Page 3 of Learning at 40

“The lady,” Oliver adds.

“What lady?” I lower my hands to my sides, and sweat beads on my forehead.

“The one next door,” Trevor admits.

“River?” Anna questions, giving a name to the witness of my son’s exhibitionist peeing.

“Who?” I ask, turning to Anna.

“The lady next door. The new neighbor. Remember, she moved in last summer.” Anna turns her attention to the boys. “Gold hair. Friendly smile. Nice laugh.”

Gold hair? New neighbor? Could it be who I think it is?

Trevor shrugs. Oliver says, “She didn’t laugh at me.” His face pouts like he’s offended that she might have, or maybe he’s upset she didn’t offer him the sound.

“Don’t worry, little man. She’s probably seen a little pecker before,” Mason says, and I roll my eyes. He has no idea what he’s just started.

“His pecker isn’t little,” Trevor defends, as if they have big dicks at seven.

“We aren’t discussing our body parts,” I remind them after having this discussion in the car ride from the east side of the state to the west. Three hours plus bathroom breaks included at least four discussions on how we are not talking about body parts with others. Dicks. Buttholes. Fingers in our nose.

“Wow, the cojones on that kid,” Mason teases.

I turn to Mason as Oliver asks, “What are cojones?”

“Nothing,” I say through gritted teeth, catching Mason holding his hand below his zipper and cupping upward. Spinning back to my boys, I see Trevor mimic Mason’s motion, and then he state, “I have cojones.”

“Oh God,” I mutter while Anna quietly snickers. Facing her, I find her smile is weak while the sound is enough of a reminder that my friend needs to laugh. Maybe not at dick and ball antics, but it’s good to see some kind of grin curl her lips. “Okay. No more talk of cojones and no showing the neighbor your pecker.”

“I didn’t show her my pecker. I had to pee,” Oliver reminds me.

“Can I show her my cojones?” Trevor asks, dropping his voice to sound rough and gangster.

“No, and just for adding this word to your vocabulary, Uncle Mason wants to take you two to the beach.”

Mason chuckles before coming forward to clap me hard on my shoulder blade. “Okay, little guys, let’s take our big cojones to the beach.” Mason passes me, and my boys break into cheers while racing to the car for their bags.

“I’m sorry about that,” I say to Anna as my shoulders fall in defeat.

“Well, if anyone is going to teach them about big cojones, it’s Uncle Mason.” Her comment breaks us both into laughter, and I open my arms once again to bring her in for a hug.

This time, I think I’m the one who needs it.

+ + +

The trip to the beach is chaos. Clothing changes. Beach towels. Snacks. Water bottles. Another bathroom check.

“Please tell me one of those coolers has beer,” I mumble to Mason as we descend toward the sand.

“Locked and loaded, stressed daddy,” Mason teases. One hundred and fifty wooden stairs take us down the cliff to the shore with a small deck landing in the middle to view the grand lake before us. I’m hoping all the steps will deplete some of my boys’ energy. It’s wishful thinking, at least.

A set of Adirondack chairs stand in a circle on the beach, and I’m instantly reminded of the last time I sat here among my friends, along with Ben. We were celebrating baby Ben’s birth while watching Ben’s sons play football and my sons run around like the little crazy beasts they are. I shake off the sadness and offer Anna a small smile when she catches me staring at an empty chair.

“Beer?” I offer, stepping over to the cooler in desperate need of refreshment.

“No thanks,” she mutters, gazing out at my boys playing on the edge of the water. Her daughter, Mila, entertains them. Being eleven, she’s crossed over the line and considers the twins too young to be playmates. Instead, she shows interest in them like a babysitter might.

“They grow so fast,” Anna states, still watching the three interact. Her sons are not home yet today. Calvin is seventeen and inherited Ben’s old truck. Bryce turned fifteen and is off with friends for the day. The boys seemed to have adjusted well enough to the sudden move their parents decided to make while they were in high school. What’s difficult to judge is how they are handling the death of their father at such vulnerable ages.