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“Can we go down together?” Daniel asked.
“On three,” I said. “Come on. Get in my lap.”
I pushed us down the waterslide that jutted off a small balcony at the top edge of the house. We rounded down, the water pushing us as we went careening toward the ocean. We tumbled off the side and went underwater, the salted mixture engulfing our bodies.
The sound of my twins giggling warmed my heart as they emerged.
“That was awesome!” Daniel shouted.
“I wanna do it again!” Sydney added.
“Then go on! Do it again! I’ll watch you guys from here,” I said.
I stood in the waist-deep water and watched my kids slide down over and over again. They were having the time of their lives and it filled me with joy.
Their mother didn’t know what she was missing out on.
Her fucking loss.
After hours of playing in the sun and realizing I didn’t put enough sunblock on them, I got my kids inside and washed up. My stomach was growling for some food, and by the time I had them ready to go it would be dinner time. I got us all dressed and loaded into the golf cart I’d purchased to ride around the island in, then we set off into the small Caribbean town in search of food.
I nearly drove off the small cart path when my eyes landed on the woman standing just off to the side.
No. It couldn’t be.
Fuck.
Standing there, not ten feet in front of me was my ex-wife, Sarah; the absentee mother of my children. Of all places to run into her after all these years. “Kevin,” she said, looking as surprised to see me as I was to see her, “What brings you here?”
“Spring break. With my kids. You?” I asked.
I made sure to emphasize the ‘my’ in case she got any ideas.
“I’m here on vacation with my boyfriend,” she said. “I guess this place has always been my favorite after you introduced me to it. It always feels like home.”
I felt my kids press into me as I wrapped a protective arm around them.
“Glad I could help.” I said, flatly.
“How—are things?” Sarah asked.
“Good,” I said.
“How’s your company doing?”
“Just fine.”
Her eyes fell to the kids again and I searched her stare for any sign of remorse or guilt, or maternal feelings of any sort. I felt the kids press deeper into me as Sydney gazed up at her. The little girl was the spitting image of Sarah, except she had my eyes. Thankfully, Daniel looked just like me, not an ounce of his mother in his features.
I wondered if they knew who they were looking at. Was there some sort of innate bond between a mother and her children that made them gravitate toward one another? Because it wasn’t like I kept pictures of her around the house or anything.
Sarah was a selfish child, at best. My mind could always come up with more fitting words to describe her, but I chose not to go down that rabbit hole given she was the biological mother of my children.
She’d abandoned us when being a mother became too much. It had taken all of the convincing in the world for me to get her to carry them and give birth instead of terminating her pregnancy when we discovered her birth control had failed.
She looked at her children with such apathy. It made me sick.
“I’m glad you’re doing well,” she said, her eyes finally returning to mine.
