Johnny America

 

Dad Takes The Kids Out On The First Af­ter­noon He Has Them Af­ter He And His Wife Split Up

by

Illustration of a glass of wine, a tumbler of scotch, a beer, and a shot of vodka

“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.

Filed under Fiction on September 27th, 2024

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