Because you sickos asked nicely.
February
"Hey, I'll put him to bed." Todd's voice startles Seth and me both.
"Dod! Dod Dod!" Seth escapes my grasp to race over and wrap himself around Todd's legs. "Home! Dada, Dada, Dod home!"
"Yes, it's Todd," I acknowledge tiredly. "Now let Daddy put your pajamas on."
Seth buries his face in Todd's thigh and screams angrily. "No no no! No Dada!"
"It's bedtime, buddy," Todd says, prying my son from his leg as he crouches to look Seth in the eye. "The pjs are going on. You can have Dada help you or Todd help."
"Dod help!"
"Somebody didn't take a nap today and is being a little turd," I warn Todd, handing him the rejected pajamas "I will tag out."
"Yiyu turd," Seth repeats happily, throwing his arms around Todd's neck.
With a grateful look I scoot past them into the hall. Seth chatters nonsense at Todd, who responds with encouraging, "Oh really?" and "Is that so?" With my son taken care of I feel free to sit down for what feels like the first time in days. By that I of course mean I'm free to take care of the mountain of dirty dishes that piled up with Todd out of town.
The off-key sounds of "Stacey's Mom" comes from Seth's room, which means they've gotten to the lullaby stage. Seth likes the
oo-oo-oo-oo-oo
parts and gets real mad if you don't sing both verses. It's either that or the entirety of "Jingle Bells," and I'll gladly take Fountains of Wayne over a Christmas carol. Toddler music tastes are bizarre.
Something about hearing another person tell my son "Love you, buddy. G'night" really gives me the warm fuzzies. Todd sees me smiling as he walks into the living room and makes his way to the kitchen.
"Oof, he is a handful," Todd says cheerfully, plopping down on a barstool. "But at least he didn't ask 'Mama go?' this time."
"Ha," I reply over the sound of washing Seth's sippy cups. "He hasn't done that in a couple weeks. Now it's always, 'Dod go?'"
"Really?" Todd's smile is full and sincere. "Aw man, I love that kid so dang much." No kidding. His lock screen is Seth's first time going down a slide alone; I wonder how many questions he's had to answer. I wonder how he explains.
"Well, he loves you." The sad truth is that there's no one else for Seth to get attached to. My family's on the other side of the country, Chrisette's folks blame me for everything, and I'm still figuring out how to mend my friendships...Seth sees the other kids in the gym nursery, he sees me, and he sees Todd. That's it. "I gotta socialize my son. What's the people version of a dog park? Church? I should take him to church."
Todd's silence makes me look back at him. He has that expression that usually means he's choosing his words carefully. "If you meet someone and it gets serious, you're gonna warn me, right?"
I pshaw at the idea. "What sane church woman would be like, 'Yeah, I'll get serious with the married guy who's shacked up with his estranged wife's boyfriend.' The pope would love that."
"Jesus ran around with 12 dudes and a prostitute; he'd understand. Moreover you don't have to tell her we fuck."
"Bro, everyone can tell." The last sippy cup goes on the drying rack. Some days I feel like I'm drowning in sippy cups.
Todd makes a derisive noise. "No, they can't."
"My mother could tell, and all you did was answer my phone once." Shockingly, Mom likes Todd better than Chrisette, but that's probably because he's around and my lovely bride is maybe in the Maldives, we think.
"Is that why I'm not invited to Guys' Night?" he asks.
"Because I raw-dog you on the weekends?" I ask sarcastically. "No, it's because you didn't go to college with us."
Todd makes a smug face, the kind that I used to want to slap off. "I thought it was because they knew you like to get your ass eaten."
Both of my middle fingers tell him what I think of that, and Todd laughs. I turn back to the sink. We've gotten past the phase when we fucked like bonobos. I'm glad; wanting Todd--fuckin' Todd--so much made me feel insane. Now that Seth's naps are shorter and less frequent there's way less impromptu banging in the kitchen or on the couch.
I say that, but Todd found time to blow me before he left for work this morning. He held me down and swallowed and it was so fucking good.
"I want to travel less so I can be with Seth more," Todd declares grandly.
"Seriously?" I turn around.
He looks a little embarrassed, maybe because he announced it like a fucking town crier.
Hear ye, hear ye!
Todd pulls his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. "Both of you. I think it'll be better for everyone."
I harrumph at that. Todd has been trying, but it'll take longer--a lot longer--than four months for him to move anywhere past being the guy who helped torpedo my marriage. He'd take a bullet for Seth, though, so of course he wants to stick around. Who knew what that smug bastard wanted most was to be a dad?
"Do what you like; you always do," I reply. Sooner or later he'll probably get bored of this weird domestic arrangement and move on, but at least I know that Todd's here now of his own volition. Chrisette didn't even want to be with me; I just took my role of Todd stand-in too seriously.
Ugh, that is fucking depressing.
The book I'm reading instead of doing therapy would advise that I reframe that line of thought as a story I'm telling myself. Is it a helpful or a harmful story? A story is easier than feeling bad for missing a billion signs about Chrisette's mental health and, you know, my...uh...feelings.
"Hey, Jesse." Todd puts his hands flat on the bar top.
"What?"
"Do you still think I'm a bad person?"
"Huh? No," I answer as easily as I used to tell Chrisette the opposite. Todd is no worse than me, at least.
He sighs. "Okay. Because if you're putting up with me just because of Seth, if you actually want me gone, then I need you to say those words. Otherwise, I'm here."
"Oh, come on," I start, but Todd's back is stiff as a board, he isn't meeting my gaze...The man is nervous. How can I respond to that? I'm still not sure how much I like him, but to have started off wanting to sock his face every time every five seconds and now feeling like it maybe wouldn't be so bad if he stuck around for a while...it's too complicated. The best I can do is to touch his hand so that he looks at me. "I'm glad you're back."
Todd relaxes. I think he'll leave it at that, but then he grabs the back of my head and pulls me to him across the bar. Todd's tongue is on mine before I know it; he kisses me until my skin tingles and I have to come up for air.
He grins smugly. "You missed me?"
"Shut up," I say, but I kiss him back this time.
March
The guys had asked me about it last night, which is probably why I'm so squirrely when Todd joins me on the back porch.
Scotty had looked fucking uncomfortable. "So is...Todd, um...the new Chrisette?"
I hadn't known how to answer.