I waited until he let out a grunt as he came. He pressed both his hands on the tiles and ducked his head under the shower.
I rapped on the door to let him know I was there. “Kids want clown pancakes.”
“Be right there,” he said, with his head still under the spray. If he was embarrassed or concerned that I saw him wanking off, he didn’t show it.
Ten minutes later, he strolled into the kitchen wearing faded jeans and a long-sleeved Henley shirt. Both were as old and worn as my clothing, and yet, he looked like he stepped out of a men’s wear catalog.
“Daddy! Can you make clown pancakes?” Lanie rushed to him and he scooped her up.
“I can try.” He tickled her belly. He was absent a lot, but when he was here, he was present. At least for the kids. It was another thing I needed to be thankful for.
“How about you Noah, you want a clown pancake?” he asked, bending over to give Noah a kiss on the head.
“I don’t want to play soccer.”
Brayden glanced at me and I couldn’t decide if he was chastising me for wanting to be lenient or just wondering if I’d already talked to Noah about it. He turned his attention back to Noah.
“Season is nearly over. Who knows, maybe today you’ll make a goal.”
Noah frowned, but didn’t say anything more. I understood. Sometimes it was just easier not to fight.
Brayden made the pancakes and we all sat at the table.
“So, what did you learn this week in school?” he asked the kids as I put bacon on Noah’s plate.
“I can count to fifty, daddy,” Lanie said, beaming with pride.
“Can you really?” Brayden smiled, pride on his face as well. “Pretty soon you’ll count to a hundred, I bet.”
Lanie started counting and we all waited patiently as she worked her way through the numbers. She missed a few and did some out of order, but we all clapped when she hit fifty.
“How about you, Noah? What’s going on four-year old pre-kindergarten?” Brayden asked sipping his coffee.
Noah shrugged.
“Ah come on.”
“Noah made a lovely art project,” I said with a nod to the wall where I posted much of the kids’ schoolwork.
Brayden looked at the collage of colors and textures from a variety of objects including buttons and feathers.
“Gorgeous,” Brayden said, reaching over to mess Noah’s hair. “You’re a real Picasso.”
Noah frowned. “What’s that?”
“He’s a famous artist,” I said.
Brayden focused on the kids, and while I was glad that he was so involved in wanting to know about them, it didn’t escape me that he never once asked about my week. Then again, I didn’t ask about his.
When we finished, I gathered the plates.
“I can do that,” he said.
“Why don’t you get Noah ready for his soccer game,” I said. I’d rather he spent the time he had at home with the kids than doing chores.
Watching four-year olds play soccer was a lot like watching cats chase a toy. They hadn’t mastered the concept of positions. They all clustered around the ball, looking for a chance to kick it. All except Noah. He was on the sideline watching the game but not with much interest.
Eventually he came over to us. “I don’t want to play.” His blue eyes had tears and his little mouth quivered. It broke my heart.
Brayden’s jaw tensed. “You haven’t even tried, buddy.”
Noah shrugged.
I squatted down. “What would you rather do as an activity?” I asked.
Noah shrugged again.
“How about gymnastics,” Lanie said from atop Brayden’s shoulders. “It’s fun. You can jump and roll.”
“What about t-ball?” Brayden offered, which surprised me since he’d been so adamant that Noah had to finish the season.
Noah shook his head slightly, as his eyes glanced up at Brayden. I had a moment to wonder if Noah was afraid of disappointing his father.
“How about swimming or maybe karate,” I asked.
“Oh karate, that sounds fun. Can I do that?” Lanie asked.
“We’ll look into that,” Brayden said.
Of course, that meant I’d look into it. Brayden had good intentions at home, but no follow through.
“How about we go get some hamburgers, take them for a picnic, and talk about it,” Brayden said.
“Yay!” Lanie clapped her hands.
We went through the drive through to get food that we planned to eat on a picnic along Lake Washington.
“What do you want, Ter?” Brayden asked as we pulled up to the intercom to order.
“Just a coffee.” I was still full from breakfast, I told myself, although I knew it was the thought that he didn’t find me sexually attractive anymore that had me worried again about my weight.
“I want a cheeseburger and French fries, daddy,” Lanie called.
“Nuggets,” Noah added.
Brayden rolled his window down. “I’d like a number one meal, a cheeseburger and small fries, small nuggets and fries, and three colas.”
“Is that all?”
“That’s it.”
I turned my head to look out the window on my side of the car as I realized he didn’t order my coffee. We drove forward, paid for the food, and drove off without him realizing that I didn’t have the one thing I’d asked for. It was a metaphor, I decided. I was invisible to him.
3 Brayden – Sunday
I woke up to a small boy’s feet pressed into my back. I turned over to see Noah between Terra and me in bed. The first time I’d slept with Terra, I remembered thinking I could go the rest of my life waking up with her by my side. Now I struggled to remember the last time I’d held her, much less woke up with her in my arms. It was sad how something so beautiful was now lost.
I quietly rose from bed, putting on my robe and heading out to make coffee. I was pressing the button on the coffee maker when Terra entered the kitchen.
“Will you make me some too?”
“You can have the first cup,” I said, grabbing another coffee
