#the distant future

“What are your ‘a’ sounds?” Sherri asked.  “Ah, ah...” Chris said.  “And the other one?”  “Ay...” “Did you try the other sound?”  Chris looked back down at the worksheet. “B-ay-kuh...bake...” Sherri looked back at the pan. “Good job. Start it from the beginning.” “The little boy likes to bake...” “Vroooooooooom...” “...he licks...likes...” “Sid?” Sherri called. “Yes?” “Can you play quietly so Chris can concentrate?” “Yes, Mommy. Sorry.” “It’s alright. Thank you.” Sid turned the vocal engine off and drove the car in silence. Suddenly, there was a rumble at the front door. The lock turned and the kids hopped up from the table and ran through the living room. 

“Daddy!” they shouted.

Clyde opened the door and scooped both of the little ones up in his arms. “Arrrgh!” he growled, holding them up.  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked. He planted kisses on both of their foreheads and put them back down.  “Ms. Daniels gave us homework today!” Chris exclaimed. “Oh yeah?” “Long sentences!”  “Well, alright, my lil’ Einstein,” Clyde said.  The trio made their way into the dining room, but the kids sat back at the table. Clyde walked straight for the kitchen and Sherri gave him her cheek to kiss. “Mmm...” he hummed. “Those lips taste as good?” Sherri smirked and faced Clyde so he could give her a peck on the lips. Then another. And another. “Eww!!!” the children said. “Eww?!” Clyde mocked them. “What y’all mean eww?” Sherri and the kids laughed. Then, Clyde rested his hands on Sherri’s protruding belly. He gave it a rub. “Now what you got to say about it, Littlest One?” “It said, please don’t keep mommy up tonight...” Sherri mumbled.  “Well, I can’t make no promises on that...” Clyde whispered in her ear, before giving the lobe a nibble.  “Leave my kitchen, Clyde,” Sherri said giggling. Clyde gave her butt a tap and walked into the dining room. “What’s this homework about?” he asked, sitting beside Chris.  “Different stuff,” the oldest responded. Clyde adjusted his glasses by the hinge and looked over the homework--a sheet full of short sentences. 

“You or Mommy are supposed to draw lines under the stuff I said wrong,” Chris added. “Is that so?” Clyde read the instructions and realized that either he or Sherri had to underline any words Chris had gotten wrong, or didn’t self-correct. So far, only the word “fluffy” had a line under it. Clyde smiled at the sight. “Underline bake, Baby.” Sherri said. Clyde searched the table and noticed the red ink pen resting against the table’s centerpiece. He underlined “bake”.  “Hey, Babygirl...?” Clyde called over his shoulder. “Mm-hmm?” Sherri responded. “A man came into the restaurant this afternoon. He started a non-profit education center. Supposed to help kids with all kinds of needs. I uh...I got his card for you.” Sherri froze for a second, then kept cooking. “For what?” “He’s lookin’ for people to join his team. It’s very new. He wants people from different backgrounds helpin’ him out...”  Sherri didn’t say anything. She turned off the stove and reached into the cupboard for plates. “Okay.” _____________________ Later “What’s this you were telling me about? About this man?” Sherri asked, walking into the bedroom. 

Clyde was already in bed with a book. Sherri grabbed a bottle of cocoa butter lotion from her dresser and sat on the bed.  “He started a non-profit company for kids with special needs. Behavioral, academic. Kids with problems at home, anything. He said he wanted to hire a few reading tutors...” Sherri began to rub the lotion on her belly. The circular motions soothing her emotionally, as well as physically. “He said you didn’t need a formal education. It wouldn’t pay much now, but it would be a great experience.” Sherri let out a wry laugh. “So, you told a stranger in a restaurant that your dropout wife was looking for a low-paying job?” Clyde stared at the back of Sherri’s head with furrowed brows. “No, I said I would tell my wife about it, and see if she’s interested.” Sherri closed the lotion’s cap and put it back on her dresser. “Well, thank you for thinking of me, Baby. But I’m good...”  She yanked back her covers and climbed into the bed.  “But are you, though, Baby?” Clyde asked. Sherri was just about to turn on her side before she glared back at him.  “What do you mean?” she asked. “It ain’t no secret that you regret not settin’ out to be in education, Babygirl. I thought this would be a good way to get you back on track. But I guess I was wrong,” Clyde said. Sherri turned on her side and laid down. “Yeah, you were. I don’t need you job huntin’ for me.” Clyde looked down at his book. He tried to keep reading, but Sherri’s response was eating away at him. He took in a deep breath. “So, you just wanna be a receptionist for the rest of your life, Sherri?” He didn’t have to see her face to know what it looked like. Slowly, Sherri turned on her back and sat completely up.  “What is this about, Clyde? Are you ashamed of me all of a sudden?” she asked. Clyde huffed, then closed his book.  “No...” he answered. “But I know when you’re feeling sad, Baby. And I know you’ve been real sad these last few months.” “First of all, don’t tell me when I’m sad. I’m not sad. I’m not depressed or any of that. And even if I was, that doesn’t have shit to do with my job...”

“Sherri...” Clyde said patiently. “You can deny it all you want to. But you know and I know that you ain’t happy where you are.” “I am happy!” Sherri snapped. “What are you talking about?!” “You like your job, Sherri. But you ain’t happy,” Clyde continued on. “You regret not finishin’ school, Baby. It’s all over your face. You think you’re hidin’ it from me, but you’re not. You never have. And denyin’ it hasn’t made it better.” Sherri scoffed. “Please, Clyde. You don’t know what I’m hidin’ and what I’m not. Whatever the case may be, I’m halfway through my life, now. I’m damn near 40 years old, I’ve got two kids--almost got three. I’ve got to run around after three kids--” “Stop usin’ our kids as a crutch, Sherri.” Sherri’s eyebrows lifted. She was speechless. Clyde wasn’t as mild and meek as people assumed he was, but he’d never drilled into anyone like this before. Especially Sherri. He had the patience of a saint, and Sherri could tell that the patience had suddenly started wearing thin. But so was hers. “You my therapist now, Clyde?” Clyde drew in a deep breath. “No, I’m not. But I am your husband. And I know you better than I know the back of my own hand.”

“And look here. I don’t appreciate you sittin’ up here talkin’ like you the only one takin’ care of our kids...” “That’s not what I said. And it’s not what I meant, either,” Sherri responded.

“Whatever you meant, there ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you from goin’ back to school, but you. I tell you about a potential job in your field, and you up in here actin’ like I stole somethin’ from you,” Clyde fussed. “I just don’t understand where this is comin’ from. Our life is just fine right now. Since when did you start feelin’ like it wasn’t good enough? Suddenly it’s so bad that you need to go job scoutin’ for me?” “Ain’t nobody say all that, Sherri. Yes, our life is just fine. It’s real nice. But you ain’t no “just fine” kinda girl. You ain’t never been,” Clyde said. 

“Everything about you is excellent, but when it comes to stuff like this--your dream, you start actin’ real cowardly.” 

Sherri stared at Clyde and huffed.  “Look. Whatever the case, Clyde. I don’t need you bein’ my reference. I don’t need you recommendin’ jobs for me. You worry about what you’ve got goin’ on, and I’ll take care of what I’ve got goin’ on.” Clyde nodded. “Alright.” He put his book on the nightstand and took off his bionic arm. He put the arm on his dresser, climbed back in bed, and turned off the lamp on his nightstand. Then, he slid down and pulled the covers over him.

“You ain’t got to worry about me sayin’ another thing,” he added. “Gon’ and pass that impostor’s syndrome down to our baby.” Sherri didn’t give his statement a chance to marinate in the air. 

“I think you should sleep on the couch,” she said without hesitation, or a even a thought. And Clyde didn’t argue. He climbed out of the bed, grabbed his pillows, and walked out of the room with them. He dug through the linen closet for a blanket, and curled into a ball on the little chaise of their sectional.  ____________________ The Next Day As she did every weekday morning, Sherri got up at 4:30AM. The scent of oatmeal soap still strong from last night’s shower, she gave herself a quick wipe down at the sink, then got Sid up. She helped Sid take care of their personal needs, and got them dressed. Per usual, mother and future middle child got a quick bite and made their way to the Busy Bees Daycare. Every week day, Sherri oversaw the front desk of the daycare and helped to keep an eye on all of the children, including her own.  Every week day--even on Mondays when he didn’t work--Clyde woke up and got Chris and himself ready. They too, sat at the table for a quick bite--cereal, usually. Then, Clyde would walk Chris to school. Today was a work day, so he hung out at home for about for about 45 minutes before making the seamless fifteen (or twenty, depending on his mood) minute drive to Strafford’s Kitchen. Today was definitely a “twenty minute drive to work” kind of day. Sherri always got off at 2 o’clock. Her and Sid would head home and hang out until it was time to pick Chris up. They’d walk to the school, chat with Chris’ teacher, and make their way back home to start homework and dinner. When Clyde was off, he would start dinner while Sherri and Sid walked to get the eldest Logan child.  Sherri had spent her day snatching every chance at mental solitude she could find. Clyde didn’t know what he was talking about. She was happy at Busy Bees. Had been for seven years. And more importantly, it was too late for her to consider going back to school. Especially with the cost of tuition nowadays.

“What’s on your mind, Sherri Pie?” Mrs. Barbara asked. She’d snatched Sherri out of a daze. “Hmm?” Sherri asked. “Everything alright?”  Sherri forced a smile and nodded. “Yes, everything is fine.”  Mrs. Barbara raised an eyebrow at her and Sherri laughed. “Me and the husband had a little spat, that’s all.” “Hmm,” Mrs. Barbara said with a nod. “And you know what Mrs. Barbara?” Sherri asked. “What?” she responded. She peeped into the commons space to get a look at the children, then back at Sherri.  “I just might owe that man an apology.” Mrs. Barbara laughed. “Well, wives can be wrong sometimes, believe it or not. What was the argument about? If you don’t mind me asking...” Sherri shook her head and rolled her eyes--at herself, of course. “He started talking to me about going back to school, and things like that...and I got really defensive, I think.” “You think?” Sherri sighed again. “I did.” “Do you want to go back to school?” Mrs. Barbara asked. “It would be nice, but it would just be too much right now. With Sid and Chris, and this one...” “Well, I’m gonna stop you right there, Sherri,” Mrs. Barbara said. “It would be nice sounds like you want to go...” “...yeah, well...” “You’ve got us. You’ve got your neighbors. And from what I know of Clyde, that man would put the world on his shoulders for you if he could. You’ve got more support than a lot of people in this world...” Sherri chuckled to herself. “Clyde said something along those lines.” “Well...” Mrs. Barbara said, peeping into the commons space again. “If Clyde and I mirror each other’s thoughts, then he must be right.” Mrs. Barbara winked and walked back into the commons area. Sherri just smiled to herself.  ____________________ Sherri and Sid returned home at about 2:30. “Can I watch TV, Mommy?” Sid asked. “Sure, baby,” Sherri said. She put her purse on the coffee table, turned on the television and flipped straight to PBS. Then, she made her way to the kitchen to hang her keys on the HOME hook. A familiar greeting card was sitting on the counter. On the front, it said “For You, Just Because. Blood rushed to Sherri’s cheeks, and she opened the card.

“What are you starin’ at?” she asked. Clyde smiled, walked to her, and got down on his knees in front of her. He rubbed her belly and planted kisses all over it. Sherri ran her fingers through his hair--some of the raven strands turning gray at the top of his head. Clyde rested his hands on her hips and stared up at her.  “I love you.” “I love you more,” Sherri said, pushing some of his hair back over his left ear. Then, he rested his head on her belly. “I'm sorry for being pushy last night.” Sherri smiled and took a soft breath. “I’m sorry for getting defensive.” He gave her belly another kiss, then lifted himself up to sit beside her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his chest.  “I didn’t mean to downplay what you do, Baby. But I had to say somethin’. I should’ve said somethin’ a long time ago.” Sherri drew in a deep breath, scared of where the conversation was going. Again. Clyde continued. “...now, I ain’t a therapist. But I am a bartender, so technically I am a therapist.” Sherri chuckled and sat up. Then, she looked down at her feet. “I just think it’s too late for me, Clyde, that’s all.” She looked up at him again. Clyde nodded and hummed. “Now, if I said somethin’ like that about myself, would you let me say it?” Sherri shot a look at him, then smirked. “No. I suppose not.” “It’s not too late...” he said. “Somewhere in this city there’s a child who’s not gonna give a damn about no readin’, until he or she meets you. Until Mrs. Logan sparks somethin’ in ‘em.”  “Education has changed so much, Clyde,” Sherri said.  He nodded again. “Mm-hmm. Education has changed. Presidents have changed. You’ve changed, I’ve changed. Our family has changed, our neighborhood has changed. Things change. Every time I turn around they’re comin’ up with new ways to make a damn margarita.” Sherri giggled. 

“What if somebody looks at my resume and they see my age and see how long it took me to get a degree? They’re not gonna wanna hire me. They’re gonna want somebody young...”

““Sherri, you are 39 years old, not 93. Hush with that “old” talk, now...” Sherri rolled her eyes and let her shoulders slump.  “Look, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, Babygirl,” Clyde continued. “But I know when my wife is sad, and I know when somethin’ is weighin’ heavy on her.” Sherri sighed. 

“Mama said the same thing to me a couple of weeks ago,” she said. She mocked Mrs. Simmons. “I know when somethin’s wrong with my children.” “Well, you know Mamas always know,” Clyde said. He kissed Sherri on the forehead and interlocked his metal fingers with hers.  “I wanna tell you somethin’ I ain’t never told nobody...” Sherri looked up into Clyde’s eyes.  “When I got out the Army. You know, after this,” he said, moving the intuitive fingers. “I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do with my life. I ain’t have no real goal when I came home. I ain’t even have one before I went in, really.” Sherri tilted her head, listening intently to what Clyde was saying.

“Bartendin’ wasn’t my dream--havin’ a family was my dream. Bein’ a husband, havin’ a wife, havin’ kids. Havin’ a home. All that stuff. Not to be a doctor or a lawyer, or a basketball player or somethin’ like that. But to be a husband and a father. That truly was what I wanted out of this life.” Sherri rested her head on Clyde’s shoulder. She gave his hand a little squeeze. “...you gave me my dream, Babygirl. And you told me when we was datin’ that your dream was to be a school librarian. You’ve barely talked about it since, but it ain’t ever left you. ‘Tween us needin’ three bookshelves in the house, and the way you help Chris wit’ homework...that dream ain’t never left you...” Tears rolled down Sherri’s face.  “...I could leave this Earth right now havin’ seen my dream come true tenfold. I don’t want you to leave this Earth not feelin’ the same. I know you love me and I know you love our kids. But...” Clyde searched for the right words.

“I know that there’s a part of you that hasn’t be satisfied. And it’s eatin’ you up, Babygirl.”