Neil
I know very little about Neil.
I know that he’s not Neil Kramer and that he’s not Neil Young. I know my daughter calls him Noodle, because he’s skinny, and she told me he’s a scientist, which only serves to highlight how truly little I know about Neil. I didn’t ask her what kind of scientist because that would feel like prying and so these few vague brush strokes are the only things I know about him. Oh. I also know he’s dating my ex-wife.
*
I frequently watch the kids at Jenna’s house for a couple reasons. All their stuff is there and, more often than not, Jenna works past their bedtimes. Me taking care of them there helps maintain some stability and assures a steady bedtime. I usually take them out to eat or bring my own food but, a couple days ago, Jenna asked me if I’d make them the leftover chili in the fridge. No problem.
But when dinner time rolled around, the kids didn’t want chili. They wanted the super awesome homemade macaroni and cheese because it was so fucking good my god the macaroni, the breadcrumbs, the cheese, etc. When you’re divorced co-parents, it’s essential to be clear about what each of you wants and to follow through but—hey man—the kids didn’t want the chili. They wanted the macaroni. So I heated it up and when I began to spoon it into bowls, my daughter was telling me how good it was, that she couldn’t wait, that Noodle made it.
And that’s how I found myself, alive, in the world, serving my children macaroni and cheese cooked up by my ex-wife’s boyfriend.
*
I smiled. I’m serious. I honestly smiled and drifted into a flashback of my not-yet-step-dad coming to visit my mom ON A MOTORCYCLE. I remember sitting behind him, hugging him so tight, excited and scared—a contradiction—ON A MOTORCYCLE. That motorcycle ride taught me a basic truth that has since dwelled in my heart and tenaciously remains. Listen. No matter how broken everything feels—and believe me, I felt broken; I feel broken—and no matter how bleak and alone and scared you are, someone is coming. They are. I promise. They’re coming for you and they’re coming ON A MOTHERFUCKING MOTORCYCLE.
When he gassed up, he bought me a Butterfinger and I was sold. He’s still married to my mom, in love, getting old.
*
So I scooped it into their bowls, humbled with gratitude, bittersweetly pleased that Jenna had met a man she felt strongly enough about to allow into our family’s circle. If you’re kind to my children, Neil, if you make them macaroni and cheese, I will serve it. I am in your service. Because, beyond my feelings and beyond my ego, I need my kids to know and believe in macaroni and motorcycles.
*
But me? I ate the chili. I ate the chili and wondered how fast Neil could kick off a 10K.
*
K.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Reader Comments (57)
We just had our 12 year old grandson (that we rarely see) come stay with us for spring break. We didn't do much but lay around, play in the sun, and have dinner as a family. When the week was over and he was returned home, he cried like a baby, distraught because he missed us. His parents were dumbfounded. I believe his emotional outburst was because no matter how much they love him, his parents no longer respect each other, and haven't for some time. Returning to a home filled with conflict was a shock to him after a week with no conflict.
Staying together for the sake of the children is a fable. Being a loving adult for the sake of the children is parenting. I loved this post!
I have looked at this post a dozen times over the past couple of days. I still don't feel like I have the right words.
But I am astounded how you twist pain into beauty and then make me feel guilty for loving it so. You're ahead of the pack. Don't slow down for even a second.
I'm finding it hard to articulate how much I love what you've said here
Not just the message but the truly incredible way in which the message was written. Tell me again why you're not famous yet.
The first guy my mom dated when my parents split - the guy who felt the most like a stepdad when I was a kid - had a motorcycle, a Trans Am (WITH Firebird) and a big fat sense of humor. He owned a box factory. We once had a bunch of turquoise and hot pink Chinese food boxes around the house that he manufactured as the packaging for some 1980s fashion accessory.
He came to my high school graduation and my wedding. He also came to my uncle and my actual stepdad's funeral last year.
I hope everyone you and your ex bring into your kid's lives cares for them and brings something new and memorable and awesome into their lives, whether it turns into a lifetime partnership or not. I hope that for my son too.
P.S. I'm going to dream of those conveyor belts full of boxes. Thank you for taking me back there.
This is badass.
I am new here, but I am glad I found you. Divorce is hard on everyone. Remarriage can also be hard on everyone. You make it all sound good. It's inspiring. My son has a step-dad who loves him, plays video games with him and teaches him soccer. He also has a wonderful dad who loves him, goes on hikes with him and teaches him about music. I would have liked to say that I was only married once, forever, but life happens.
My son wakes up one week in my house and the next week in his dad's house. He never doubts that he is loved, and despite my worry, my son has told me, so I know that, "each morning [he wakes up] secure in the knowledge that the love that created [him] is not fleeting or fickle."
I am new here, but I am glad I found you. Divorce is hard on everyone. Remarriage can also be hard on everyone. You make it all sound good. It's inspiring. My son has a step-dad who loves him, plays video games with him and teaches him soccer. He also has a wonderful dad who loves him, goes on hikes with him and teaches him about music. I would have liked to say that I was only married once, forever, but life happens.
My son wakes up one week in my house and the next week in his dad's house. He never doubts that he is loved, and despite my worry, my son has told me, so I know that, "each morning [he wakes up] secure in the knowledge that the love that created [him] is not fleeting or fickle."