Chapter 5

Chapter 5: You Got This

WINTER

"The very same. There is no other. But what do I say....She has... high standards. And very specific ideas about how life should be lived." His expression grew more serious as he turned to face me.

 "She wasn't wrong, though. The boys deserve better than takeout pizza and a father who can barely manage to keep the laundry clean. They deserve more, and sometimes, i think that I am failing them. I can't keep raising them with a child like view to things, when the real world is cold and cruel"

"You're doing your best," I said quietly knowing better what it feels like. "That counts for something. At least they know they love you and can also depend on you. If they were not happy with you, they would complain to their grandmother and she would take them from you."

He stopped walking, forcing me to stop too. The twins had moved on to examine the seafood counter, giving us a moment of relative privacy.

"Is it, though?" Derek's voice was raw with something that might have been self-doubt. "I mean, look at today. I punched a man in public, essentially kidnapped a stranger, and now I'm asking you to play house with us because my eight-year-olds decided you were the answer to all our problems."

"When you put it like that, it does sound slightly insane," I admitted smiling. Technically I had been kidnapped by then, but I had also followed them, ugh. It was all so crazy.

"More than slightly."

I studied his face—the worry lines around his eyes, the way his jaw clenched when he talked about his shortcomings as a father. Here was a man who loved his children desperately but was terrified he wasn't enough for them.

I knew exactly how that felt. After all, my own son hated me and couldn't care less what happened to me.

"Derek," I said softly, "before today, when was the last time you saw your boys that happy?"

He was quiet for a long moment, thinking. "I honestly can't remember," he finally admitted.

"They lit up like Christmas trees when they saw you coming across that park. Not because you were rescuing them, but because their daddy was there. Hell they were confident enough to stand up proud in a crowd filled with strangers and state you were coming for them.They trust you completely, even when you're stumbling through parenthood. That's not the reaction children have to a bad father."

"But they deserve—"

"They deserve a father who loves them, which they have. Everything else can be learned. There is no built in manual to this sort of things." 

I touched his arm gently. "Besides, I'm probably the last person who should be giving parenting advice. My own son pushed me into the mud and told a crowd of strangers that he wished I would disappear."

"That wasn't about you," Derek said with quiet certainty. "That was about manipulation and poison being dripped in his ear by people who should have protected him. Your son did not wake up one morning and decided to hate you.Any child can be turned against a parent if the right pressure is applied."

His words hit me like a physical blow, not because they were cruel, but because they were kind—and I wasn't sure I deserved kindness.

"Daddy! Mummy!" Jamal's voice carried across the store. "Come look at the lobsters! They're having a meeting!"

We hurried over to find both boys pressed against the glass of the lobster tank, watching the crustaceans with fascination. Their eyes were starry-awed and their mouths agape as they watched with fascination scribbled all over their faces.

"See how they're all clustered together?" Andre pointed excitedly eager to show us.. "I think they're planning an escape!"

"That one's definitely the leader," Jamal added, indicating a particularly large lobster that was indeed positioned at the front of the group and his claws moving rapidly like he was talking to them. "He's probably telling them about the plan."

"What do you think they're planning to do once they escape?" I asked, crouching down to their level. There was nothing wrong in engaging in their games and I was curious to hear what they had to say. Kids always had a way of seeing things in a prespective that was different from adults.

"Go back to the ocean," Andre said immediately. "That's where they belong."

"But first they'd probably want to see the city," Jamal added thoughtfully. "I mean, how often do lobsters get to explore on land?"

"They'd need little helmets to hold water so they could breathe," Andre continued, getting caught up in the fantasy.

"And tiny tour guides to show them around!"

I found myself laughing—actually laughing—for the first time in longer than I could remember. These children had such vivid imaginations, such joy in simple things. When had I stopped seeing the world through eyes like theirs?

"We should probably let them continue their meeting in peace," Derek said, though he was smiling too at the entire fantasy.. "We still have shopping to finish."

The rest of our grocery expedition passed in a blur of vegetables, proteins, and pantry staples. The twins had opinions about everything, but they were eager to try new things, especially when I explained what I planned to make with each ingredient.

"Real chicken soup," I promised them as we selected a whole chicken. "The kind that simmers all afternoon and makes the whole house smell like comfort."

"What does comfort smell like?" Andre asked.

"Like home," I said automatically, then felt my breath catch. When had I last felt at home anywhere?

"What about dessert?" Jamal asked hopefully. "Are you going to make dessert?"

"What kind would you like?"

"Something chocolate," they said in unison, then grinned at each other.

"I think I can manage that."

By the time we returned to the apartment, the afternoon sun was slanting through the windows, turning the dust motes into tiny dancers. The place looked even more chaotic than when we'd left, but somehow it felt different too. Warmer, maybe. More alive.