Page 20 of Dad Next Door
“Can I ask something?”
I nodded. “You don’t have to ask permission to ask questions. I might not answer, but you’re free to say whatever you want. In case you haven’t noticed, I give zero fucks about propriety. As long as what you say isn’t hateful or based on misinformation. Those are two hard limits for me. And I’m a millennial. I will come at you with sources and facts if you try to bullshit me.”
He laughed and ran his finger over the rim of his bottle. “I mean, same. All those years of having to double-check sources and fact-check everything you read on the internet trained us to turn every argument into a debate.”
“You said you had a question?” I circled back to what we’d been talking about. I could go on tangents for days if I didn’t check myself.
“Oh, right. I’ve seen an older guy, well, older than me but not old, around your property. I’m ashamed to admit I thought he was the owner when I went over after the Jinx incident. That’s why I was such a blubbering mess. I was expecting to talk to him, and my brain was still scrambled from my day, so I sort of short-circuited and made a fool of myself when you opened the door.”
I chuckled and sipped my beer. I’d wondered why Tristan had seemed so flustered. “That’s my dad.”
Tristan choked on the sip of beer he’d just taken. “Sorry,” he spluttered and pounded on his chest. “That was your dad?”
I was used to this reaction, so I didn’t even blink at his incredulous tone. “Yup.”
“Either he hit the genetic jackpot and looks amazing for his age, or he’s way too young to be a dad to a twenty-eight-year-old.”
“It’s a bit of both, but mostly the second one. He was sixteen when I was born.”
“So your dad is only six years older than me.” He pursed his lips. “Yup. This is one of those moments where I feel my age.”
“Everyone takes different paths in life.” I took a long draw from my beer. “Age is only a number.”
“So they say.”
The silence between us stretched.
“Your ex sounds like someone hit him with a bag of ugly,” I said to lighten the mood. “We could talk about that.”
Tristan spluttered again, but this time with laughter. “Are you sure you’re ready for this conversation?”
“I’m all about the tea. Hit me.” I made a bring it motion with my hand.
“Simon is…exhausting.” He held up his bottle and peered into it, gently swirling the liquid around. “We have 50/50 custody, and Leo goes between our houses every Friday. That means he does a week with me, then a week with Simon. Lather, rinse, repeat.”
“So that’s a regular thing, the pickup?”
He nodded. “Every other Friday. Our arrangement says he’s supposed to pick him up at six, the same as I do on opposite weeks, but Simon likes to be in control, and he knows how much I hate feeling out of control.”
I made a sympathetic sound, giving him the space to keep talking if he wanted.
“Everything is a power play to him. I buy Leo new shoes for school, let him pick the ones he wants, then they ‘disappear’ on Simon’s week, and he buys him expensive replacements that aren’t what Leo wants or likes. Same with his toys or whatever he’s interested in at the moment. I want him to figure out who he is on his own, but Simon is always pushing the things he feels are appropriate on him, which really just means what’s popular or trendy or what he likes.”
“That’s frustrating,” I said softly. I could tell by how the words just spilled out of him that he’d been holding this in for a long time.
“So frustrating. And pointless. It’s like when he ignores the schedule and just shows up whenever he wants. He knows it bothers me when people don’t respect other people’s time. I get it if you’re running late or something came up, but it’s the lack of communication that drives me nuts. Simon is the most punctual person I’ve ever known. He used to stand in the doorway of our room when I’d get ready for whatever thing we had to go to and make sure I didn’t take more than my allotted time. And more than once, he turned off the water so I couldn’t take a shower before we had to be somewhere because I got home later than I was supposed to and ‘lost’ my shower privileges. I work in animal medicine. Trust me when I say everyone wants me to shower after work.”
I bit the inside of my lip so I didn’t show any sort of emotion. Controlling was one thing, but what Tristan was describing sounded more like abuse.
“The worst part is how his behavior forces me to cover for him with Leo. He doesn’t understand that he’s only hurting our son with these stupid head games. He doesn’t see how worried Leo gets when he’s hours late with no word or how sad it makes him to think his dad forgot about him or doesn’t want to see him. It kills me that I have to make excuses for his bullshit when he's the one who’s actively hurting our child because he’s trying to hurt me.”
“That’s not okay. Kids should never be put in the middle of adult problems. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
The more Tristan told me, the more it sounded like he’d escaped not just a bad marriage, but an abusive one. The whole concept of an adult having shower privileges in their own home was baffling to me. What else had Simon convinced Tristan was normal when it clearly wasn’t?
“At least he left his boy toy at home.” He sighed into his bottle.
“Boy toy?”