What about the kids?

I run the tip of my finger across my middle ones nail bed, listening to the subtle strum from each grooves line.

As a nervous tick I place the flat end of my nail against my tiny lips and massage them, while I smell the faint scent of post it glue. It reminds me of Scotch tape and a brand new sharpie.

The feeling is indescribable which only nervous addicts can do.

I inhale what feels like an eternity, letting smoke take over my lungs. I slowly exhale, dragon like. It wiggles out of my lips, entranced by the ambient music and clinking from the ice shifting in my whisky.

The door bell rings, so I take one more drag, almost chocking down the last of my drink until I’m at the door slightly buzzed or dizzy from standing so quickly.

In front of me is Billy who waves to his mother so she has nothing to fear.

He enters and I close the door behind him, scanning the neighborhood before disappearing inside.

Billy likes to do regular things any normal nine year old would. Load up on sugar and play video games.

This time I planned ahead by ordering pizzas and buying a variety of sweets.

I offer him a coke, while I stick to beer. He asks me about it, so I let him have a taste. He instantaneously spits it out, then goes back for more after I tell him it’s a grown ups drink.

It takes him a few sips until he starts to like it but I get some pizza in him before he is completely inebriated.

Flash Gordon is on and we watch it from start to finish, no interruptions, only hoots and hollers by Billy at the violence.

Part of me moves, watching this.

When it’s over I turn on the original Mario Brothers on Nintendo and watch Billy’s fingers stab at the red buttons.

He gets to level two before dying and throws the remote at the television.

He apologizes and waits for a punishment but there is no violence allowed in my house, only love.

I turn the game off and switch our attention to Twister. I explain the rules and jump into the game. Billy’s small limbs manages to stretch across the board, while mine barely shift but the excitement from the games positions revitalize my energy and we become two entangled chess pieces.

I crumble with Billy on top of me, which breaks into a tickle fight. He’s small so I have the advantage, but I don’t force myself on him. I lightly press my lips on his stomach and blow, creating a high pitch squealing. My mustache tickles his skin, erupting into more laughter.

This time I get a taste of his neck by blowing hard on it. He doesn’t seem to notice.

I spread these moments all over, until there’s nowhere else to go but down.

He knows where this is headed.

Guilt washes over his face as he lies back on the vinyl Twister mat, staring at me while escaping his body.

His mind is somewhere else while I turn off the lights and scoop him into my arms.