The idea flashes through my head nevertheless: a similar scene to the one I just witnessed, played out over the next few dozen years. Waking up too early. Dealing with a kid who’s too grumpy. Standing at a sink that’s too full of the same dirty dishes, and counting down the minutes until nap time. Rinse and repeat. A slow, tedious slide into . . . what? Angry old age?
Maybe I’ve stopped wanting to please Daddy. But now I’ve started wanting to not become him.
If I don’t take the extension, I’m staring down the barrel of a similar gun. Not the CTE, but the being tied down part. The boredom of everyday life here on the farm. The monotony of raising kids, keeping a house, cleaning up after a family.
How can parenthood be both the most and least fun thing ever?
Why would I give up my old life for this?
You’re panicking.
The voice inside my head is right. Liam’s just having a bad day, that’s all. I’m being a stupid, selfish idiot to add fuel to the fire of this ridiculous existential crisis, and that needs to stop. Right now.
I am not that fucking guy anymore.
I breathe. Drink. Breathe some more.
I am a guy who wants freedom. Who wants to run life his way.
But then Amelia emerges from the bedroom with Liam on her hip, and Liam is saying, “Dada! Dada ous-side! Dada go ous-side with Lili!”
He’s so fucking cute.
See, this is what I’d be missing if I went back to being that guy.
I drain what’s left of my beer and open another. I drink it as I inflate the bouncy house outside.
“Vegas,” Rose says with a twinkle in her eye. “I love that town. Y’all are going to have such a wonderful time out there. What an adventure! I can’t wait to come visit.”
I lean down to pick up the crayon Liam threw on the floor. “I’m just happy I finally convinced Amelia to come with us.”
“I’m happy you’re finally together.” Rose tucks into her bacon, ranch, and heirloom tomato salad. “I wondered how long you’d fight it.”
“Grandma,” Amelia says, dropping her fork.
Rose dabs her lips with her napkin. “What? Everyone knew you’d get back together. Well, everyone but the two of you, apparently.”
“What made you think that? That’d we’d get back together?” I ask. Then I sigh when I hand Liam the crayon, and he throws it back on the floor, shooting me a nasty look while he does it. I grab it off the floor and tuck it into my pocket. Liam kicks his feet and starts to whine. “Too bad, son. You throw it; you don’t get it.”
He whines louder. It’s half past five, so the Barn Door is mostly empty. My face still burns. Is this always what it’s like when you take a toddler to a restaurant?
Becoming a dad didn’t kill my sex life. It could, however, kill whatever social life Amelia and I might’ve had because going out is so not worth it. Doesn’t help that I’m the tiniest bit hungover from all the beer I had earlier. I went from happy buzz to house of pain somewhere around two or three o’clock, and it sucked.
Rose offers Liam his snack cup of goldfish, but he shoots her a look too, tucking his chin.
“I’m really sorry,” I say. “He’s usually not like this.”
“What about some milk?” Amelia asks, offering him his sippy cup. She looks as tired as I feel: dark hollows underneath her eyes, hair a little messy. Liam didn’t nap, so we’re all running on fumes. “No? Okay, then.”
“Don’t apologize.” Rose waves us away. “This is life with kids. I remember when Amelia was this age. She literally never sat still. I flew to Toronto once with her and her mother, and she screamed so loud because she couldn’t leave her seat that the captain came out of the cockpit. He wanted to make sure she was all right.”
“Sorry about that,” Amelia says with a smile.
Rose pats her hand on the table. “It gets better. Just look at you now! You sit and you use your utensils.”
“I’m advanced,” Amelia replies with a shrug.
“So what is your arrangement going to be now that the two of you are together?” Rose glances between Amelia and me. “Is Amelia still going to nanny, or . . .”
Amelia cuts a glance in my direction. Lifts her wineglass and sips.
“We haven’t talked about that yet, actually,” she says carefully. “This is still so new.”
Liam is kicking the table again, so I lift him out of his high chair and set him in my lap. “I know you said you missed teaching. Maybe we look for a position for you out there.”
“Maybe.” Amelia winces. “But it’d have to be temporary, right? We’ll be in Vegas until, what, February at the latest? No one’s going to hire me for six months. Not for the kind of position I’d want, anyway. And I’m not sure if Nuria would even give me a recommendation, so . . .”