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The Kids
Copyright 2014, 2016 Christina M. Guerrero
DEDICATION
This is for My Love, and the children we could have had.
STORY BEHIND THE STORY
Thinking about what could have been.
ABOUT THE DRAFTS
Draft Number One:
I thought this was a good idea until I finished the first draft. Then I was not sure what to do with it.
It is contrived.
It is predictable.
It is not all that unique, nor does it visit old subjects in a unique way.
Semi-red-herrings are vaguely mentioned and subsequently not developed.
Of course: grammatical errors, continuity issues, and assorted structural problems.
It’s the first date since the kids were born.
AAA and I are dancing, not having said a word about the toddlers, savoring the closeness, and the music, and the atmosphere of the jazz club.
I can’t stand it. He is smiling but his face is tense, and he keeps looking into the distance.
“Worried about the boys?” I ask.
He smiles again, and blushes and nods, and pulls me closer.
“They’ll be all right,” I say, feeling a bit jealous. He is so proud of his sons.
“The little one,” he says. “I’m afraid he’ll cry about me not reading him the story about the angry train.”
“The little one? They’re twins, my sweet.”
He nods with amusement. “The younger one by thirty seconds. The competitive one.”
“Well. You talked to him about our date. And he said he wanted the sitter to read him the one about the jumping dots. She said she’d text us.”
“Has she?”
“Want me to check? I’d have to let go of you.”
His eyes narrow and he pulls me even closer. “Not yet.”
And then it happens. Although we are now cheek to cheek, and he hasn’t moved any closer or said anything else, that particular desire is there. That desire that gets us hints from hosts to leave, or that once got us kicked out of a club. I think about a friend’s observation: “You two need a parental warning sticker. All you have to do is be within ten feet of each other, and somehow you look like you’re in the middle of something indecent.”
“We could go back,” I say, trying to avoid the powerful feelings.
“No,” he rumbles near my right ear. “My phone just buzzed. I asked her if she’d text me if she couldn’t reach you.”
Now I am jealous. “When did that happen?”
He is suddenly tense around me, and his big right hand slowly squeezes my left hip. “The phone number exchange?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“You were putting on your makeup when we chatted. Were you not paying attention? I was standing in the doorway.”
I think. “Oh. And she was holding the big one.”
He moves so he can see my face. A hurt frown softens his features.
“The big twin,” I say, feeling stupid. But even that sounds vaguely suggestive.
He suddenly turns red and grins. “She was not holding anything connected to my person.”
“I know. I meant our older son. By fifteen seconds.”
He squeezes again. “I know.”
We dance for a while in silence then he says, “Is this how it starts? Children coming between a couple?”
“I don’t know. This is my first experience with all of this.”
“And suspicions about sitters, and all that.”
I check his eyes; he blushes furiously. I say, “Probably. The new dynamics probably breed a lot of unnecessary preoccupations for some people. Or perhaps bring to light latent issues that were suspected but never addressed.”
He nods. Squeezes my hip and hand. “Remember our promises. Manners over everything else.”
“Yes.”
He moves close again, and feels softer around me.
“Feeling better?” I ask.
“Yes.” He rubs my hip, moving lower and lower. “How fast do you think we could get rid of her once we get back?”
“Uh. Well. We’ll need to get an update, pay her, and see her to the door. Ten minutes?”
“She talks a lot.”
“Then we listen. She’s the best so far. We don’t want to appear to be restless or rude.”
“I think we are on our way out in about fifteen minutes. Almost everyone is staring.”
“Because you’re the only one rubbing his mate’s ass.”
“It’s a nice ass. And I’m wondering how soon I’ll get to see it uncovered.”
The song finally ends. He tugs on me and we return to our table. As we sit, a waitress pops up, places a receipt on the table and says, “Be back soon if you want more to drink. Busy night.”
He says, “Ready to go after I pay? She and the cashier were watching us and shaking their heads.”
“Yep.”
Soon, we’re back in a cab and headed for our apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The cabdriver pulls up in front and says, “Mind if I ask the ballpark figure of the residences here?”
He says, “It’s not too bad. Almost every place in the building is XXX,XXX or less.”
“Nice building.”
“Yeah. I can go in and get a folder for you.”
“Would you mind?”
I pay while he retrieves the information.
“Thanks. Have a good night,” the cabbie says. “And be good. You two belong in an adult movie.”
I look at our clothes. He is wearing jeans, a leather jacket over a turtleneck sweater and xxx shoes; I am wearing a long-sleeved dress to my knees with a big wool jacket over it. We are both well into adulthood, tall and heavy-boned yet fairly slim.
We go into the elevator, and once alone start making out. His hair is crisp and soft against my hands; his mouth on my neck is burning up.
The bell dings. We part and rush to the front door.
“Okay,” he said. “We can do this.”
I open the door; he has the money ready and says, “BBB, how are you?”
She is ready, sitting on the couch, holding all her things. “Wonderful!” She stands up and moves around me to the door. Have a good evening?”
He says, “It was fun. And the kids?” He hands her the money.
“Thank you! The baby was funny; he loved the story about the dots. The other one was a big help. He’s so responsible. Not that the other one isn’t. Hey, I gotta run. Homework!”
“Oh, okay. Thanks again.”
“Bye. Let me know if you need me again.”
“Will do,” I say.
We shut the door and raise our eyebrows.
“Check our phones,” I say. “Just in case we accidentally had her on speaker phone. Mine looks okay.”
“Mine, too.”
“The kids, then.”
We lock all the locks, then rush to the bedroom. The kids are in their respective little beds, asleep, clutching identical toy trains.
“You think they’ll be conductors?” I say.
He frowns. “I don’t know. The little one is rather delicate. I hate to profile him. Maybe he’ll be a waiter? A really good one? And the other one ... he likes to be in charge. Maybe the president of the railroad.”
“Anything is possible.”
“What about uncovering your ass sometime tonight?”
I sashay away, going to our bathroom.
Later, I emerge, and he is waiting.
With the little one.
I am jealous again.
“Hi, mommy.” He waves at me.
“What’s my little tiger doing in here?”
He giggles.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.”
“Why?”
“You’re almost naked.”
I tighten my robe, which is over a skimpy, lacy bra and panties. “Yes. And you?”
He giggles again. “I’m not naked.”
I sit near him and AAA and hug him. “Nope. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I want to say goodnight.”
“Well, thank you. Do you want me to take you back to your room?”
“No. Daddy.”
“Okay.”
There is movement in the doorway. The other one. He runs and jumps on the bed, and bumps into his twin. “Hi, DDD.”
I smile, despite my frustration. We have a little chat about their night that does not last long before they both start yawning. AAA takes one in each arm and returns them to their room. I lean back, and rest on my side.
I wake up in a dark room, feeling him nearby. A big hand squeezes. I squeeze back.
Soon, he gets his wish. My bottom is uncovered. What words cannot express; what faces can not communicate ... our bodies share. For a long, wonderful time it is just us.
As we wind down, silently, I hear a faint, “Mommy!”
“The little one,” I whisper. “Those dreams. They’re going away, little by little.”
“The ones about him being alone?”
“Yeah.”
“He was repeating what you told him. Whispering it over and over.”
“What.” I’m almost ready to get up.
“He was repeating ‘sometimes we might be alone, and then we have to be strong’. He sounded more and more sure of himself each time he said it.”
“Cool. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
I go to the little bedroom. He is indeed whispering those words. I can hear him from the door.
And then he surprises me. “Go back to sleep, Mommy. I will be okay. Sometimes you might be alone. And then you have to be strong.”
“Good night, then.”
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“Yuk. Don’t say that.”
“Bed bugs, bed bugs, bed bugs.”
I return to our bedroom, climb in, cuddle up to him. He is silent.
Much later, it is still very dark. I wake briefly, feel him moving closer.
As I drift back to sleep, I hear a faint whisper: “You’re my rock.”
I move closer as well, and feel a smile on my face, that a big hand traces.
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