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“Three compartments?” Matty’s eyes go wide as he slips his hand into Addison’s and she maneuvers him toward one of the groups. What the fuck is she doing? He hates crowds. He won’t want to go through them.
“Mmhmm.” She nods. “They don’t just spit a little either, they spit a lot.” Pressing her hand to his lower back, she guides him through the crowd.
“Just wait for them to pass.”
“It’s all good,” she replies, moving ahead.
A tightness creeps up my chest as they walk forward. I should have gone first, cleared some space for Matty to walk through, but Addison didn’t talk to me before she decided to just bull her way through a group of thirty elementary school kids.
When she turns and beckons me toward them, her nose wrinkles. “You okay?” she mouths.
Nodding, I step toward her. As I do, two of the kids not looking at the fruit bats the rest of their class is scrambling to see, crash into my kid, sending Matty flat on his face.
Pushing past Addison, I reach for him. He waves me off, already scrambling to his feet, his shoulders shaking as tears plop onto his t-shirt.
His bottom lip trembles as he hugs his body. There’s dirt on his knees, but other than being a little skinned, there’s no blood or any other marks on him that I can see. I offer him a hug he doesn’t accept. “You okay?” My eyes scan his body once again, making sure he didn’t land on something sharp.
“I’m fine, Dad. Just surprised me.”
He’s not fine. Neither am I. What was Adi thinking pulling him through a group of kids like that? Matty isn’t like other kids. He doesn’t like crowds, and noise, and she knows that.
As I’m checking him over for a third time, Addison’s hand touches my arm. “He’s okay, Thor. Really, he’s not bleeding.”
She crouches to look at his knees. “Barely a scratch.” She brushes off some tiny pebbles and dirt.
“What were you thinking?” Grinding the words out between clenched teeth, I look around. Teachers and helpers are watching, other parents stare as Matty’s cries escalate from his quiet shoulder-shakes to all out sobbing.
“You should have waited.” Directing my attention back to Matty, I try to offer him another hug, or at least touch his arm to try to soothe him. But he’s not interested. He bats me away like it’s my fault. Except it’s not. I didn’t do this. I told her to wait.
Guiding Matty out of the crowd, I search for somewhere quiet to sit him down. But the more I try to help him settle, the more agitated he gets. He throws his water bottle at a nearby wall before slumping onto the ground.
“Do you want me to try?”
“Haven’t you done enough?” The words are laced with venom as they come out of my mouth, and part of me knows it’s misdirected. She didn’t do it on purpose. It’s not her fault we can’t have a “normal” trip to the zoo like I did when I was a child. This is about me, my failings as a father to provide a safe and comfortable experience for my child. But right now, right now it’s about Addison and how she should have fucking listened to me when I asked her to wait.
Her shoulders slump, and part of me wants to take the words back, knowing they’re hitting her in all her insecurities. My kitten doesn’t back down, though. “It could help, Thor.”
It’s here where I should stop and take a beat. Rationally speaking, I know I shouldn’t lash out, but I don’t stop myself when another retort burns at the back of my mouth. “What would you know?”
CHAPTER22
Addison
He mumbles somethingin response that I can’t quite make out.
“What?”
“I said what would you know? You’re not exactly all that experienced with children, are you?”
He doesn’t need to mention the fact that a child under my care almost drowned, or that my sister thinks I’m incompetent and won’t let me babysit for her kids. The implication is sharp and heavy in his words, and my whole body recoils.
He’s just saying that to hurt me, to make me feel as badly as he does. It’s classic deflection. Snap at the person trying to help make you feel better, to hurt them.
I have no idea why the human psyche works the way it does, but I know this move. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though. Misdirected anger is anger all the same.
We’ve gone from “such a good girl,” to “you’re a shit childcare provider” in such a short space of time that I’ve got emotional whiplash. And while I feel for the guy, I’m no one’s fucking punching bag. I didn’t deserve that comment, and neither Matthew nor I deserve Thor’s shitty attitude.
He and I had broached the subject of perhaps finding a therapist for Matthew. Being dumped on your father’s doorstep out of the blue is a traumatic experience and will likely need worked through. But the more I see of Thor today, the more I realize that perhaps they both could do with having some professional help to work through their issues. Perhaps even father-son therapy – is that even a thing?
