Page 31 of Forever King

As I walk past Duck in the kitchen making a drink, I say, “I’ll be back down in the minute. Just give me time to get Lily changed and into bed.”

Again, my wife doesn’t respond with words but only shrugs. Something tells me when I come back downstairs that we’re going to have a conversation. About what, I’m not sure.

The baby needs a diaper change desperately since she’s soaking wet, so it takes me about ten minutes before I get her settled into her crib. She falls asleep before I can even say goodnight, so I kiss her on the top of her head, inhaling the soft scent of her dark hair, and make sure her nightlight is on before I close the door.

I never dreamed I’d want to be this hands-on with a baby, but I have to admit I enjoy it. Well, not the shitty diapers that make my stomach turn or the unrelenting screaming our daughter sometimes loves to do, but overall, being a dad is surprisingly fun for me.

When I get down to the kitchen, Duck has a glass of whiskey in her hand, which seems strange. I don’t think I’ve seen her drink anything since Lily was born.

I sit down at the kitchen island and wait for her to say something. She doesn’t, so I finally say, “Tough night.” It’s not what I really want to say about another bad visit to her parents’ house, but it says enough.

She finishes her drink and pours another without offering me one, which is also odd. Duck must be angry with me.

“Well, I guess we better get this fight going. I suspect you’re tired, and I know I am, so let’s do this so we can get to sleep.”

Duck glares at me before taking a hefty gulp of whiskey. “I wish you understood the position you put me in, Marius. That’s my only issue with you.”

“The position I put you in?” I ask in near shock. “I don’t put you in any position. Your mother does. She gets the blame forevery visit being awful, not me. You should be talking to her about that.”

“You know I can’t. She’s my mother. It’s just the way she is.”

I try to keep my cool, but that excuse is pure bullshit. Duck knows it too.

“She’s like this because everyone lets her be like this. It’s not a crime to tell someone no when they’re doing something you don’t like or insulting someone you love, Eden. It would be nice if you defended me when she says things. I’d defend you if anyone dared to say a thing about your parenting, and you know it. Hell, I’d probably deck them if they’re a guy.”

Her reaction of glaring at me like I just said her mother is a complete and total bitch confuses me, but a second later, she snaps, “Why? Are people saying something about my parenting? Is that because I chose to go back to work? Is that it? Who’s saying things? Tell me, Marius. Who? One of your brothers?”

I’m stunned for a moment or two but finally answer, “Nobody. Nobody’s said a word about you going back to work. For Christ’s sake, Duck. It’s the twenty-first century. Lily has a father who is more than capable of taking care of her, and thankfully, he’s got the means to be able to and not have to work full-time. You going back to work is no big deal.”

“Well, it seems like it is.”

Now I’m truly confused. “To who? Your mother? She lives in a decade somewhere around the seventies, so don’t listen to her.”

Duck’s eyes open wide in pure rage, and she slams the glass down onto the counter next to her. “Don’t talk about my mother like that! She raised five kids. Do you think you know all about parenting just because you hang out with Lily on the three days I work? You’re not an expert, you know. Give her some respect. She deserves it.”

Jesus, when the hell did this become about who’s a better parent, me or her mother? And what the hell is with calling what I do with our daughter three days a week hanging out?

“First of all, I never said I know all about being a parent. Christ, I’m new at this just like you are. Second, I don’t hang out with Lily. I’m her father, and I take care of her. I’m not one of those assholes who calls spending time with their kid when their mother isn’t around babysitting. You know that. And third, if your mother wants respect, maybe she should try giving it sometime.”

“This isn’t about my mother!” Duck screams, surprising me with how emotional she is right now. “This is about us. It’s about how you seem to act like you know all about being a good parent to Lily and I don’t. And before you even say a word about what my mother said about Lily being a part of the wedding, I think it would be nice.”

Sure she’s joking to ease the tension, I laugh. “Oh, definitely. Let’s bet on whether or not she lets out a scream like she did tonight as you walk down the aisle with her. That ought to make it a memorable event.”

Tears fill Duck’s eyes, and she struggles not to break down. “Oh, so you think she’d cry because her mother would be the one carrying her? Let me guess. You think she’d be fine if you were the one carrying her.”

I stammer out something about that not being what I meant at all while I try to figure out how to defuse this situation before it gets completely out of hand. I genuinely have no idea how things spiraled out of control this badly tonight, but I suspect it has something to do with her mother. She probably said something to her before she got into the car. Typical Janine. Even when she’s not around, she’s making my life hell.

Tears stream down Duck’s cheeks, so I stand up to give her a hug. She won’t let me, though. Instead, she pushes me away andruns out of the kitchen, leaving me standing there wondering what the hell is going on.

I hurry to the bedroom to comfort her, sure we can get past this disagreement like we always do after coming home from a visit at her parents’ house, but I’m stunned to see her packing a suitcase when I walk into the room. What the hell is happening?

Instead of asking that, I decide maybe a little humor could help the situation. My wife usually loves when I make her laugh, so that seems like the best plan of action right now.

“Did we have a vacation planned and I forgot about it? I hope it’s to an island somewhere that doesn’t have phone service. Just you, me, and Lily hanging out on a beach in the middle of nowhere sounds perfect.”

She doesn’t answer me, so I continue to try to make things better. “Seriously, Duck. What do you think about going somewhere on an impromptu trip? I can get the King Industries plane and we can go anywhere. What are you in the mood for?”

I watch as she tosses in a week’s worth of underwear, T-shirts, shorts, and dresses into the suitcase but doesn’t say a word in response to my attempts at making her smile. Then she marches into the bathroom and comes out with every bottle of shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizer she owns in her arms. After dumping them into the empty side of the suitcase, she looks around our bedroom and zips the damn thing shut.