Train Me Daddy

“Yeah!” Brett looked ecstatic. It was hard not to take it personally – he was obviously closer to Isabelle than me or Marlene. But I knew I shouldn’t care – at least the boy had someone to be a positive role model, even if she was the nanny.

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nbsp; Isabelle grabbed her coat and left, leaving a wake of heavy orchid perfume behind her. As soon as she’d left, Brett seemed to clam up. He hopped onto a barstool at the island and slumped over a piece of paper, furiously scribbling with a crayon.

“Hey buddy,” I said, walking over and taking off my jacket. I loosened my tie. “How’s it hanging?”

Brett barely glanced up. “Fine,” he said.

“Just fine?”

Brett sighed. “Dad, I’m fine,” he said.

I forced a smile. “Okay. You hungry?”

Brett shrugged.

“How was school today? And don’t say it was fine,” I added quickly. “Because I know it wasn’t.”

That got Brett’s attention. When he turned to face me, his cheeks were pink with guilt.

“I’m trying, Dad,” he said after a long pause.

“I know.” I cleared my throat. “I know you’re trying, but sometimes that’s not good enough. Brett, you know I want the best for you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It was difficult not to get angry, but I took a deep breath and tried to let my frustration drain.

“I know I haven’t been around as much as I should be,” I said. “Things are really busy at work, but I’m thinking of taking a really long trip over the summer.”

“Oh.” Brett sounded glum.

“With you, together,” I said. “I was thinking about Disney World. Or maybe San Diego, wouldn’t that be fun?”

Brett looked up and nodded. He smiled. “Yeah, Dad. That would be great.”

I tried to smile back. I knew that I shouldn’t be bribing him like this – with offers of a fancy vacation – but sometimes, it was too easy.

“Well, you think about it and let me know,” I said. “I’m going to check on dinner and then get changed.”

“Can we order a pizza?”

“Brett, Isabelle made this just for us.”

“I know.” Brett wrinkled his nose. “But I want a pizza. It’s Friday, Dad. Come on!”

I sighed. “Only if you promise you’ll eat the leftovers,” I said. “We’re not going to be wasting any more food in this house.”

Brett nodded enthusiastically. I stared at him for a final minute, hunched over his paper in concentration and scribbling hard. He was such an intense kid – I knew he’d gotten that from me – but I hoped we wouldn’t ever get to the point where he refused to talk to me. Growing up, I hadn’t been particularly close to either of my parents. But they’d never really tried, either. It had always been about them.

Today, we practically had no relationship save for when they wanted to see Brett. They adored Brett, of course – sometimes it was hard not to feel resentment when I saw how clearly they preferred him to me.

I whistled as I walked through the condo. It was big – four bedrooms – I’d had it since before I met Marlene. It felt like too much space for two people. But moving was a pain in the ass, and this was centrally located right in Manhattan. I wasn’t about to give that up, just for the sake of a cozier condo.

Impulsively, I picked up my phone and dialed Brett’s teacher, June. I didn’t expect her to answer, but she picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”