Dad Takes The Kids Out On The First Afternoon He Has Them After He And His Wife Split Up
“You guys want chicken fingers or something?”
“Popcorn,” said Katie, aged four.
“Pizza,” said Matt, aged six.
“I know a place that does great chicken fingers,” said Dad.
“I don’t like chicken fingers,” said Katie.
“Everyone likes chicken fingers,” said Dad as he climbed the steps to his local bar. The door was stuck so he had to crank it open. He ushered the kids in. Even Dad thought it must have looked more like his forcing the kids inside than helping them.
“Darrell!” cried the bartender, whose name was Jimmy. “How ya doin’, man? Who’s this?”
“My kids. Matt and Katie. They’ve been here before.”
Jimmy dropped to one knee in front of the kids. “You must be Katie and you must be Matt. Oh, sorry, I mixed the two of you up.” He pushed himself to his feet, and looked at Darrell. “Too young for comedy,” he said. “What can I get you?”
“The usual,” said Darrell. He paused. “And a shot of vodka.”
Jimmy waited for a moment. “Do your kids want anything?”
Darrell looked at the kids blankly. He had no idea what they drank. “What do you guys want to drink?”
“Single malt scotch,” said Matt.
“Dry white wine,” said Katie.
“Give ’em a couple of cokes. And make my vodka a double.”
“I don’t want a coke,” said Matt. “Mom says it has too much caffeine and sugar.”
“What about juice?”
“Sugar, Dad!” said Katie.
“Well what then?” Darrell barked at them. He was beginning to get pissed off, and he knew it wasn’t because of the kids, but they were there and so…
Jimmy brought Darrell his beer and vodka. He looked at Darrell, and nothing registered on Darrell’s face. He looked at the kids. “What can I get you?”
“Single malt scotch,” said Matt.
“Dry white wine,” said Katie.
“OK, no problem,” said Jimmy. “What do you want to eat?”
“Chicken fingers. And fries,” said Darrell.
“I don’t want chicken fingers!” said Matt. “That sounds disgusting.”
Katie added, “And I don’t think chickens even have fingers.”
Darrell said, “Another beer. And another shot. Double.”
Jimmy returned with Darrell’s drinks, and a couple of drinks for the kids, probably not scotch and wine, but they sure looked like it.
“I like pasta,” said Matt.
“Me too,” said Katie.
“Since when?” said Darrell.
Jimmy said, “We can do that. Do you like tomato sauce? Or cream sauce? Bit of chicken? Beef? Vegetarian?”
“Vegetarian, tomato sauce,” said Matt. He looked at Katie, and she nodded.
“Since when?” said Darrell. “Yeah, whatever they want.”
“What do you want to eat, Darrell?”
“I’m good,” he said. “Hit me again.”
Dad watched whatever sport was on TV. The kids did their thing. The only times he interacted with them was when their glasses (plastic, mind you) were too close to the edge of the table, or when he thought they were playing too much with the noodles.
He drank until Jimmy cut him off, saying, “You got kids, man. Straighten up.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me how to deal with my kids.”
“Darrell, you’re welcome back here any time. I know what you’re going through. You can’t do this with kids.”
Darrell knew Jimmy was right. He knew he was messed up. He watched the kids finish their pasta, their scotch and wine. He watched them play, didn’t understand it, he’d never seen it before. He thought he might not smoke the joint in his pocket as soon as he got home. But he knew he would.
He took his phone out and called his wife. His ex-wife. It went to message. “I can’t do this. I want you back. I’ll do anything to have you back. I swear. I’ll be different. I’ve screwed up. I know that. We can fix this…” He continued in that vein until the message time limit cut him off.
He put his phone away and looked up. There was Caroline standing front of them.
Jimmy hustled over. “I had to call her, man. You can’t cope.”
“I left you a message.”
“I’ll check it later. Are the kids drunk?”
“Just a little,” said Jimmy. “Nah, I’m not serious. Maybe.”
“How do you figure, Darrell? What the hell? Are you the idiot eighteen-year-old I met, ignored for obvious reasons, and then you finally grew up ten years later, and now you’ve gone back to being eighteen? Jeesh, man. Grow up. Sorry, guys, your dad messed up. Things will be better now.”
“I don’t like your boyfriend, Mom,” said Matt.
“Dad’s friends are funny,” said Katie.
It was a standoff.
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