BEDTIME

"I'm going to lay in bed with Adrian and then I'm going to read to Marcos. I've got some bad news for you." "What? What happened?" Fabiola lives on the edge, waiting for the call that tragedy has struck. "I took my super pills." "Why did you do that?" "I want to fuck you tonight. I didn't fuck you this morning." "It wasn't my fault. You were hungover and didn't wake up." "I'm not saying that it was your fault. I want to fuck you tonight. I haven't fucked you in days. You know how much I love fucking you." She looks at me with a blank stare. Having sex with me is no different than preparing breakfast for the children as she rushes to ready herself for another day of work. I bore her. She would rediscover her ardor with someone new. I'm part of the upkeep. Adrian is waiting in his bed. I kiss him on his damp head. "Who loves you, big guy?" "Daddy-O." As much as I have made a difference in his world when I entered his life at three, he has been there as much for me." "Who do you think will win?" he asks. "Chelsey or Manchester?" "I don't know. What do you think?" "Manchester. Rooney and Ronaldo are the best." "When is the game?" "Saturday." "What time?" "At eight." "I won't be doing too much drinking Friday night." "Drinking isn't good for you, Daddy-O." "It's my medicine, papi. The doctors say that it is good for the heart. I should have a very strong heart. What time is our game?" "We play at two. Do you think we're going to win any games this season?" "Maybe, although I wouldn't be surprised if we don't. You're improving, right?" "Yeah." "Then don't worry about anything else. I put you in this older league so you would get used to playing against bigger and better kids. This fall I'm placing you on a select team. You need a coach who can teach you more technique and you need to be with players in a more competitive situation if you're going to improve. You want to be a good soccer player, don't you?" "Of course, Daddy-O. Can you get me a Rooney jersey?" "When I get paid, we'll go downtown and look for one. Is he your favorite player?" "He's number one." "I thought Ronaldo was number one?" "He scores more goals, but Rooney is a team player. You've said that it's more important to be a team player than a star, yes or no, Daddy-O?" "You're absolutely right, Adrian. And what has Daddy-O told you about winning and losing?" "Winning and losing is for small minds." "Good. You need to play more like Rooney. If you were more aggressive, your game would improve." "What does 'aggressive' mean, Daddy-O?" "You have to attack the other player more. You can't allow him to dribble past you. You can't play afraid." "When am I playing tennis again?" "How long has it been since the summer program ended?" "Four weeks." "This Friday I'll go to the club and sign you up for lessons twice a week. You liked the lessons during the spring, right?" "They were fun." "I want you to play both soccer and tennis well. Are you happy with those sports?" "Yes, but I like football, basketball and baseball too. When are we golfing again?" "We'll go to the range tomorrow, but we can't play every sport. You're catching the football well and I like the way you're snagging the ball with your mitt." "Snagging?" "Catching. You are laying up the ball properly in basketball and you have a good shot for your age, but we're waiting until junior high for these sports because you can't play everything now. You really want to play football?" "Football is fun." "You have good hands, papi, and you would make an excellent end, but football is rough and you can get hurt." "But you tell me getting hurt is a part of sports and you want me tougher for soccer." "If you want to play football, that's fine, but for now we're going to concentrate on soccer and tennis. We'll practice the other sports in the backyard." "But tomorrow we're golfing, right?" "We'll hit a bucket of balls at the driving range. You need to go to sleep. I have to read to your brother or he won't fall asleep. I love you, big guy." "I love you, Daddy-O." He nestles himself in my arm and I scratch the top of his head. I listen to Adrian breathe and coordinate my inhalations and exhalations with his breath. The clock ticks. Cars speed in the distance. Two minutes pass and Adrian is sleeping soundly. I extricate myself and pull the covers up to his neck. An air-conditioned house in the suburbs in the summer is colder than a house in the barrio in the winter. I kiss him on the forehead and tip-toe out the room.