TUCKER
I’m so tired. Why does everything I do turn to shit? If I’m getting high and get into a fight, that’s my fault. But with Amber, I tried. I really did. Even when I try, I can’t make things work.
Part of me is resigned to staying in bed all day before I leave for my flight to California. Maybe I could get high or drunk or put another blast on social media and pull the party to end all parties.
None of that appeals to me, though. I’m pissed, and not ready to lie down and give up yet. There’s a hole burning inside of me that wants to get up and fight with everything I’ve got.
Before, I was fighting for me and Amber. But she’s a bitch. An amazing bitch, but a bitch, nonetheless. She’s just like the other girls. Only she’s not and I know it.
Before yesterday, I’d been thinking about Amber and how I want to be with her.
Now, there’s a part of me that still wants that, but there’s also a part of me that wants her not to exist. I wish life was simple again.
I’m so close to just giving up and giving in to my dark impulses of drink and drugs, but I’m gonna be a dad and I need to do something productive, whatever that it is.
I sit up in bed and grab my phone. I scroll through the contacts once more looking for someone or something that can help.
I’ve already put Josh through enough. I can’t keep burdening him with my problems. Especially as he’s in a similar situation, albeit he and Cait love each other.
Above Josh is Jimmy T. Yeah, a dopehead surfer. That’s exactly the kind of guy I need advice from about what to do and how-to-parent. Argh, why is it always so hard?
I throw my phone to the end of my bed and rub my eyes. There HAS to be an answer to all this.
I pick my phone back up and look at the screen.
Ryan. That’s it. As much as I hate to admit it, Ryan knows his stuff.
He’s a douche-grade nuclear asshole, but he should be able to offer me advice.
Amber doesn’t want me to be part of our kids’ life.
That means I’m gonna have to fight for custody if I wanna see them.
Ryan’s smart, he’ll know what to do and how to do it.
I bounce out of bed. Today isn’t the day for giving up.
Not when there’s a chance, I can do something worthwhile.
Plus, all my shit is packed up and I’m all ready for the flight.
I can get over to Ryan’s and back before I need to leave.
Then maybe enjoy the flight thinking about the future and how the hell I’m going to be a good dad.
I throw on some clothes, swallow down a protein shake, and set off for Ryan’s.
I arrive at his door ready to go and knock three times.
“Tucker?” Ryan says with a hint of shock.
“Ryan! My favorite bro, I need five minutes of your time.”
“Don’t you have a surfing comp to get to?”
“Yeah, not ‘til later. Can I come in? I need to talk.”
“Errm. Sure.”
We both traipse through Ryan’s ugly-ass house. Money makes the world go round, but money can’t buy taste.
“So, I need some advice and you’re the only person I can turn to,” I say, sitting down on his couch, which is also ugly ass.
“I take it you’re not here to apologize then?”
“Huh? For what?”
“Last time I saw you, you took a swing at me.”
“Oh yeah, so I did. Yeah, loads of shit has happened since then. I need a lawyer.”
“Oh, for God sake, Tucker. What have you got yourself into now? Have you upset a drug dealer? Do you need to pay someone off, so they won’t press charges?”
There’s a lot to unpack here. Normally this would be the point when I start shouting, maybe throw one of his disgusting vases. How dare he? But this isn’t the time. I need help.
I bow my head for a moment to collect myself and start again.
“Amber’s pregnant. She’s been pregnant for a while now and I didn’t know.
I’m gonna be a dad. But she doesn’t want me to be a part of the baby’s life.
Or hers. She thinks I’m a waste of space.
Just like you do. I ain’t in no trouble and I haven’t touched anything heavy for days now.
But I need a lawyer otherwise I ain’t gonna be able to see my kid.
She could up and leave if she wanted and I’d never see either of them again.
Please, bro, I need your help. I know I’m a mess of a person, but this is important. ”
If Josh’s thing is always looking confused, Ryan’s is always looking like he’s about to critique a business plan. His face doesn’t move. I know he’s thinking, planning, but his face is like a block of ice. Nothing moves, despite the cogs inside turning.
“Amber has her own business, yes?”
“Yeah, she runs a dog shop. It’s hers.”
“So, she’s got the means to raise the child without needing your money?”
“It should be with my money but yeah. She’s got enough to get by comfortably.”
“And what would you be bringing to table?”
“What?”
“Let us say I get you a lawyer. I know a guy. He is great. Never loses. He could paint her badly in spite of the fact she is the model citizen. So, what would you be bringing to the table that’s a more tempting proposition than what she is offering?”
“I’m the dad. I have a right to see-”
“Have you done a paternity test?”
“No, I don’t need-”
“Right so you may be the father.”
“Dude…”
“See, here is my problem. She is offering everything the courts will want to hear. She can afford childcare; she can afford healthcare -- that means you are both on a level footing in terms of financial responsibility. She will always be the mom, though, and courts favor that. You, on the other hand…”
“Will always be the dad as well?”
“Well, that is up for debate.”
I feel a surge of heat building behind my eyes. I know he’s goading me.
“I will always be the father.”
“What are you doing later today.”
“Surfing comp flight.” I’m trying to hold it together, but my words come out through gritted teeth.
“And what is she doing?”
“I don’t know, probably working.”
“Who, later tonight, would be in a better position to look after a child -- the woman getting back from working a regular, secure job, or the surfer who likes to get high?”
Hgrng. The fire is no longer contained to my head. It’s coursing through my body so fiercely that if there were once fire doors, they’ve been turned to ash.
“I…”
“Exactly.”
“So. What. Do. I. Do. Ryan?”
“Look at this from an outside perspective. Put yourself in someone else’s shoes for once in your life.
Amber is everything you are not. She’s got a great support network of people who care for her for who she is, not because she has money.
She has a great job. Is business savvy. And can provide love and care.
I will ask again, what do you have to offer? ”
“I’m the kids’ dad.”
“For now, until you get bored. Honestly, Tucker, the kid would be better off without-”
This time there’s no one here to hold me back. I swing for Ryan and connect right on the side of his jaw. He crashes to the floor then stumbles back to an upright position.
As he’s getting up, I swing again. Same place. He lands on the floor again, only this time there’s blood splattered right across his face that inks onto the floor.
I stomp towards the vase, grab it, and hurl it against the wall.
“FUCK YOU, RYAN! I came here looking for help. I did the right thing. I asked for help. I am trying to be a better person, but you’ve got a stick so far up your ass you can’t even tell when your actual family needs help.
I turn and exit the house like a raging storm, slamming the door so hard the porch rattles. Fuck him. Fuck this. I’m done. I’m going to California. I’m going to win that fucking competition. Then I’m going to fuck everyone there and get higher than space rocket. I. Am. Done.
I get on my bike and race back to my house. Thankfully, there are no cops around, so I don’t get pulled.
I am so done with all of this.
I get inside, grab my bag by the side of my bed and pause. I open my nightstand and pop two pills. I pack my Xanax inside a pair of socks and head to the kitchen. I down the remainder of a bottle of Jack and call a cab.
When the taxi arrives, I throw the bag in the back and slam the door shut. I don’t utter a word to the driver.
I hurry to the airport and check-in.
“Boarding pass, please?” the lady at the counter asks. I’m tempted to throw it at her, but that will get me kicked out.
In the hours that pass I wait for my flight.
I wish I’d have kicked Ryan a few more times while he was down.
Maybe I should have thrown a few more vases.
Prick. Why did I expect him to offer me anything other than judgment?
I’m an idiot. I should have known he’d take whoever’s side that isn’t mine.
I needed help and all he had to offer was reminding me how much of a piece of shit I am.
I board the plane without saying a word to anyone and sit down in my seat.
The plane takes off, and as soon as we are safe to unfasten our seatbelts and move about, I ask the trolley woman for a drink.
“Double whiskey, ice.”
Then I ask for another.
“Double whiskey, ice.”
And another.
“Double whiskey, nice.”
Seven drinks in and I’m starting to question the point of anything. How did I think I could be a dad? It was a nice dream but let’s be real here. I’m just not cut out for this shit. All I’m good at is drinking and partying. That’s where my real talent lies.
“Doubbly, whishkey, ice.”
“Sir, I think you’ve had enough.”
“I’ll tell oo when I’ve had e-fucking-nuff. Get me a bastard wish-”
“I can’t do that. I think you should sleep it off. There are still a few hours left before landing.”
“I don’ wan sleep. I wan’ Amber. I wan’ my fam’ to take me serioshly, I wan’ be a good dad but I can’t.”
I slump down in my seat and look out the window. Outside is full of so much space, but inside here, I can’t help but feel trapped. Trapped in the body of someone who can’t do anything right.