Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)

“Clay! We going now! Hurry up!” she shouts up the stairs, making me wince with how it echoes in the vast empty space.

Several seconds later we hear thumping and then his voice. “I’m coming! Jeez,” he grunts, stomping down the stairs, his attention on the book he’s holding instead of where he’s walking.

“Clayton! Look where you’re going,” I admonish. He looks up at me, his gray eyes narrowing as he sticks his tongue out at me. I shake my head and look away, not able to stop the grin lifting the sides of my lips.

As the parent, you’re not meant to find things like that funny—at least, that’s what everyone tells you, but I can’t stop myself from chuckling then coughing to try to cover it up. It doesn’t work though because I know he heard me.

“Do I have to go?” he groans when he gets to the bottom of the stairs, flopping his arms about in the air.

I straighten my back, trying to be the authoritative figure that I need to be, but it somehow doesn’t work with Clay and Izzie. When it’s just us three, I’m the Tristan that I used to be, but as soon as they’re not around, I’m a different person; the one I’ve had to become. “Yes, now hurry up otherwise we’re going to be late.”

I spin around and hold my hand out for Izzie. Her small, soft one slips against my palm and I can’t help the way that my heartbeat picks up at the feel of it. When I look down at her, I revel in the look she gives me; like her whole world starts and ends with me. I never want that to change, I want to make sure that I’m there for everything that she does, I want to be the one constant in her life—in both of their lives.

It’s even more important now that I’m their only parent. Life is hard enough being a dad to a little girl, knowing that there’s going to be things that I won’t know how to tackle; like when she’s a teenager and bringing boys home to meet me. I bat that thought away as soon as it comes to me.

“Hey... Dad?” Clay calls, his footsteps nearing us. I turn to face him and raise a brow, asking him silently what he wants. “Can we get burgers after?”

“Burgers!” Izzie squeals, letting go of my hand and clapping hers in excitement. “I love burgers! They’re my favorite! Can we, Daddy? Can we? Pleeeease?”

I chuckle and pull the front door open, waving them ahead of me to my own car.

I nod. “I suppose so.”

“Yes!” they shout back in unison.

Smirking, I shake my head and follow them, strapping Izzie into her seat and checking that Clay is buckled in.

“Right!” I say, pulling back and clapping my hands. “Let’s get this little princess to her dance rehearsal!”

I bow slightly as I step back and close the door, relishing in Izzie’s giggling face. I can’t help but chuckle at Clayton as he shakes his head; even he can’t stop his growing smile.

For me, this is what having children is all about. To make them smile, make them laugh and give them all the attention they’d ever need. I want to make their childhood a happy one.

After stuffing their faces and running around in the play area of the burger joint, they both fall asleep on the drive home.

The closer I get to the house, the more my mood deteriorates, knowing that when I step foot in the house and they’re both fast asleep in their beds, I’ll be once again left on my own. Sitting in the deafening silence that consumes the house.

I never in a million years thought I’d end up here—alone, raising two children and not knowing whether I was doing it right or wrong.

I suppose that all parents think the same thing; worrying that they’re not doing a good enough job, that they’re doing more harm than good. Although, in my heart, I know that there is no right or wrong; it’s all a big learning curve, and one that I’m constantly veering off.

Am I doing enough? Should I stop working so many hours? Should I ask my mom to step in and help? All of those questions fly through my head constantly, but I always come up with the same answer—no.

I worry that I’m not enough for them, that I’ll never be enough for them. How can only having a father ever be good enough? They should have two parents, not one.

I scrub my hands down my face, trying to not let my mind run away from me again as I pull onto the property. Driving up the gravel driveway and around the circular fountain that sits in front of the large house, I put the car into park in front of the double garage. The headlights beam off the limestone brick of the house and the trees that line the whole property.

I switch the engine off and jump out, making my way around to Clay and giving him a gentle shake on his shoulder to wake him.

“Clay? Clay? Get up, bud.” He startles awake and looks around in panic, his gray eyes clashing with mine. It takes several seconds for him to realize where he is and when he finally comes to, he calms.

“I need you to walk inside, bud, Izzie is sleeping.”

He nods his head at me and reaches around to unclip his belt, his movements jerky. I help him down and pass him his book to carry before walking around the back of the car to the other side. He stays close to me as I open the door and unstrap Izzie, picking her up and letting her head flop down onto my shoulder.

As soon as I’m a couple of steps away from the car I press the button on the key fob, the flashing lights of the car illuminating the dark space outside as the car locks.

Clenching my jaw, I hold my hand out for Clay and he grips it hard. I can hear his breathing becoming faster and louder, almost turning into gasps because of the darkness that surrounds us.