Rafael Yglesias - Only Children

But it made no sense. What were they going to do — plunk the boys in front of the television, turn on a tape of He-Man, and screw in the bedroom?

Eric was grateful that Luke had managed to take a crap a few hours ago. God, what a mess. First, huge, impossibly long turds oozed out, in a slow agony, accompanied by screaming and tears, and then diarrhea followed. Luke had been stopped up for a week this time. Something had to be done. After it was over, Eric turned on the television to distract Luke and sneaked off to the bedroom to call Nina at work. Nina was irritated by the interruption. “I’ll take him to another doctor. I have to go.” And she hung up without a good-bye.

Yeah, I’d be happy to sleep with Diane. Why not? I’m just a servant for Nina, taking care of her kid, her money, her family’s affection, you name it. I make sure he gets enough sleep, I make sure Luke knows he’s loved — what if I behaved like Diane’s husband? Then we’d have an aggressive brat like Byron.

Nevertheless, Eric wished Luke had some of Byron’s public self-assurance. He didn’t think Byron was really more self-confident— he knew what Byron was, remembered Byron’s type from his own childhood. Byron was a shrimp who needed to be in charge or his ego would crumble. Yeah, but those shrimps always ended up dominating everyone — like Joe. They were completely concentrated on besting everyone — so they did.

No more. Eric wouldn’t allow it this time. Joe was pushing Eric at work, taking back control of the accounts merely because, for the past quarter, Eric’s stocks were down and Joe’s were up. He thinks he can just grab it back, take it out of my hands, and I won’t say anything. Well, he’s wrong. I’ll walk. I’ll walk with the fifteen million I control.

But you’re losing it, you can’t keep your grip, you may need Joe.

The whispers of doubt were terrible, sickening.

I’ll go mad if I don’t shake it. Make a decision! Leave, that’s what I have to do. Go out on my own. Otherwise Joe will always eat away at my confidence. I would have sold earlier if it weren’t for Joe — not Joe, Sammy, standing there beneath me, as I’m scared shitless on the ledge, saying, Jump! Jump!

“Do you mind Nina leaving you alone with Luke so much?” Diane asked.

“No. Most of the time, the only person I really have fun with is Luke.” Except for the constipation. If only that would go away— maybe I should ask her advice.

“Really?” She smiled with approval. “I wish Peter felt like that. I think he would if he spent more time with Byron.”

“You must enjoy it.”

“Yeah?” She laughed sarcastically.

“Well, you gave up your job to be with him.”

“No. I gave up my work to have fun. To slow down. I just blame it on Byron.”

“Smell the roses?”

“That’s right.” Diane lowered her head. “Only I don’t have anyone to smell with me.” She looked up, right into Eric’s eyes, asking the question.

He held her look.

She moved to the couch, sitting next to him, always keeping her eyes on his, bold, like Byron, demanding: I’m here, I’m here. Eric’s thoughts sped by, the ticker going wild, overloaded by volume: what do I owe Nina, do I love her, the boys are in the next room, when could I see Diane anyway, every second of my life is accounted for, I’d figure out something, but it’s crazy, right, and her tits are great, we could live together, the boys would always have playmates, but it would be bad for Luke, why am I worrying about that, this is just a lay, maybe she’s kidding—

Diane’s eyes went down, purposefully, to Eric’s lips, kissing them with her glance.

Oh, for Christ’s sakes, for once in your life, make a decision without tiptoeing through fields of bullshit—

He kissed her. Her mouth was soft. He hadn’t expected that. With her black hair and sharp chin, her dark, bold eyes and lean, angled body, he had anticipated meeting something hard and solid, charged with energy. But she was soft, melting at his contact, absorbing him. He could taste her lipstick, smell her perfume. She was fresh-baked, not yesterday’s roll; he wanted more.

“No!” Byron shouted.

Eric pushed Diane away, his body shocked, jumping back. He lost his balance, his ass sliding off the edge of the couch, and fell like a bulky package, thudding onto the rug. He looked to see—

But there was nothing in the doorway.

“No!” Byron shouted. The voice came from the other room. The boys were still safely ignorant. Eric looked up at Diane, who seemed dazed. “They’re playing,” she said.

She should be laughing. She must be pretty far gone if she’s not laughing. “This is crazy,” Eric said.

“They’re allowed to be crazy,” she answered “Why can’t we?”

“ ’Cause we’re the parents,” Eric said, and he laughed.

But the laugh didn’t escape his throat, and he saw himself, big and clumsy and old, bussing a married woman on her couch, and he coughed, needing to laugh, and then he did laugh, again and again, until there were tears in his eyes while he laughed, and he didn’t stop laughing until the boys ran in to ask what was so funny.

FOR WEEKS diane had used eric to stimulate her bath orgies. Night after night Eric lifted her to the ceiling and consumed her from the bottom up, swallowing her below and raising her above, until she flew up to the yellow globe, the bowl of popcorn quavering big, then little, the orange bowl squeezed to red, then white. Eric took her in the hallway with Peter just in the other room, and she had to press her lips tight to hold the freedom inside, gulping back her pleasure, Eric moving over her, restless, loving, frantic, ravenous—

Diane hadn’t expected her fantasy to become real.

Night after night she loved Eric’s image, until she found herself inviting him over on impulse, as if reality had become soft and she could, at will, puncture it with her dreams. She used the boys as a beard, picked a night when she knew Nina and Peter would be elsewhere, dressed up for Eric, bought wine and cheese and flowers, picked out music, restraightened the living room, as if it were a date, a special night, assuming all the while: of course, I won’t do anything.

And then she made him kiss her. She couldn’t stop herself, didn’t even think about the risk that he might not, and thus expose her desire to ridicule.

Only when Eric fell off the couch, frightened by the mere sound of children — she hadn’t heard the noise that startled him, at least not consciously, although she knew why he broke off contact — only when Eric fell off the couch and was so scared that he became hysterical, only then did Diane pause and think.

When the boys discovered Eric on the rug, they were delighted by his collapsed position. Luke jumped all over Eric with a familiar joy, shouting references to games they must play every night, Byron stood and watched for a moment, amazed by the giant daddy toddler. Peter never lowered himself. Eric played like a kid, diminished in both size and dignity, a huge child shouting back phrases from He-Man, pretending right along with his son, falling over when a little fist bounced harmlessly off his massive chest — she had one fantasy with Eric’s chest hairless, another in which she pressed her lips against a soft mossy bed — and he growled fiercely when he counterattacked. Byron hung back, not shy, but baffled, until Eric suddenly grabbed him also—

Byron’s face spread open into a wide smile and he tried to play along. However, Byron’s punches were in earnest. Diane knew she should scold Byron, but she was fascinated into silence. She watched Eric take the blows politely at first, his face showing confusion, and waited to see how he would deal with it.