Four Years Later
Vanessa's my fourth wife. Is she my last?
Each marriage has ended after two years. I call it the two-year curse.
Divorce is never easy.
I tend to deal with the emotional mess by throwing money at the problem. I offered Uma child support even though her daughter wasn't my own.
Light footsteps become louder.
I'm in my bedroom, getting dressed for a happy event.
I'm alone.
The light shines brightly in the bedroom as I button the third button of my crisp white business shirt. I look towards the door and force a smile.
Junior stands in the doorway, looking at the messy California King bed before he looks to his left.
That's where I am. I stand in front of the full-length mirror and glance at myself again. The first two buttons of my shirt are unbuttoned.
Maybe I should wear a tie. Yeah, it is a formal event--perhaps--
"Da Da," Junior says, running towards me.
I scoop him into my arms.
Junior's grown so much.