do is walk right in. Take the castle. Plant a flag on me.
“It’s time to go pick up the kids,” I tell her, and she nudges Cat off her lap then sets her book aside with a yawn. She’s so cute like this, hair flopped over in something that’s half ponytail, half bun, her brown eyes all sleepy, lips begging to be kissed. I give myself what I desire and plant my mouth on hers. “I’ll get your shoes.”
She yawns again and slowly stands, stretching her arms above her head, as I grab our shoes from the back door, stepping into my sneakers without untying the laces before carrying hers over. I kneel down to hold them out for her, putting them on one at a time. She balances with her hands on my shoulders. “You really are my Prince Charming, huh?”
I straighten with a tap to the side of her thigh. “Only if you’re my Cinderella.”
She laces her fingers with mine, leaning into me as we head toward the back door, exiting out of the garage. “I guess the broke-down car does count as the pumpkin, but I’m missing a fairy godmother.”
“You could have two in Marianne and Clara.”
She tosses her head back when she laughs. “You’re right. They’re absolutely my fairy godmothers.”
We stroll down the sidewalk to the bus stop at the end of the development, the warm May sun shining on us while Andi goes on about an idea she has for a song, and my life has never felt more right than this moment. These last few weeks, I feel like I finally have a family. One that my kids deserve. One that I deserve.
I have a woman who cares about me and loves my children.
I have a house that is a home, with laughter and movie nights and decorative bullshit that doesn’t make any sense to me except that Andi loves it, and I love anything she loves.
In hindsight, I know I never loved Beth the way a husband should love his wife. I cared for her, sure, but it was more out of obligation than genuine affection. She was carrying my children, and I wanted to do the right thing. But with Andi, it’s different. I love her in a way that consumes me, that makes me want to be a better man, a better father. I love her in a way that makes me dream of a future I never thought I’d have.
When I imagine the years ahead, I picture Andi by my side. I see her cheering on the kids at their graduations, her eyes shiny with pride. I see us becoming empty nesters, filling our days with spontaneous adventures and quiet moments together. I see myself growing older, my hair turning more and more gray, and Andi stroking it, a playful smile on her lips as she tells me, “I like mature men.”
What I can’t do is imagine my life without her. More, I don’t want to.
The rumble of the school bus pulls me from my thoughts. Logan is the first one off, which is unusual. He’s normally the last, taking his sweet time to gather his things and say goodbye to his friends. But today, he skates right past Andi and me, his eyes fixed on the ground.
“Okay, buddy?” I call after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. I turn to Andi, who shrugs, waving to Grace when she hops off the bus. She slings her backpack over her shoulder and tightens her ponytail before I drop my arm around her shoulders. “What’s up with your brother?”
Grace squints at me behind her glasses then tosses a questioning glance to Andi, as if asking permission.
“Fail the science test?” she guesses, and Grace shakes her head.
“He got a B. I got an A.”
Andi pumps her fist in the air. “Of course you did, you genius girl. So, what’s wrong with Logan?”
“Valentina likes another boy,” she says quietly, maybe feeling like she’s breaking twin code or something by telling us, but I’m glad she did. This was the girl that he caught an attitude with me over.
He really liked her.
Poor kid.
And the brow Andi raises in my direction is a silent conversation. I’m gonna have to take this one. Talk to my son about his first heartbreak. I nod toward her, and she smiles at me before telling Grace, “Snack, homework, and then Girl Scouts tonight. I sewed your new patch on.”
“Thanks.”
“I was thinking we could go shopping this weekend to find an outfit for the talent show.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, my treat for your big debut.”
Grace leaps out from under my arm and hugs Andi, bouncing on her toes, babbling excitedly about where they can go and shoes she wants to get. Andi matches her enthusiasm, and it’s a physical ache watching them together.
The way they are with each other is how I always envisioned a mother and daughter might be. There is an ease that I could never begin to have with my daughter. An understanding. A whole other language.
The talent show is in two weeks, and Grace has been practicing every day for it. From what I’ve heard, she sounds good, and I’m happy she’s stepping out of her shell to try something different.
Of course, I have Andi to thank.
Again .
Back at the house, after homework and chores are done, and Andi has left with Grace for Scouts, I find Logan in his room, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. His door is halfway open, but I knock on the frame anyway before opening it all the way. Logan doesn’t move.
“Want to shoot around for a bit?”
My son lifts up on his elbows. “Not really.”
I step into his room and backhand the bottom of his foot. “Afraid I’ll beat you again.”
He waves me off with a cocky, “Psh.”
I grab his ankle, yanking him down the mattress. “Outside in five.”
“Dad! I just want to lie down.”
“And do what? Think about the girl? That won’t help. We’re playing basketball. Let’s go.” I clap a few times as I turn back to the hall, calling out, “Don’t make me come and get you.”
I’m dribbling around when Logan shuffles out, all slumped over. If he’s like this in fifth grade, I don’t even want to think about when he’s older and somebody breaks his heart for real.
“First to ten, loser has to take out the garbage,” I say, and he huffs.
“I have to take out the garbage anyway.”
“Beat me, and you won’t have to.”
He rolls his eyes, so I try again.
“Winner gets ten bucks.”
“No one uses cash anymore,” he says like I’m a fucking dumbass, and I am really not looking forward to the next six or seven years of this.
“Jesus, kid, what do you want?”
He thinks on it. “Sleepover at Sebastian’s house.”
Sebastian is his best friend, and Logan’s slept at his house before because I’ve met his dad and trust him, a fellow single father until recently who owns a candy store downtown. “Is his dad going to be home?”
“Yeah.”
“I need evidence.”
“Fine, whatever,” he mumbles and takes the ball from my hands to stand at the other end of the drive, opposite the hoop.
He passes it to me, and I toss it back before squatting down to defend him. My son is a good athlete. I’ve never pushed my kids into any activities—hell, if they’d do less, it would be better for me—but basketball is what Logan is best at, and I hope he continues to play. He’s fast, with good control and body awareness.
Even though I usually beat him one-on-one, he always scores a few points. Today, I let him score more. The game’s even at nine-nine when he fakes a shot before dribbling around me to hit a lay-up. The ball circles the rim but ultimately doesn’t go in. I snatch the rebound and take it back to the top of the key before sinking a jump shot, beating him.
He sighs but claps my hand when I extend mine, allowing me to pull him into a hug. “You can sleep at Seb’s house, but I will be speaking to his dad first.”
Logan unfurls a smile, the first I’ve seen all day, as we plop down on the grass. I bend my legs up, setting my arms on my knees. Logan shadows me.
“So,” I start, “you wanna talk about it?”
“There’s nothing really to talk about.”
Silence settles between us for a while, and even though it’s almost eight, the sky is still light, the sun slowing its progression to the horizon the closer we get to summer, and I think about the possibilities. Things I’ve thought about doing with my kids but never felt ready or confident or competent enough to follow through with.
I always had this dream of renting an RV for a summer and driving to different states to camp. Go see the biggest ball of yarn or whatever dumb shit they have at weird highway rest stops. But I’d never brought it up because I assumed the twins wouldn’t want to or I wouldn’t be able to handle them on my own for that length of time. Maybe now, they’d want to. I’ve certainly accrued enough vacation time. Maybe I’d bring it up later, after talking to Andi. The kids have camps, but I’m sure we could work it out.
I lean over, bumping Logan’s shoulder. “It sucks when you like someone and they don’t like you back.”
He dips his chin. “Yeah.”
“But you know what that means?” I wait until he looks over at me. “She’s not your person. And that’s okay. Because one day, you’re gonna meet someone who is your person. And she’s gonna like you back just as much as you like her.”
He considers this for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “How will I know she’s my person?”
“Well…” I rub at the back of my neck. “You sort of…feel it, I guess. Plus, when you tell her how you feel, she’ll feel the same way.”
Logan stares out ahead of him, at the houses. A minute passes until he finally says, “I really liked her, and I thought I felt it.”
“I think you’ll feel a lot of things in the next few years, but it’s different when you meet the one. I don’t know very many people who meet their person in fifth grade.”
He pulls on a few blades of grass, letting them float back to the ground in the breeze. Does it another two times before turning to me. “Is Andi your person?”
The question catches me off guard, but I don’t hesitate. “Yes, she is.”
He nods a few times, eyes out across the street again. “I like her.”
“Me too.” Understatement of the century.
I don’t confess that I know he loves her and, instead, stay silent as the sky grows darker, the sun fading until lights in houses up and down the street blink on. And as Logan begins to tell me about how there are two Charlies on his baseball team and Coach Matthews has taken to calling them One and Two because he can never remember their last names if they aren’t wearing their jerseys, Andi pulls into the driveway with Grace.
Andi shuts her door, smiling at us. “How’s it going here?”
“Good,” Logan replies as we both stand, and then the strangest fucking thing happens. Nobody even says a word. But suddenly, we’re all hugging. All Andi has to do is hold her arms open. Logan takes up the offer first. Then Grace. I round it out, wrapping my arms around the lot. These three people are my whole world. My two kids and my person.
I only have to tell her so.
But for now, this hug is good, too.