The Godparent Trap

“So cheering up the kids doesn’t matter?”

“Not when you fill their heads with lies about magic and fairy tales and seeing their parents again, and how if they just talk out loud their mom and dad might hear them.” I sneered. “It has to stop, Colby. Right now. Do you understand?”

She took a breath and jabbed her finger into my chest. “As long as you understand that I’m not going anywhere. And that if you want to survive under one roof with me and those two kids upstairs, you better stop acting like the jackass we all know you to be. Your sister would be ashamed!”

I eyed her up and down and snorted. “Between the two of us, who do you think she’d be ashamed of again?” I leaned in. “You have a wine stain on your dress and can’t keep from making a scene in their house. Go sober up, I’ll take care of Ben.”

“I am sober!”

“You’re sad. Even when you’re trying to be an adult you’re so off base, I just assume you’re drunk.” I moved past her toward the kids’ rooms.

Past the pain slicing through my chest.

And the look of absolute horror and hurt on her face.

It made me feel better momentarily, to project all the confusion and anger I felt on the inside onto the only person available in that moment.

I was a fixer.

But I couldn’t fix this. I couldn’t fix any of it.

I couldn’t bring them back to life. I couldn’t make Colby into an actual adult. But I could talk to Ben. I could hug him. And rather than fill his head with fairy tales and lies, I could help mold him into the person Monica would want him to be.

Starting fucking now.