Jack
He asked me to read to him.
Me.
It was the first time he ever did that. The first time he asked me for anything. Once I read it, he asked me to read it again. He sat on my lap, leaning his head back against my chest, watching as I flipped page after page. Except for my finger sliding the page over, I was afraid to move. I was afraid to break the spell.
He asked me to read to him!
Since that night, a few nights ago, he has also asked me to pour his milk in his cereal. He asked me to help him with a puzzle. He asked if monsters were real.
This new chain of events gave me some newfound confidence. I decided to sit him down to have a talk. The first I would as his father, the first of many to come. It’s just the two of us. Leila is bathing the twins. He sits with me while watching a soccer game on TV. I clear my throat four times. After dragging in a deep breath I ask, “Shane, can I tell you something?”
He looks up distracted and refocuses on the game quickly after. I wait for a commercial and then shut off the TV.
“Do I have to go to bed?”
“No, buddy. Not yet.” I smile, fiddling nervously with my wedding band. “Shane, I want you to know if there is ever any question you have, or anything you want to know, or anything you need, you come to Leila or me. Okay?”
His jerky nod doesn’t convince me that he understood my statement.
“Even if it’s something really bad. Even if it’s something that you do wrong, or if someone upsets you. We are always here for you. You come to us no matter what you need. Okay?”
He looks up at my face, finally processing my words. “Even if someone gets me really mad?”
“Yes. Who got you mad?”
“Sometimes Madden does.”
I chuckle at his honesty. “Madden is still learning how to be as cool and as mature as you are. I know he can annoy you sometimes, but he loves you very much. Mostly, he just wants to be just like his awesome big brother.”
“But I’m not his brother.”
His response hits hard. “Yes you are, and Siarra’s brother, too.” He focuses on the darkened TV, avoiding me. I move to squat before him. “Shane. Do you miss your mom?”
He nods his little head.
“We do, too. She was the best. You had the best mom in the world. You were very, very lucky to have such a great mom. You know what else she was?” I wait a moment and say, “She was really smart. She worked really hard to make sure you are happy. Her wish was for you to have a great life. She chose us to take care of you. While she’s in Heaven being an angel, your mom picked us to be your new family. We get to spend every day with you. And guess what?”
He looks at me but doesn’t respond. “We were hoping that she would. Because you are so special and we wanted you to be part of our family. So now, we are the lucky ones.”
He’s heard these words before from my wife. She’s been telling him over and over that we are here for him and always will be. She’s told him how much we love him. How he is now part of our family and we are so happy to have him. I feel it’s important for him to hear it from me as well.
I offer my hand, palm up. He slowly places his in it. “I love you, Shane. We all love you.”
I don’t get a reaction from him. I really don’t expect one. I know he heard me. I can only hope that through our actions and our words it will no longer be a question in his mind that he is part of our family for good.
“Jack?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Can you read me that story about the baseball player again? And tuck me in?”
I smile wide, giving him a nod to emphasize my words. “Absolutely. I’ll even read it twice. Let’s go.” We walk side by side to his room. Since Paula’s passing, we’ve been getting adjoining suites in the hotels that we stay at. We always offer for him to stay with the twins. He has been choosing his own room. Many nights my wife lies with him until he falls asleep. Many nights he wakes from a bad dream. They have been lessening, but occasionally he will still startle awake, crying for his mother until he falls back asleep.
He surprises me now as he snuggles into my side while I read his favorite book. He interrupts with questions and random facts. He goes off on a tangent, telling me about a baseball game he once went to and the foul ball that came right near him. He almost caught that ball, and if he were taller, he would have.
By the time I start reading the book for the second time, his breathing evens and he’s out for the count. This little guy has so much on his mind. It’s exhausting him. I slowly move out of the bed, staring down at his sweet face. “I’m always here for you, buddy,” I whisper as I stroke his head. “Always.”
Once he’s all tucked in, I find my wife in bed staring into space. “Guess what?”
I repeat our conversation, and the one that we recently had while I was reading to him. She grabs my hand as I speak. The look of pure optimism on her face is infectious.
“He’s getting there,” she says so quietly. It’s almost like she’s afraid to say the words out loud, afraid to jinx him.
“He is.” I pull her closer. She wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight. “You are such a good father.”
“I try. Is that it?” When she looks up confused, I cock my head to the side and add, “Am I a good husband, too?”
“No. That you suck at.”
I swat at her ass, and she laughs. It’s a real, carefree laugh. A laugh I’ve rarely heard lately. One I miss terribly. “God, I love that sound.”
“What? Me telling you that you suck?”
“No, smartass. Your laugh.” This time I pinch her ass, causing a squeal.
She leans up and kisses me slowly. Not a quick peck. It’s a kiss that I’ve rarely received these past weeks. Like her laugh, it’s also something I miss terribly. We’ve cuddled, but we haven’t made love. She constantly apologized, and I constantly dismissed her. We’ve had longer stretches when she was on bed rest and after the twins were born. It still doesn’t make it any easier. I’m not exaggerating when I say I need her more than anything in my life.
“Jack?”
“Yeah, Babe?”
I expect her to ask for me to hold her. Instead she says, “Make love to me.”
“Babe, aren’t you tired?”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
She places her hand on my face, “Please?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” I flip us around so that she’s beneath me. When her eyes look into mine, the spark they used to hold is clearly visible, even in the dimly lit room. She looks at me expectantly. “Lei?”
“Yeah?”
“I am so proud to be your husband. I know I’ve told you this before, but I wanted to make sure you knew of all my titles, being Leila Lair’s husband is one I’ll never feel worthy of.”
“Jack…”
Before she can say anything else like I’m wrong and it’s the other way around, I seal my lips to hers. I know her body very well. Her soft lips immediately part, inviting me to taste her. When I slowly skim my tongue past her lips into her mouth, she moans.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I murmur into her mouth. She nods, opening her mouth wider to keep me there. I comply readily. “Babe, what if the kids wake up?” I ask because I know it’s a definite possibility, especially Shane.
“Beverly has the monitor.”
I glance over to her end table and see the monitor is not in its usual spot. “You planned this?”
“Are you analyzing or making love to me?”
“After I devour you inch by inch, I will most definitely make love to you.”
My gorgeous wife stills when I slowly drag her T-shirt off, and then peel her panties down her legs. My lips immediately kiss her tattoo. It still thrills me when I see it, even after all this time. Her C-section scar is the next thing I kiss. She clenches her belly, just as she always does when I pay attention to it. She hates it. I tell her it’s her battle scar and I love every inch of it. When I move lower, she forgets all about her embarrassment.
Her legs fall open, her back arches, and my name falls from her lips at the first touch of my lips.
“You’re so warm, so sweet.” I feel her fingers in my hair when I close my mouth around her.
I spend the night loving her in the best way I know how. She’s exhausted by the time I slide into her. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is parted as she pants.
“Open,” I command.
She obeys.
Each time I thrust, she grips me tighter.
“Can I make a confession?”
Her eyelids fall again, just before she nods.
“I can’t wait to get you pregnant.”
At my confession, she opens her eyes wide. “Really? You’re ready for another?”
Still keeping my rhythm, I ask, “Why are you so surprised?”
“I’m not.” When I roll my hips, hitting her spot perfectly, she gasps. “Okay, maybe I’m a little surprised.”
“We’ll wait a bit, let Shane acclimate once we get home. But soon after,” I admit, leaving my intentions hanging between us.
“Jack?”
“Yeah, Babe?”
“Stop talking.”
I thrust harder and faster while giving her my CCDS smile. “Good?”
The combination of my dimples and my cock brings her pussy clenching around me. It’s just what I need…more than air, more than water or food.
Just Leila.
She may be the mother of my children, my best friend, and my wife, but most importantly she’s my sustenance.
“He asked me twice. It’s a good sign. It means he’s himself again.”
My wife stops applying her makeup and meets my gaze in the mirror. “Jack, I don’t think it’s a good idea. What if Paula…” She stops abruptly.
I move a chair beside her, forcing her to turn and face me. “Babe, Paula would want Shane to be happy. When he’s on stage beside Trey, he’s never happier. Think of her one and only wish for her son.”
She contemplates my words. “It just feels wrong.”
“What does?”
She meets my stare and shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know, the thought of him moving on so quickly? I know it’s what we want, but I feel like it’s too soon. Exposing your child like that is a decision a mother should make.” Tears fill her eyes immediately.
I’m not clear as to what she’s trying to say. “He’s been on stage before, and we had his mother’s blessing. We wouldn’t be doing anything Paula didn’t already agree to.”
“But it’s different now. She’s not here to decide. His mother should be the one deciding.”
It occurs to me what her strife is about. “Baby, you are his mother.” She shakes her head, denying my words. She’s in complete denial. This has been an argument in her head for weeks. She is his mother, yet she feels underserving. She justifies her anxiety by calling herself his guardian. There are days she’s accepting of her title. There are days, such as today, she’s back to feeling unworthy of it.
I tug on her hands to force her gaze back to mine. “Babe, you are. He is our son. This is your decision, and mine. We decide what’s best for him now. We have his mother’s blessing to do so.”
“It feels so wrong. It’s not just choosing his pajamas or tucking him in. What if it traumatizes him? What if he isn’t ready and we alter him in some way?”
She’s second guessing now, and we haven’t even begun to parent Shane. We need to be on the same page. She needs to realize life goes on without Paula.
“Leila, we aren’t just his caregivers. We are his parents. If you feel it’s too soon, fine, we’ll wait. But if you are just afraid to make this decision, afraid it’s the wrong one, you will torture yourself with every one we’ll need to make here on out.”
She sighs heavily while looking at our hands. Her brow wrinkles as she drags in breath after breath.
“What is it? What else is bothering you?”
Without meeting my gaze she says, “When I became a mother to the twins, it was automatic. I never consciously thought about what it entailed. It was just natural for me to assume the role.” A tear slides down her cheek, and she glances up to finally look into my eyes. “With Shane, it’s not happening the same way. It’s consuming me, causing me to second guess everything I do.”
“You feel guilty about that?”
She nods as more tears slowly roll down her face. I reach up to wipe them, taking the moment to carefully choose my words. She closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them, she avoids my penetrating stare.
“Lei, look at me.” Once she does I say, “You are as much of a mother to Shane as you are to the twins. You need to stop beating yourself up. You are doing the best you can. That boy is lucky to have you in his life. You aren’t in this alone. I’m beside you every step of the way. It’s you and me. Okay?”
When she doesn’t respond, I prod, “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“We take this one day at a time. He’s already doing so much better. That’s all because of you.” She smiles weakly, and it quickly waivers. “Hey, I love you.”
“I know you do. I love you, too.”
This is just another situation she needs to work out on her own. The only thing I can do for her is support her every way I can, as a husband, a friend, a lover, whatever it is she needs, I’ll be.
“Can I get a real smile?” I ask, looking hopeful.
She gives me a small smile. When I respond with my full-blown CCDS smile that she loves so much, her smile immediately widens and lights up her face.
“There’s my beautiful girl.”
She turns toward the mirror, “Ugh, beautiful my ass. Look at me, I’m a hot mess.”
“You are hot, and you’re my mess.” I hold her face in my hands, pulling her closer to kiss her softly. She holds my wrists, returning my kiss with one of her own. Her kiss is more desperate, more demanding. Her kiss forces mine to become more heated, more passionate. As I stroke the inside of her mouth with my tongue, her hands tighten around my wrists. She subconsciously leans into my hold, and her chest begins to heave, begging for oxygen.
When I pull away to let her breathe, she murmurs, “You suck,” against my mouth.
“I can. I’m not sure we have enough time, though, but a quickie I can most definitely squeeze in.” I mold my hands around her breasts, feeling their response to my kiss through her pebbled nipples. “Or you can forgo the quickie, and I’ll just suck on these until show time.”
She shoves me playfully. “Get out. I need to finish getting ready. We go on in ten.”
“Fine,” I concede, pretending to be inconvenienced. “I guess I’ll go bother the guys until then, after one more kiss.”
The one I leave her with is the one I know without a doubt will distract her enough, and rile her up enough to make her sexually frustrated during our show. She hates when I do that. I love when I do that. It makes her performance even sexier. Her reward awaits her after the concert is over. That’s when she forgives me in more ways than one.
“See you on stage, Babe,” I call over my shoulder as I leave the room.
Her response is a throaty groan.