I am down in my workshop standing amongst tools that date back to my great-grandfather. Most of the tools are for show — I don't know anyone who has a loom from 1938 that needs fixing. But I like being around the tangible items of the people whose DNA I'm carrying
forward in time because it gives me a sense of connection, much like Superman's Fortress of Solitude.
That is not a very original comparison, and I've no doubt that most men with a workshop and a rudimentary knowledge of comic books have at some time thought the same thing. It's also not an accurate analogy. If anything, my son has more in common with Superman
than I do. For one, he has a Superman costume, which I do not. More importantly, he and Superman both have stepfathers, and in this scenario, I am Pa Kent, the genteel farmer who, along with his wife Martha, adopts the infant from Krypton.
I have retreated to the basement because my stepson, Gavyn, is upstairs concluding the first visit that he has had with his biological father in two years. Gavyn is nearly seven; I've been with his mother since Gavyn was three, and I left him and his father
alone to say their goodbyes because it seemed like the polite thing to do. Also, I did not wish to hear him call his biological father "dad."
Prior to his father's visit, I'd never brought the matter up with him regarding how I should be addressed, although it would be disingenuous to suggest that it didn't bother me a little that he called me "Kevin." I don't even have a fatherly sounding name,
like Fred or Burt. I have a name that belongs to a kid idling along the sidelines at a kickball game.
My apartment should have raised red flags for anyone in charge of a child.
Of course, it wasn't always like this. There was a time when I delighted in being called by my first name by Gavyn. That was when I was resisting becoming a father. I never had any desire for children, nor did I ever desire to be married. Neither of these
responsibilities figured into my life plan, which up until the age of thirty-two had been to do as much as possible while working as little as possible. An achievable dream for a single man with seven cats, but one day I realized I was saying things to my
cats like, "Who's a sexy kitty? Mitzy's a sexy kitty, isn't she? Yes you are, yes you are." I like to think I have a good handle on when I'm approaching the edge, and I quickly assessed that I needed a girlfriend to take the edge off.
Prior to meeting Patrice, I had only dated one other woman who'd had a child. That girlfriend had been very resistant to bringing me around her daughter. She made it clear she wasn't looking for a husband or a father for her child. I met her daughter on
only two occasions, and those times occurred simply because a babysitter had not been available. In many ways, I believe that relationship fizzled out because I was always kept at a certain emotional distance. If a woman was wary of having me around her child,
what did that say about me?
Patrice was not at all hesitant to have me hang out with Gavyn. In retrospect, I wonder if she wasn't a bit too eager to bring him around. After all, while my apartment seemed perfectly fine to me, it should have raised a series of red flags for any rational
person in charge of the well-being of a child. I have mentioned the seven cats. I should also point out the two-foot-tall bong, walls decorated with posters (which would be somewhat fine if framed, but I was past thirty and still using thumbtacks and tape),
the erotic refrigerator poetry, the legions of empty beer bottles in my recycling bin, and the loaded firearm in my kitchen cabinet. I do not know why these things did not deter Patrice. She is a former Miss Teen South Carolina. She has retained her youthful
good looks. She was not desperate. It remains a bit of a mystery.
Naturally, before she ever brought Gavyn to meet me, I tidied up my apartment to make it suitable for a child to visit. And also, I will admit it: I played the kid angle. I went to my folks' house and got some of my old toys and brought them down to my apartment.
I went out of my way to have Gavyn like me, and also to convey to his mother that in spite of my bohemian trappings, I was a responsible adult at my core.
