Page 49 of Reclaimed Dreams

Dom took the knife from his hand and sliced the apple himself before scooping peanut butter into a bowl and adding the apple. “Do you want some of this, Fi?”

His little princess shook her head. “I don’t like it. I want grapes.”

“I bet you want them peeled too,” Dom muttered under his breath. “How about some raisins? I think I saw some in the pantry.”

“No. I want grapes.”

“Raisins are grapes that have a suntan.”

Sofia giggled. “No, they aren’t, Daddy. You’re making that up.”

“Don’t you know? I heard it through the grapevine…” Dom began to sing and swirled Sofia up into a boogie toward the pantry. She had no idea what he was singing about, but she was always game for a twirl. He got out a little box of raisins and handed it to her. “Give them a try. Go with your brothers and eat at the table.”

He handed the banana bowl to Gabe to carry and turned back to his dinner plans. Sauce. How hard could it be? He dumped the small can of tomato paste into a saucepan and added some water. He tried mixing it together but the paste just swirled unhelpfully in the cold water. Maybe he needed to heat it up. He sprinkled in some salt and pepper and set it to simmer. He glanced at the timer only to realize, fuck, he hadn’t set the timer.

The pasta pot unhelpfully hissed at him and boiled over. Dom slapped off the heat and dumped the pot into a colander. The strained pasta was disintegrating at the ends but was stuck together and still hard in the middle. How had he managed to both under AND over cook the spaghetti?

Still trying to salvage the meal, he carried the dripping pasta back to the stove and poured it into his makeshift sauce, mixing it until it kind of came together. The starch from the melting pasta actually helped the sauce thicken. Proud of his concoction, he used tongs to fill bowls for the kids and carried them to the table, where he thought they’d be sitting.

“Kids?” he asked as he followed the sound of the television into the living room. Oh shit.

Gabe just wiped his peanut butter hands on his pants and the couch, Sofia had lost half of her raisins on the floor, and Enzo was smearing his bananas on the coffee table.

“I told you to eat at the table! Look at this mess! Who’s going to clean this up?” Dom asked, his voice rising in frustration.

Sofia’s lip began to quiver. Enzo leapt past quivering, straight into piercing sobs. Damn it.

“I’ll help, Dad.” Gabe ran to the kitchen for a towel and began smearing the banana even further around on the glass-topped surface.

“It’s okay, son. I’ll take care of it. Let’s all go wash hands. Dinner is ready.”

By the time he’d waged war on germs and cleaned up the ensuing bathroom flooding, the noodles had gone cold. Sitting in their booster seats around the table, all three took their first bites with varying degrees of concern. Gabe picked out one noodle to inspect it, as if sizing it up for a fishing hook, before lowering the whole thing into his mouth. Sofia poked at hers with her fork and sniffed it skeptically. Enzo dove right in, shoving a handful of noodles into his mouth, and promptly choking on them before spitting them back out on the table.

“It can’t be that bad.” Dom cut Enzo’s noodles into smaller pieces before handing him back his bowl, which the toddler dumped into his lap. His own hanger threatened to spill over, but Dom bit his tongue. He realized he’d handle cleanup better with a full stomach. Dom’s stomach growled, and he twirled the pasta on his fork and took a big bite.

He wanted points for actually chewing and swallowing. Holy hell, what a disaster. The pasta was unfortunately as gross as it had looked, and the sauce was vile. This dish might have made sense with some pickles and vodka added, because it was definitely more Bloody Mary than Bolognese. He looked at his kids’ faces as they tried to eat what he’d made for them and cringed.

“Okay, change of plans. You kids hop in the tub and play. I’m going to order pizza.”

They cheered and raced for the tub, shedding clothes as they went. Dom made the call and read off his credit card number with only a small wince at the cost.

He’d told Jo he’d handle it, and handle it he did. Forty minutes, five towels, and two cheese pizzas later, all of his children were bathed and fed.

Did it happen in the right order? Who was to say what was right and wrong in the order of childcare operations? Was everyone full and happy? Yes. Did they make it into bed? Absolutely not.

Dom collapsed on the couch and all three of his little munchkins curled up with him. Gabe leaned into his right side, Sofia sat on his left thigh, and Enzo curled up on his chest. Thoroughly worn out, he leaned his head back against the couch, and they all fell fast asleep.

That was how Jo found them, a pile of limbs and tender curls, clinging to their Daddy. She’d left Frankie tucked into their bed in search of a water bottle. She was parched and figured she should hydrate before climbing into the hot shower to try and relieve some of the pain in her breasts. The sight of her people all curled up like puppies in a basket made her smile.

When her awareness zoomed out to take in the state of the room, she groaned. What a mess! Had Dom helped? Yes. That hour-long nap had made her nearly human again. But was the cost too high? Possibly. She’d likely spend a solid hour tomorrow cleaning up the trail of snacks.

Heading into the kitchen, Jo let out a gasp. Dear God, what had he done? A congealed mess of pasta was caked in one of her pans, the floor was an unholy mess, and the greasy pizza boxes sat stacked on top of the range. Nothing had been put away. And how many utensils had the man used?

Her husband was a very handy man, but this was not his forte. She appreciated the attempt, but she also wished he’d looked before he leapt into action.

Never again, she vowed. If Dom offered to help with dinner, she’d have to come up with a way to let him down gently. She snagged a piece of cold pizza and her bottle of water. This help came with too high a price tag.

They did all look peaceful and happy though. Maybe not too high a price…

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