I hadn’t realized that Ben and I had grown much closer since Gina’s death, since I was his sole caretaker and parent. He came to me for every problem. We clung on to each other in our grief. He was the only thing that made me happy, and our entire existence was only for each other.
That’s all melting away now as Ben is opening up to a new relationship and I can’t help but feel somewhat jealous over it. Ludicrous, I know, but there you have it.
As I reach my locker, I pull out my phone and quickly call Kate. She answers with that country drawl of hers: “Hey, Zack.”
“I’m going to go out with some teammates for a bit tonight. Not sure when I’ll be home…probably late.”
“Roger dodger,” she says merrily, and because my eyes don’t naturally roll at her goofiness, I realize I’m starting to get used to her dorky nature. “Want to speak to Ben?”
“Yup,” I acknowledge, and I hear her pull the phone away from her mouth and call out, “Hey, Ben…put down that stick of dynamite you’re playing with and come talk to your daddy.”
That causes me to issue a half-smile/half-grimace.
I’m torn between being amused at her humor, because there’s no doubt she’s trying to get a smile out of me, and annoyed that she references me as his “daddy.” Ben has always called me “Dad,” but Kate always says “Daddy,” because that’s apparently what all southern girls call their fathers. She doesn’t mean anything by it, I know that logically. She’s just going with her habit…a southern custom, so to speak. And now Ben has started calling me “Daddy” lately and it actually shames me that I find irritation in it rather than thinking it’s cute.
Yup…it irritates the shit out of me. But then I give myself a mental slap and make myself try to think of the positives that Kate brings. Such as that while she focuses most of her energies on Ben, she also gladly steps away from him when I’m home, seeming to sense my need to also provide a caretaker role. I grudgingly admit she goes out of her way not to step on my toes as his father, and she always defers to me in all child-rearing matters.
“Hey, Daddy,” Ben says as he takes the phone, and fuck…is that a little southern accent he’s mimicking? I grit my teeth over my new moniker.
“How’s it going, buddy?” I ask him gently, so he can’t hear the disgruntlement in my voice.
“Good,” he says simply. “Kate and I are playing with Play-Doh. She showed me how to make a snake with it and said we should hide it in your bed to scare you tonight. That would be funny, wouldn’t it?”
I hear Kate mutter in the background, “That was a secret, Ben.”
And there’s just no stopping it.
I laugh…genuinely…pleased to see how Kate still tries to involve me even when I’m absent from home. “That would have been funny for sure.”Ben then whispers into the phone, “Maybe I should hide it in Kate’s bed.”
I laugh harder now, because that would be fucking funny. I love my kid. “Tell you what, if you promise to keep it a secret, we’ll buy a fake snake that looks even more real than the Play-Doh one, and we’ll hide it in her bed. But it has to be a secret, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispers as he giggles.
“So, listen…I’m going to go out with some friends tonight, so I won’t be home to tuck you into bed. Is that okay?”
“Okay,” Ben says, completely unfazed, and it makes me feel better to know he’s seemingly secure enough with this. I’ve been home every single night since I was released from the hospital following the accident and I think he’s forgotten what it was like before when I would be on the road traveling a lot.
“Good boy,” I tell him. “Okay, I’ve got to go. I love you and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Love you too, Daddy,” he says.
“Dad,” I correct him automatically, but he’s already handed the phone off to Kate.
“I swear the snake was Ben’s idea, not mine,” she says when she gets back on.
I can’t fucking help it…the corners of my mouth tip upward involuntarily. While Kate’s main duties are to take care of Ben and her secondary duties are to help me take care of the house, she’s also apparently put it on her chore list to try to make me laugh. She is a complete and utter dork sometimes, always dancing around and making up stupid songs to sing to Ben. She makes up a different nickname for me and Ben each day, refusing to call us by our real names unless we acknowledge her use of the nickname at least once. Ben always gives in because he thinks they’re hilarious. Just yesterday he was Mr. Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole and I was Miss Sparkly Skates.
Yesterday, she asked, “Hey, Miss Sparkly Skates,” which caused Ben to double over in laughter, “I’m doing a grocery run today; anything special you want?”
I refused to answer her, instead continuing to surf on my laptop while I sat at the kitchen table.
“Hey…Miss Sparkly Skates…I’m talking to you,” she called out in a singsong voice.
I took a sip of coffee and ignored Ben’s conspiratorial giggle.
“Hey…Miss Sparkly Skates…what’s wrong? Did you lose some rhinestones or something?”
I looked up at her and she just stared at me from behind those thick eyeglass frames, her head tilted to the side in anticipation.