He showed up on my porch this morning as I was leaving for work, crying and holding a money order in his hand. It was for his half of the rent at the apartment he's sharing with a friend. "This was supposed to be for our vacation", he cried. I held him in the doorway while he sobbed on my shoulder.
He left on Sunday; moved out, said he couldn't live here anymore. I don't support him enough, he said, like a wife should. He wants to try marriage counseling, but says that he can't move back in, not to this place, my parent's house.
I invited him in, told him that we would still go on a vacation. We can save the money again. Saving doesn't come easy to him. He spends freely, without guilt, buys what he wants without remorse. This thought, of saving again, just makes him cry more. It's okay, we can still take the boys to the amusement park. "But that's not the big vacation I was envisioning..." Oh, well, I say, it will have to do.
I told him to come over whenever he wants. He needs to see the boys. Come over after work sometimes, I tell him. Don't let himself become a stranger to Ian. We can all go out to dinner. He nods and wipes his eyes.
We hear Ian talking in his crib, waking for the day. "Da-da, da-da, da-da" he sings. We spy on him, making his teddy bear dance to the rhythm of his song. Nick bursts into the room and Ian jumps to stand, excited to see the subject of his morning song. But he sees me hiding in the doorway and laughs at me instead, arms outstretched. Ian's way of letting Nick know that he's upset by Daddy's sudden absense: ignoring him completely.
I give Ian a kiss and Nick one more hug. I leave them both standing in the kitchen, deciding what cereal to start the day with. Day by day, I think, just take it day by day and we'll see where it goes.