Father Figure

One month seemed more like one week.

Between moving, taking care of the boys, and wedding plans, I was drained. I had never felt so tired in my life except when the boys were first born.

"The boys are asleep," Joe whispered against my neck. My back was leaning against his legs as his fingers massaged my shoulders.

"Finally," I mumbled. I dropped my head onto my knees, trying to enjoy the break I was finally receiving.

His lips kissed up and down my skin. I could tell what he was thinking, but in all honestly, I didn't want to. Not now. At this point, I never felt like doing anything ever again. His tried teasing my skin, working to get some kind of reaction out of me. I lightly patted his knee. "Not tonight, sweetie. I'm wiped out," I told him.

He let out a frustrated sigh before standing up. I opened my eyes at the sudden loss of hands on my shoulders. I lifted my hand to look at him as he glared out the windows in our new living room. "You never feel like it," he muttered.

I frowned. "I've been exhausted. We just moved across the country with three almost five year olds. I've been working all day every day to get this place put together to make a home. Don't I have a reason to be a little put out right now?" I asked, an edge in my voice.

He turned around and frowned down at me. "Come on. You honestly want me to believe that in the nine hours you're home alone you are completely busy?" he snapped.

I rose to my feet grudgingly. I just wanted to relax and sleep right now. I didn't want to have to fight on top of everything else. "Yes, I do. Did you notice the painted walls, organized office, put together living spaces? Did you notice the forms I have filed now to make sure we can vote in this state and my children can go to school and play sports this winter?" I asked him.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, please-"

"Excuse me?" I snapped, cutting him off. I kept my voice low enough so it wouldn't wake my sons. They needed their sleep. Even if they seemed to never run out of energy, even seconds before they were out for the night, they needed to be in bed right now. "Moving this far takes a lot more than packing and driving," I stated harshly.

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously, but it shouldn't still be this way after a month-"

"Oh please. You know what? I don't want to fight. It isn't worth it-" I began, ready to just go to bed. I turned to leave as I spoke.

"Our engagement isn't worth fighting for? Do you not care about this, Nathalie?" he yelled at my back.

I cringed at the level of his voice. I turned around to give him a dark view. "Lower your voice. My children are sleeping upstairs and I will be damned if I let you wake them up at this hour when they have school tomorrow," I began. "And yes. I do care you us. I am just not in the mood to fight, especially over such a pointless subject," I finished.

With that last word, I turned back around and went upstairs to our shared room. He would not be joining me tonight, I could promise that. As I passed the doors to my children's bedroom, two of them were open. I stopped to peak inside, only to find the beds empty. I let out a sigh before cracking open the third door. All three boys were snuggled together in Kris's bed.

Beau peaked his head up nervously. "Maman?" he whispered.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I was just checking on your guys," I told him. "Go back to bed."

As I started to close his door, he spoke again. "Why was Joe yelling at you?" he mumbled sadly.

I froze. The fear I could hear peaking into his voice made me want to run and hug him, to promise him everything was just perfect. But I knew Beau was a little too smart for something like that. If I acted that way, he'd know something was up. "He stubbed his toe. He wasn't yelling at me," I lied gentely.

Beau put his head back onto his pillow. "Okay. Night, mama," he told me.

--

I took the steps carefully, making sure I didn't trip on them. It was getting closer to the time I needed to be up and getting things ready for the boys for the day. But as I entered the living room, I stopped.

Kris, Beau, and Gab were standing in a line, facing Joe's sleeping figure on the couch. Their expressions were blank as they stared. Gab flicked his hand in Joe's direction, signalling something to his brothers.

Beau looked to Kris. Kris looked hesitant and nervous.

"What are you boys doing?" I asked lightly.

They all jumped and faced me, eyes wide. I gave them a small laugh before continuing to the kitchen. "Go get dressed and ready for school then come down for breakfast," I told them.

They all scurried up the stairs to their bed rooms. I could hear Beau singing a French song loudly and off tune from his room. I laughed. It was one of those habits that made me love my son so much more. I could hear Gab telling him to stop singing the same song in French. Kris quickly piped in that he love the song, as a matter of fact.

I didn't but in, knowing they'd work it out between themselves soon enough. I laid out six slices of bread onto the large island in our kitchen. I began assembling their sandwiches and lunches for the day. This was a habit I'd started their first day of school and honestly, I prefered it. It was nice knowing that they had good food in their lunch sacks rather than the questionable food I knew school cafeterias served.

"Morning," Joe mumbled groggily as he walked into the kitchen.

I glanced up at him. My back stiffened slightly as I went back to preparing the sandwiches. "Morning," I responded.

He stood awkwardly at the opposite side of the island. I walked past him to put the cheese back into the fridge and pick up some carrots.

Just as I moved to go back to my spot, he caught me around the waist and tugged me back. I gave him a pointed look, which he ignored. "I'm sorry about last night," he told me simply.

Before I responded, his lips collided with mine as if everything was fixed and perfect. I pushed him back. "Joseph..." I began slowly.

He groaned and rolled his head back. "What? I said I was sorry!" he exclaimed. "Just give me a da-"

"Kris is crying!" Beau announced suddenly from the living room.

I jumped slightly and tried to get a look at where Kris was. "Where is he?" I asked.

Beau glanced to his side. He didn't respond and didn't look like he planned on responding.

I let out a tired sigh and put the food on the counter before skirting around Joe to get to my children. As I approached, the figures of my other two songs laying flush against the couch cussions. I gave Beau an expectant look. He gave me a small shrug before running off to the kitchen for breakfast. Kris and Gab followed, giggling to themselves.

Their curly dark brown hair looked so much like their father's...

I quickly pushed the thought from my head and went back to finish their lunches. Joe brought down the boxes of cereal to pour the food into bowls for each of the boys. Cheerios disappeared like no one's business in our house. Each boy had their undying love for the cereal so it was always promised to be stocked in our cupboards.

As I looked up at them munching on their breakfast, I couldn't help but stop. The way they smiled and giggled reminded me of their dad. He used to have that same bright smile and look in his brown eyes when he was happy.

I didn't know why he was coming to mind so much this morning, but I knew it was bound to happen eventually. We lived in the same city now. My mind was always processing the constant worry of running into him and having to explain everything. So far, though, luck had been on my side. He was nowhere in sight and for that, I was greatful.

Yet as Joe grimaced at the sloppy eating manners of four year olds, my smile faded. He didn't feel the happiness I felt in the small things they did. As much as he tried, he was never really going to be their dad. He would never feel as proud or happy as I would. He would never feel their pain as much as I would. He would never love them as much as I would.

He was only second best, if that.

"Kris! Don't mess with your food! Eat it with your spoon!" he scolded loudly.

And he yelled too much at them.