Love was an impossible promise that we made. Wishes and dreams were never guaranteed, but we promised never to give up, no matter how far waters pulled us into the deepest seas. And there were always too many waves crashing into our sunset, but love was a promise we tried to keep, regardless of pain or unseen regrets.

If there were ever a page dedicated to our story in the life of the world, it would have read “Meathead and Loser were stupid” or “Meathead and Loser were devoted.” But it would never say we saw the future or planned very well. Everyone knew about well-made plans; they always came undone.

TV shows and movies made people into heroes or villains. It was never enough to settle down somewhere. But in the real world, success didn’t mean becoming a millionaire. Success didn’t mean becoming a mayor, fighting crime, or winning awards. In the real world, success came down to simple things.

Minor things made the most significant difference.

I had success with Meathead. I had success with Tommy. In so many ways, we had everything, but then that letter came in the mail. Suddenly, nothing was enough.

We moved. It was sudden and a little rushed. It was very rushed.

Tom, me, River, Cindy, and Malcolm. The five of us found a house in Seattle. Cindy wanted Malcolm to know his father, but she never asked for child support. It was Tom’s idea for us all to live under a single roof. River hated the idea. But for me, I was undecided. I was in shock from it all. The breakneck speed at which Tom opened our door to his ex was staggering. The entire process left me speechless. For days that turned into weeks, I stood petrified. And during the move, when I finally met her, I was no better.

What could I say to this girl my boyfriend knocked up in high school? What could I say to his son? Nothing. I could say nothing without being the bad guy.

If nothing else, I finally had an office again. Our house had four bedrooms and a front and back yard. Even our living room was bigger than the apartment. We traded up, but that didn’t mean much.

“He’ll be five next month,” Cindy said.

“We should have a party,” Tom Suggested between taking bites.

The five of us had only finished unpacking a day before. I had to get used to the new location and Tom’s ex. Seeing them together rubbed me the wrong way. River was at work, and Malcolm was sleeping, so it was just the three of us having dinner in the kitchen. Were they alone, and I was a stranger watching from afar? How could I begin to join a conversation about their son? Malcolm wasn’t my kid.

What were we doing? Pretending to be one big, happy family? I suppose it was better than the alternatives. Court drama would have been a pain and worse, a hardship for the kid. But none of that took away from the fact that we were lying to ourselves. It couldn’t be that easy. House or no house, some things were on fire.

They didn’t ask for my opinion that night. They didn’t look my way. If Tom was with me, why did I feel like a third wheel? Had it been up to me, Tom would have never known about his son. Had it been up to me, Cindy would have stayed in Oklahoma, far from my boyfriend. The thought made me sick. I didn’t want to be that person, but I couldn’t change my heart. Regardless, I had to be supportive. I had to be cordial.

“We could take him to UpHill,” I interrupted with a forced smile of optimism.

We had all been sitting at the same wooden table for 15 minutes, but the sudden sound of my voice startled them.

“The water park?” Cindy asked suggestively.

“Yeah,” I said.

Her tone shot me before her next thought surfaced.

“Malcolm can’t swim,” she explained, but I argued, “He could learn.”

“What if it rains?”

“Then we’ll take him somewhere else,” I said.

Was I being aggressive? Was I being argumentative? For the first time in weeks, I stepped out of myself, only to find my idea tossed without further thought. Sure, my voice might have become harsher than intended.

“That’s not how you plan a party,” she said, dismissing me with the subtlety of a falling brick.

Tom wouldn’t say anything as he continued to eat. The table went silent, aside from the crunch of his chips, until I stood from my seat.

“It’s just an idea,” I said before leaving the room.

No one meant to make a scene or start drama, least of all me, but I expected Tom to follow after me. I went down the hall and upstairs to our room before I realized he wasn’t coming.

He wasn’t going to follow.

If I listened hard enough, I could hear them laughing at one another. Tom and Cindy. I listened to them go on without me until I heard something peculiar.

It was coming from Tom's and my bedroom.

Stepping through the door, I flicked on the light to find Malcolm in the middle of the carpeted floor. With both hands, he was holding a yellow and red toy ray gun aimed at me. I tried to approach him, but he shot at me, saying, “bang, bang.” I froze as if I’d actually been shot. As much as I hated his mother, and I hated his mother more than I could say, Malcolm was just a kid.

I fell over and played dead. It was a good performance. I stuck my tongue out and crossed my eyes. The little devil came closer and shot at me some more. That’s when I grabbed him. He dropped his gun soon after.

“You should be in bed,” I said, picking him up and carrying him out of the room over my shoulder like I’d seen Tom do.

“But practice,” he said while giggling and laughing.

I took him downstairs to his bedroom across the hall from his mother’s. As rough as I had it, Malcolm might have had it worse. For almost five years, he grew up without a father, and then his entire life was uprooted in an instant. His bedroom was a mess of toys, but were action figures enough to make up for that lost time?

I sat him in his bed before tucking him in and asking, “practice for what?”

“Monsters,” he said.

I chuckled and told him, “We don’t have monsters.”

I didn’t want to be a monster. We were lucky to work things out with Cindy as smoothly as we had. We were fortunate to find a house. Even if I felt cheated, we had too much to be thankful for. Even if I felt pushed to the side, we were still together... only with more pieces than we started.