On the following day, Trevor texted me saying his plane would soon land, and he was excited to see his kids. I did not reply. Instead, I picked up my chalk and drew up an imaginary menu named “Trevor’s All Inclusive Parent Resort,” offering services such as “Sunrise Bottle Service”, “Diaper Duty” and “Midnight Entertainment” where late check out is unavailable. My mom laughed until tears ran down her cheeks while Frank just sat in the rocking chair with the baby in his arms.
At 4:17, Trevor entered the place with his body filled with the scent of sunscreen and announced with joy that he had returned. At the sight of his estranged dad sitting in the living room with one of his twins in his arms, his bag fell on the ground with a loud bang.
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As soon as I tried to get up from the couch, a sharp pain shot through my stomach. Frank intervened and held my hand until I sat down properly. Trevor stared, watching another man perform the tasks he was supposed to be doing, but before he could react, Frank shut him down. Frank told Trevor that even if the babies wouldn’t remember the five days he spent away, he would surely remember them. I pointed upstairs and told him that his bags were already packed.
