#again drabble

Johanna leans forward to place a soft, sweet kiss on myrough lips.

Pulling away, she grins wickedly. “That was the ‘G’ versionof the actual kiss that I wanted to give you.”

“NO KISSING!” Calliope demands loudly. She is allJohanna—feisty and bold—and definitely marches to the beat of her own drum.“IT’S GROSS!”

She will be the Christmas Angel in the play at herpre-school because somehow she got all of her classmates to vote for her forthe role.

And there wasn’t even supposed to be a vote.

“I have to kiss your Mama,” I respond as I hear Johannachuckle. “Or else she won’t love me anymore!”

“That’s not true, Daddy,” Adam says softly and seriously. Hegives me a small smile as he climbs onto Johanna’s lap. “Mommy looks at youfunny.”

“Oh, really?” I look over at Johanna, who is suddenlyinterested in the ceiling. I reach over to ruffle Adam’s thick mop of chocolatehair. “What do you mean funny?”

“I dunno,” he replies quietly. “It’s like when you hear anice song and you get a tummy ache. And, everything looks soft and nice…likethe song Mommy was just playing…” He trails off suddenly by his description andburies his face against Johanna.

“You’re a poet, Adam,” I tell him with a proud smile. Hemoves off Johanna and goes to me. I put an arm around his small shoulders so hecan burrow himself against me. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you any different.”

“I’m feeling very neglected,” Johanna says with a pout.“There’s mutiny in this house.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I assure her. “I’ll take care ofyou later.”

Johanna winks at me. “I’m counting on that.”

“Daddy?” I look down at Adam. “Now, you’re looking funny.”

“Well, parents look at each other funny or else you littleones would never come to be,” I inform him with a smile. “What were youlistening to?”

“Ryan Adams,” Johanna informs me. “I was showing the kidsthis ancient contraption called a record player.” She looks over at me andsmirks. “I think it was the new thing in your hey-day.”

“I also invented fire, by the way,” I joke. “Can I hear alittle something?”

“Sure. I was just about the play one of my favorites by goodold Ryan.” Johanna picks out a paper sleeve from the record pile on the table andtakes the record out.

Replacing the previous disc, she places the needle on therecord. There’s some static and then the beginning sounds of harmonica andpercussion followed by the sound of a smooth male voice.

“When they call yournameWill you walk right up?With a smile on your face?Or will you cower in fearIn your favorite sweaterWith an old love letter?”

“Cover your ears, kids,” Johanna tells them. Adam andCalliope put their palms to their ears. “There’s some curse words in the chorus.”She gives me a smile as we listen to the chorus and the infamous f-word makesits appearance. “How was work?”

“Those kids are very…ambitious.” I sigh as I sit back. “But,I should be happy that they’re eager to learn, right?”

The thing is—the kids aren’t that eager to learn.

They’re eager for the A on their essay or on their testpaper. So, they’ll absorb what they have to—to get into the right college orget their GPA higher.

None of them are eager to learn unless it is in their favor.

I don’t know if it’s me, but maybe I’ve lost my own love forteaching. It’s not like it was when I was working with the kids in the villagesthat Johanna was stationed in during her stint with Doctors Without Borders. Those were children hungry for knowledgebecause they had nothing in their bellies beside the hunger to know that therewas more than starvation and poverty out in the world.

This only makes me think of the first Adam, our son’snamesake.

“Sure.” Johanna peers at me. “You don’t seem very convincedof your own words.”

“Maybe I’m not.” I turn to Adam and then Callie. “Can I havea quick dance with your Mom?”

Calliope nods her permission. “But, don’t kiss.”

“Okay,” Adam adds. “But, we get to pick the next songafter.”

“I didn’t know I’d have to negotiate to do this.” I stand upand offer my hand to Johanna. “Want to pretend we don’t have children whilethey sit right in front of us?”

There is a chorus of boos from the kids along with a thumbs-downfrom our little girl though afterwards they fall into a fit of giggles together.

I have to say—thank God they share Johanna and my humors.

“Sure, why not?” Johanna takes my hand and stands up. “Ismell like bleach and spaghetti sauce so I’m feeling good.”

Easily, I twirl Johanna towards me and wrap an arm around herwaist as she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Bleach and spaghetti sauce?”

“Callie and Adam tried to cook dinner,” she tells me. “Oneof them spilled spaghetti sauce everywhere—and I’m the lucky Mom who had toclean it.” Johanna looks over at Adam and Callie who are whispering to oneanother on the sofa. “And, both of them won’t tell which one spilled thesauce.”

Despite the tiredness in her voice, Johanna is smiling up atme. She is incredibly patient—years of taking care of Adina, her Goddaughterand her best friend Katniss have taught her to just roll with it.

I look over at the kids who meet my eyes before burstinginto a fit of high-pitched giggles.

“What a pair of stone-cold weirdos,” I remark as I pull herclose.

“We must be doing something right,” Johanna retorts beforeshe pushes up on her toes to kiss me.

“NO KISSING!”

Johanna turns to our daughter in mock-sternness. “CalliopeAnne Abernathy—don’t make me have another kid!”

That shuts Callie up immediately.

++++++

Wednesday, December 9, 2020

Outer Sunset District,San Francisco

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Abernathy.” Adam’s teacher, Mrs.Acosta, says as she shakes my hand. She looks to Johanna and gives her a nod asafter shaking her hand. “It’s nice seeing you again, Mrs. Abernathy. Pleasehave a seat.”

Johanna and I have long given up on correcting anyone on thefact that we aren’t technically married. We’re married as much as anyone can bewithout that piece of paper. Johanna has been given all ownership of my worldlypossessions and vice-versa. Our children have both our last names on theirbirth certificates.

“I’m sure that you are both surprised that you were calledin,” Adam’s teacher says to us. “I appreciate that you took the time out tocome. It is very important that parents participate in their children’s schooling.”

I take Johanna’s hand as we each sit down in the chairs infront of the woman’s desk.

“I am definitely surprised that we were called in,” I say toher. “Adam has been doing exceptionally well from what is written on hisprogress reports.”

“My husband and I assist Adam when he does his homework and makesure he knows the material,” Johanna adds, tension in her voice.

“That isn’t what we’re concerned about,” the woman tells us.“We’re concerned about Adam’s lack of communication with his other classmates.”She looks between us. “I’ve talked to a school counselor and we’ve agreed thathe does not seem to be very participative when it comes to group activities.”

“Adam is just shy,” Johanna tells her. I can see that shehas already become agitated by his teacher’s words.

Her motherly instincts are rearing and I can already seeJohanna’s plan: to destroy the woman.

“I’m aware that he is shy, Mrs. Abernathy,” Mrs. Acostacontinues in a patronizing tone. Already a wrong move—Johanna is going toobliterate her. “But, when put in a group, he does the work on his own whenthey are all supposed to participate.”

“So, you’re telling us that because my son does the work andthe other kids take credit—he is at fault?” Johanna’s eyes narrow. “Ifanything, you should be calling all the other parents in since their kids lackthe proper knowledge on how to cut with a scissors and write their names on thesame paper as Adam!”

“This doesn’t seem like a serious issue,” I say to Mrs. Acosta,bristling at her sudden simpering gaze. “Our child has finished his work as wasasked of him.”

“But, he is not socializing,” the woman insists. “How are weto know if we are teaching him the proper things?”

“If you ask our son a question—does he answer?” Johannaretorts.

Mrs. Acosta looks flustered as she looks to see Johanna’sblazing eyes. “Why yes! But—”

Johanna crosses her arms. “And does he answer the questioncorrectly?”

“All the time,” Adam’s teacher says. “But, socialization isimportant for children. We could be looking at a social impairment—”

I put my hand up. “Are you a licensed professional inbehavioral disabilities for children?”

“No, I am not,” the woman responds. “But, I see what I seeand have talked to our counselor.”

“Well, I don’t think that you are the right person to be diagnosingour son,” I say to her. “I work in the school system and have seen childrenwith behavioral issues. Adam is not one of them.”

“Maybe your judgment is clouded by your feelings, Mr.Abernathy,” Mrs. Acosta says coolly.

“Don’t talk to me in that condescending tone, ma’am.” Istand up as does Johanna. “I am a teacher but I’m a father too. Until he hasbeen properly diagnosed—you will not tell my wife or me that our child isdeficient. We will be speaking to this so-called counselor.”

“And when we are done meeting with your school counselor,”Johanna adds in a frosty voice. “We will be speaking to the principal as wellas the school board about your behavior. We are not raising our child to winpopularity contests. We are raising him to be a good person in society andraising him to make intelligent decisions. We are going to talk to him and askhim about his school activities knowing that he will give us a truthful andthoughtful overview.”

“Thank you for seeing us,” I intoned.

We leave without another word.

++++++

“How did it go?” Katniss asks when we return home. She andPeeta agreed to babysit while we were at the meeting. Johanna’s best friendlooks at her and then at me as a frown mars her face. “That bad, huh?”

“The woman is a nutcase,” Johanna grumbles as she sits downon our couch. Katniss joins her as I sit across from them on the love seat.“She told us that she thinks that Adam has social problems—that he isdeficient.”

Katniss raises her brows in shock. “You’re kidding. Adam ispractically the ringleader of the kids. I mean he was the one who organized thekids during Adina’s wedding rehearsal!”

Johanna leans forward to put herface in her hands. “Have I done something wrong?”

Immediately, I go to her, falling tomy knees in front of her covered face. “Sweetheart, you did nothing wrong.” Itake a breath to let my own feelings simmer down. “We are going to fix this. Wewill speak to Adam and hear his side. Also, I will talk to this counselor andsee his or her reason for concern—”

“It’s all so easy for you,Haymitch!” Johanna suddenly bursts out as she looks up. “YOU’RE NOT HERE! YOUDON’T SPEND YOUR DAYS WITH THEM LIKE I DO!”

A flash of irritation rises and I’mon my feet. “DON’T YOU DARE MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I’M NOT HERE FOR OUR CHILDREN!”

“Johanna! Haymitch!” Katniss suddenly callsout. “Stop it—this isn’t about who has put in more hours. This is about Adam—”

She stops because the sound ofrunning feet and giggles is coming down our hallway. Peeta emerges around thecorner along with Adam and Callie, tiny chef hats on their heads. Callie, whowears prescription glasses only when she reads—a small sight impairment thatshe developed as a toddler caused her slight nearsightedness—rushes over toJohanna.

“Mommy! Uncle Peeta helped us makecookies! I got to read the recipe and everything!” She shoves a cookie in frontof Johanna’s stricken face. “My name is on it and everything!”

The cookie is heart shaped, coatedwith yellow frosting—her favorite color, and has our daughter’s name in themiddle. The writing is shaky and the E is backward, but ‘Callie’ is written inbright green frosting.

“That’s great, baby,” Johanna saysin a tight voice.

Adam approaches us, his sweet faceserious. But when he reaches us, his face brightens. “I made one, too!”

His is dark blue with white frosting—neatand complimentary—the complete opposite of Callie’s mish-mashed colors.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Johannatells him. Her voice cracks at the end of her sentence and she takes the kidsboth by the hand. “Why don’t you eat them in your rooms before starting yourhomework?”

Adam and Callie are observant enoughto know that they need to do what they’re told. Our son takes his sister’s freehand and leads her away. He gives me a questioning look and I assure him with asmile.

When they are upstairs, Peeta looksto us, concern in his blue eyes. “Everything okay?”

Katniss looks to her husband. “I’llexplain on the drive home.” Her eyes go to us. “These two need to talk.” Shegoes to Peeta at the archway of the room and takes his hand. “I’ll call later.”

We wait until the front door shutsto look at one another.

“What was that about?” I askJohanna. “I spend as much time with the children as you do. I know that I’m nothere to attend as many conferences or assists in as many events—but, I’m herefor what’s important—like this moment.”

“How could just let her say thesethings about our son?” Johanna asks. “Our son is shy—not anti-social. He’s five for goodness sakes and she is alreadydiagnosing him with some behavioral disability!”

“I understand that!” I argue. “But,you can’t go and start pointing fingers—we are a team, Johanna.”

“Don’t use that teacher voice withme,” she responds, her brown eyes full of anger. “You can mediate the situation—butI am out for blood. My problem is that you are being too calm about this!”

I shake my head. “I think you arebeing irrational. But, as Adam’s mother, you have a right to be.”

Johanna stiffens at my words. “And,as Adam’s father—you need to be more irrational with me! This isn’t a classroomwhere everything is worked out in discussion. THIS IS ADAM’S LIFE!”

“I KNOW THAT! I’M AWARE THAT WE NEEDTO MAKE THE RIGHT DECISIONS FOR HIM—BECAUSE ONE FALSE MOVE CAN TURN HIM INTO ACOMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON!” I rage at her. My eyes start to burn with angrytears. “Don’t think that I’m being complacent. I am just as angry!”

I turn to Johanna, weary fromyelling.

“She accused me of bringing myparental feelings into a school. Don’t be her—don’t make me decide if I’m afather or a teacher. I’m trying to be the best at both.”

“And, if you can’t be?” Johanna asksin a whisper. “Which one will you be?”

I sigh. “The best father—always.” Myeyes meet hers. “My heart wavers in my love for teaching but it will never waver when comes to you, Adam, orCalliope.”

“I just feel like we failed orsomething,” Johanna says in a broken voice. “I try so hard to be the bestmother. Yet, someone finds something wrong. And then I’ve failed and I’m nobetter than my own mother.”

I’m seething at her words. “Don’tyou ever say that you’re anything compared to that woman.”

“I’m just tired,” Johanna suddenlysays. “I’m going upstairs.”

++++++

I spend some time in our den, tryingto go over paper work for my mid-term review. However, my mind is somewhereelse.

I know exactly where it is. It’supstairs with the crying woman in our bedroom.

I swear—we are either on the brinkof killing each other or we are on the brink of aching for one another. When wewere younger, we were much calmer but the children came and we stoppedtraveling—which we loved.

I’m not complaining but—

My eyes go to the picture on mycherrywood desk. It was our first family vacation—along with Thresh, Teddy andOlivia, their daughter—in Spain. Adam had just turned two and Callie was at thebrink of one.

Johanna and I had always wanted todo the Running of the Bulls but we thought it wasn’t possible with the kids.However, Thresh and Teddy convinced us to do it—with the children strapped toour fronts: Adam on my chest and Callie on Johanna’s.

It was the dumbest thing we ever did.

Though, it turned out completelyfine.

Thresh took a great picture ofus—babies strapped to our fronts with a crowd of men surrounding us while abull charged from behind us.

I like to think of it as ourfamily’s first big adventure.

“Daddy?” I look up to see Adam atthe doorway. His dark brown eyes—Johanna’s eyes—stare solemnly at me. “Are youokay?”

I give him a smile and wave himforward. “Come in, kid.”

Adam rushes over to me and I pullhim onto my lap. “Is your Mommy still mad at me?”

“Callie is upstairs with her—tryingto give her a cookie,” Adam informs me. “I don’t think Mommy should eatit—Callie forgot to put sugar in her batch of dough.”

“We should be having dinner soon.” Ilift him onto my desk so he is sitting in front of me. “Adam, can I ask you aquestion?”

“Sure, Daddy,” he replies easily.

“Do you like school?” I ask.

Adam shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess,”he tells me. “I like my classmates but some of them are scared to do things—soI do it for them.”

I gaze up at him curiously. “Likewhat?”

“Like writing their names—orcounting stuff out,” Adam says. “So, I show them but I write it all down sothey’ll remember. Mrs. Acosta gets upset though and says that I shouldn’t do itmyself.”

“She is right,” I tell him. “Youhave to let the other kids do their work or else they’ll never learn. Who doyou hang out with at recess?”

“I like to read books during recessunder a tree,” he tells me. “Sometimes, Sheena, one of my classmates, will sitwith me and I’ll read to her.”

Adam’s teacher is not only anidiot—she is completely unobservant.

“So is she your girlfriend?” I askhim with a grin.

My son shakes his head. “No, shejust likes to listen. I tell her about how you and Mommy used to travel andwhere you went.” His eyes become wistful. “Sometimes, I wish that I was in oneof those faraway places and not stuck staring out the window.”

“Oh, I get it,” I say quietly.“You’re bored.”

Adam nods. “You and Mommy taught meeverything that I’m learning in class already.”

I grin proudly. “You’re just hungryto learn, Adam. That’s not a bad thing, either.” Standing up, I kiss hisforehead. “And, you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

He looks up at me. “I have?”

“Yes, kids can teach parents things,too,” I reply as I pick him. Adam easily wraps his arms around my neck. “Let’sgo cheer-up your Mama.”

++++++

Knocking on our door, I open it tosee Johanna force feeding herself Callie’s tasteless cookie.

“It’s good, darling,” Johanna saysas she slowly chews to disguise her grimace. “I’m going to save the rest forafter dinner.” She folds the napkin before she realizes we’re there. Her eyesslightly darken in anger seeing me but her eyes go to Adam and her lips rise ina grin. “Hey, love.”

“Mommy, me and Callie are going toset the table,” our son informs her. “Talk to Daddy and then you won’t have toeat Callie’s gross cookie.”

“It is not gross!” Callie screamsbefore chasing her brother out of the room. There is laughter as they go downthe stairs.

Johanna meets my eyes. “That islow—getting our son in on your groveling,” she tells me in a low voice.

“Is it working?” I ask as I watchher from our doorway.

She simply lies back down on our bedand turns away from me.

“Now I know where Callie gets thatmove from.” I close the door behind me and walk to our bed.

“If you’re trying to get on my goodside, it’s not working,” Johanna responds huffily.

Crawling onto my side, I spoon hercarefully. When she doesn’t move away, I put an arm around her waist to pullher close.

My mouth goes to her ear. “What doyou want me to do so you won’t be mad?” She pushes back against me and I’m overwhelmedby the scent of her. “God, you’re killing me.”

“Because, I’m mad or because I’mrubbing myself against you?” she asks and I can hear a hint of a smile on herface.

“Both,” I declare and press a kissto her neck.

Johanna chuckles against me. “Fine,”she tells me. “Sing to me.”

“Are you sure?” I ask with a frown.“Here’s a chance to get a nice piece of jewelry…”

“Sing or sleep on the couch.”

“Fine, fine…” I take a breath andput my lips to her ear:

“Comepick me upTake me outFuck me upSteal my recordsScrew all my friendsThey’re all full of shitWith a smile on your faceAnd then do it again…”

Johanna turns to me, a beaming smileon her face. “You remember that song?”

“We haven’t danced in a while,” Itell her. “So that moment won’t be leaving me—ever.”

“I’m sorry we fought.” She leansforward to kiss me and I lose myself in the taste of slightly sweet frostingmixed with mint. “You’re right—we should just talk to Adam about all of this.”

“I’ve talked to him,” I say to her.“He doesn’t have a behavior problem. He just has penchant for protecting otherpeople. Also, Adam is bored—we’ve taught everything that they’re teaching himso he just drifts off, I think.” I kiss her forehead. “I think I might have asolution—and I think that it will get us out of our ruts.”

“Ruts?” Johanna repeats.

“Don’t tell me that you’re happybeing in a practice,” I say to her. “And, I’m not exactly changing lives bygiving overzealous students nervous breakdowns.”

“So, what are you suggesting?” sheasks as she wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her body to mine.

“Kiss me and I’ll tell you.” Johannaraises a brow at me. “Well, kiss me before the kids notice that I’ve alreadyset the table and aren’t distracted by the macaroni and cheese that I made forthem.”

She rolls her eyes, her lips justabout brushing mine. “Fine.”

++++++

Sunday, February 14, 2021

Tete,Mozambique, Africa

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I begin. “Sorry,we took so long. Johanna and I—we’ve been busy, but we always promised thatwe’d come back.”

Johanna stands next to me, a softsmile on her face. “We checked on your mother. She’s doing well and hasactually remarried—but she tells us that she always comes to see you on yourbirthday.”

“We also wanted to introduce you toour children,” I say as my voice suddenly begins to waver. “We tell them aboutyou all the time—how we loved you and how we always thought of you as ours.”

Adam comes forward shyly, his handclutching a small bundle as he looks at the tall white cross.

“This is your namesake, Adam,”Johanna says and she quickly wipes her eyes. “He loves to read like you. Infact, besides his own lessons, he’s been helping a lot of the other kids inyour village learn how to write the alphabet.”

I give our son a smile. “Goon—you’ve been working hard on your present.”

Adam nods resolutely before kneelingin front of the cross. “Hi Adam. It’s me—the other Adam.” He puts down thebundled piece of papers. “I made you a picture book—Daddy says that you likeDr. Seuss—he’s my favorite, too. So, I put in a lot of rhymes. I hope you likeit.”

Stepping back, Callie comes forwardunafraid. “Hi Adam—I’m Calliope but everyone calls me Callie!” She places apaper flower chain in front of the cross. “Yellow is my favorite color so Ithought that you’d like it too. It means hope—that’s what Auntie Katniss toldme.”

“We never forgot you, son,” I say ina soft voice. “I like to think that you’ve been looking out for us. That youpicked Adam and Calliope for us—and we love them like crazy just like we loveyou.”

After our tears have dried, Johannaand I take our children’s hands to make our way back to our hut. It is a littlebigger than our old one but a lot more comfortable. The kids are getting usedto the heat though Callie sometimes wants ice cream which is not so availablehere.

It was a big surprise to our friendsthat we decided to take the kids out of school and opted to home school them.Adam has already tested into at a second grade level and Callie is already wellinto Kindergarten. Knowing that with my help, they were able to exceedexpectations assures me that we were going in the right direction.

So, when I quit my job at Lowell—Ihad no regrets. I am now teaching kids that want to learn.

Five-days-a-week, children come toour hut and they learn along with Adam and Callie. My children have no issuesmaking friends. Adam seems happier and is even teaching the kids how to playsoftball. Callie makes up little cheers and has even taught some of the littlegirls who are her age how to make pom-poms so they can cheer at the games.

Johanna left her practice and is nowback to doing what she loves. It’s backbreaking work and sometimes she returnshome upset from a frustrating patient. However, me and the children are alwaysthere waiting for her with a hug or a kiss or even an off-key serenade.

We brought the record player withus.

It’s become very popular andsometimes, when I’m dancing with Johanna, I’ll catch the kids along with theirfriends looking through the cut-out window.

We don’t mind.

Did we make the right decision forour children? Sometimes, we do question ourselves.

But then we see Adam flourishing—gobblingdown books and hungry to learn. Or, Callie, whose happy-go-lucky spirit hasspread to all the children—they treat her like their little sister and sheadores them.

And we know that we made the rightchoice—we have brought the best out of Adam and Callie. It assures us that they’regoing to make a difference.

After all, they’re not aconventional pair of kids.

And, we’re not a conventionalfamily.

That’s just fine with us.