Malcolm’s 5th birthday could have gone better. It should have been better.

“We should have gone to the water park. It’s been sunny all day,” I argued after spending an hour walking around a museum.

Malcolm’s birthday was at a wax museum. It was his mother’s idea.

“It’s not so bad,” Tom said.

He was right beside me. At Malcolm's party, we were trailing behind the main group of children. We were all being shown exhibits by a tour guide.

“He hates it here,” I said.

“He’s having fun,” Tom debated against what we could obviously see.

Malcolm and most of the other children were hardly awake after the second exhibit. Most of them were beginning to grow restless. Malcolm, the birthday boy, was at the front of the group, standing beside his mother, who tried her hardest to make things eventful.

“Kids like games and sports, not art history and creepy-looking statues,” I joked, with an air of serious straining to remain playful.

“So you wouldn’t have liked this party at his age?” Tom asked.

“He’s not my son,” I said.

“If you’re mine, and I’m yours, I think that makes him your stepson,” Tom joked, as he had been for many weeks, without grasping the severity of his thought.

I’m sure at that point, everyone was ready to get to the end of the tour so we could eat cake and open gifts. Myself included.

“I know this was my mistake. You didn’t...it’s not your fault that we’re... I want us to all get along,” Tom said, struggling to put his thoughts together, but I got the message.

“I do too,” I said.

“Then maybe, don’t be so hard on Cindy,” he added, and my eyes shot open at the insinuation.

“What more do you want me to do? She’s living with us!” My voice echoed around the room, shocking everyone into silence.

Before anyone could say a word, I walked away. Tom tried to catch my arm. He tried to pull me back, but I refused him, until even he had to let me and the moment go.

It was an odd mix of emotions. On the one hand, I wanted Malcolm to be happy, but he wasn’t my kid. His mother annoyed me, and I hated having to share. Tom might have gotten a woman pregnant, but his mistake had become mine all the same. I knew I had to either accept it or be miserable, but staying on one side of the line was anything but easy.

The museum was grand. With ten exhibits, I had plenty of space to wander by myself while everyone else enjoyed the party. I found myself in an imitation rain forest, with wild animals carved from wax hiding in bushes and trees. It was beautiful. Had I been Malcolm’s age, I would have loved a party there. Why was I so defensive over a kid I tried to distance myself from? The idea was ridiculous at best and confusing at worst.

“Party over?” A voice caught me off guard.

Turning my head to the right, I found River sitting on a wooden bench smoking pot.

“Not yet,” I answered.

He sighed and exhaled a cloud of smoke into the green room.

“How old is he again?”

“Five,” I said, crossing my arms and looking up into the trees.

“At least we didn’t have to change diapers,” River joked.

I sat beside him while his smoke acted as a fog. The scent of it was sweet, but faintly so.

“Your brother is an idiot.”

“That he is.”

“But I love him,” I remarked.

“Guess that makes you a bigger idiot, or wait, what does he always call you? Loser! That makes you a bigger loser,” he laughed softly.

“Tom gets to call me that,” I said.

“Whatever. We both know you got the shit end of the straw in this,” he offered.

“We can make it work,” I argued.

Exhausted, I held my hand out and asked, “Can I?”

River passed me his solution to stress before standing up.

“By all means, Captain. Let Tom know I’m heading home. All these plastic eyeballs give me the creeps,” he said.

“Sure,” I agreed before taking a long drag, but by the time I exhaled, River was still there.

“You could come with,” he suggested.

As much as I might have wanted an easy way out, I couldn’t leave. I cared too much for that.

“I should stay... I’m a stepdad now,” I joked, but there was a smoke of truth to it.

As River took back his pot, he remarked, “You really are a loser.”