This story takes place after “Leaving Rainbow House.”
Closing the door to his sister’s one story house, the man placed his car keys into his pocket and headed straight towards the rudimentary family room, briefly glancing at his watch to verify it was after midnight. He could hear Krista’s dogs barking in their cages in the backyard, and the many cats she had were roaming about the premises. The dogs were always kept outside, but the cats were permitted inside. Why in the world his sister needed so many cats was beyond him. Hardly any of the cats were spayed or neutered, allowing them to breed exponentially. At least they were litter trained outdoors.
He had just moved in a few months ago, along with his six children: Marissa, Dawn, Edan, Angie, Rafe and Lydia. All the children ranged in age from about twelve to two years-old. All the kids were born consecutively two years apart from one another during his second marriage. All except for Dawn and Edan, she only fourteen months older her younger brother. He had recently divorced his wife after a trial separation, and she put her children in foster care while she attempted to rebuild her life.
He was now going after his ex-wife for child support, the money it cost to raise six children was a lot more than he had thought. During the several months after separating from his family, frugality wasn’t a problem; but after getting his kids, he had to spend a great deal more money as they were quickly growing out of their clothes, shoes, and consumed more food in one day than he did in a week. it was hard explaining everything to his children with all the questions they fired about the divorce, why they were left with strangers, and why they were living with their Aunt.
The children were having trouble adjusting to their new school. Their third school system in just one year. The hand-me-down clothes they wore and the smell of the wood furnace that kept the house warm emanated off their skin, proving them to be poor. The kids easily became targets for ridicule at school.
Marissa was about to turn twelve in the spring. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face dealing with the needs of a pre-teen daughter. None kids had much privacy at the moment and it was just beginning to show. What made matters worse, they soon learned how poorly the addition to Krista’s house had been. When it rained, it often leaked in the rooms the kids slept in. Living in such miserable conditions, they began have territorial fights – who got to sit where, when, and for how long, including fighting for their father’s attention. There wasn’t much he could do to meet every child’s need for attention and their complaints, which is what he often dismissed.
Since he worked late nights at his job, he needed day care. Something affordable, or better yet, free. Krista’s oldest son, Damien had agreed to watch the children after school when the family moved in. Damien was in High School, but didn’t have much of a social life, so providing day care for his uncle didn’t put a dent in his daily routine of staying home after school.
Stepping down into the family room, the house was surprisingly quiet. However, he had worked later than usual this evening, he thought, so everyone was asleep. He gladly accepted overtime when he could in order to save up money to get a better place to live.
He checked on the girls sleeping in their room off to the left, then headed straight across the family room to “his” room where his two sons slept. He was hoping the bed had been big enough for the three of them to share, but with his boys growing so fast, he typically slept on the couch to make everyone comfortable. Seeing everyone sleeping soundly, sauntered over to the middle of the family room where the wood furnace was burning. He opened the iron door, loaded a few logs inside to hopefully keep burning through the rest of the night. There were a few logs still hot inside, so he reached for the poker and shifted the fire within until one of the fresh logs caught fire.
Settling down onto the couch to finally get some sleep, he suddenly heard a low hum of what could only be the engine of a car, and the crunch of wheels grinding into the gravel in the driveway. Getting up to see who was approaching the house at this hour, he looked out the window to see the headlights illuminate the car of his ex-wife.
It wasn’t unusual for her to be at the house, the two of them had come to a truce for the sake of the children, and worked out visitation with their mother. It was unusual that she was here at this time of night, he reached down to open the front door, nebulous to what he was about to encounter. What the hell was she doing here? The car came to a stop just as he peered outside, seeing his oldest son, Jason, who he had contact with off and on since the separation, get out of the passenger side of the car. Since the separation, Jason had been bouncing from one friend’s house to the next, eventually living with him temporarily before deciding to move in with his mother.
Jason shut the door to the car, holding a single suitcase in his right hand. He was cradling his left arm next to his body, and he appeared to be in pain. Jason gave his father a vague smile, and started walking towards the house, and his mother backed out of the driveway with brevity, giving a brief goodbye to her son, and not having any communication with her ex-husband at all.
“Hey Dad… can I stay here for a while?” Jason asked humbly, he had approached the steps with apprehension, unsure of what response he was going to get.
“Uh… ok… what the hell is wrong with your arm?” His father replied.
“I think it’s broken. Mom and I got into an argument and I punched the wall. I told her to drive me here.”
The man sighed and stepped aside as his son ascended the steps. He asked Jason if he wanted to go to the hospital. The young man said it would probably be best. His arm was hardly functional. By the time they got home, it was nearly morning. The man instructed his son to sleep on the sofa in the family room, forfeiting his own place of rest, and climbed into bed with his two young boys who were still fast asleep.
The next morning, as the man went about waking up his young children for school, they all inquired about the long haired man sleeping on the couch. The younger children didn’t recognize their older brother since it had been so long since they’d seen him. The older three of the kids recognized him right away, and asked why he was there and what was wrong with his arm. Jason was sleeping with his arm in a sling, and didn’t stir much while they ate breakfast and got ready for the day. Their father merely explained their older brother had come over the night before and was going to be staying with them at the house for a while.
The story continues in “Playing Dead.”