April 10, 2012
It's 7am, and I am counting the minutes on the clock. The clock just struck 7:03, and I am just mesmerized by it. I count the little hash marks that form the number over and over.
"There are 14 digital hash marks that form the numerals."
My boys are still out. Baby's nose is clogged, and he is breathing deeply. His body is turned into my chest. Both of his arms are raised up high to his chest. His arms are sandwiched in between his body and my body. His tiny little arms remind me of a Tyrannosaurs Rex because of their position.
"Okay, there are 16 hash marks that make up the digital time of 7:08."
Nico is pressed up against my back. I can feel the heat of his breath, even with my t-shirt on. I reach back and feel his legs. They are cold from the central air, and the fan is on. "It's 7:15", I say.
"10 digital hash marks" are needed to form those numbers in the digital clock.
Do I cover his legs? I suppose there is time since he doesn't have to be at school until 7:50.
"14 digital hash marks."
We haven't moved from this couch. Like a boot camp drill instructor, I hear Mimie telling me, "Get up! It's his routine. He has to get to school on time." I reluctantly sit up.
My body weight created an enclave in the cushions. So much so that both boys rolled into it like a deep ditch. Their roll-down causes them to crash into each other. I look back and cringe, thinking they will cry, but they laugh. Their laughter gives way to a smile on my face. I look forward to the time, reach back with my right hand, and touch Baby's hair. I then stretch over by leaning my body into baby's and, with my same right hand, run my fingers through Nico's hair. I never look at them. I am just fixated on the clock.
"7:26, 14 digital hash marks." I'm losing my mind.
I feel this connection with my boys that I compare to surviving a plane crash with each other. The thought of being away from them hurts. It's a constant need to be a part of their life every minute. It feels like they are all I have left in this world, and I must protect them. "I can never let anything happen to them," I think.
Then my mind thinks of Finding Nemo. Like I said, I am losing my mind about the part where Nemo's dad, Marlin, has this give-and-take with Dory.
Marlin:
I promised I'd never let anything happen to him. (Meaning Nemo)
Dory:
Hmm. That's a funny thing to promise.
Marlin:
Why?
Dory:
Well, you can't ever let anything happen to him. Then, nothing would ever happen to him. Not much fun for little Harpo.
I stare at the blank television. "Shit 7:34."
"12 digital hash marks."
"We gotta get going," I think. I jump into action. I scoop both boys up in both arms. I change their diapers and get Nico dressed. Baby is in his PJ. It's acceptable attire for the drive to Nico's school and even more acceptable for Walmart because we go there to shop once we drop Nico off. I go out to the mini-van, and I place them in their car seats one at a time. Nico first, then I run back inside and get Christopher next. As I walk out with Christopher, I notice the time, "Damn,7:44."
"10 digital hash marks, no wait, 11, 11 digital hash marks. Jesus, Chris, stop doing that", I think to myself.
Finally, everyone is in the van, and we are going to Nico's school. As I drive away, I wonder if I am doing this right. Can I do this right? My eating has sucked, my sleeping has sucked, and I have no routine. "Just keep plugging away," I tell myself aloud. "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming," my mind reverted to Nemo. I look at the time, 7:51 it displays.
"11 digs…., "Oh fuck it, that clock ain't digital anyhow."
Christopher Fusaro is the author of Captain Imperfecto.
691 words
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