Triptych Read Online Free

thumping in his chest as he lifted his son up into his arms. The kid was eight now, much too big to be held, but Michael couldn’t help himself. He stroked back the cowlick on the top of Tim’s head. “You sleep okay, kiddo?”
    Tim nodded, pulling away from Michael’s hand, pushing at his shoulder so he could get down.
    “Let’s clean up this mess before Ba-Ba gets here,” he suggested, scooping some of the cereal into his hand and tossing it into the box. Barbara came during the week to watch Tim. She took him to school, picked him up, made sure he had his snack and did his homework. Most days, she spent more time with him than either Michael or Gina, but it wasn’t like either of them had a choice.
    “Ba-Ba won’t like this mess,” Michael said.
    “Nope,” Tim agreed. He was sitting at the table, legs pulled up underneath him. The fly to his Spider-Man pajamas sagged open.
    “Tuck in your equipment, buddy,” Michael admonished, trying to fight the wave of sadness that came over him as Tim fumbled with the buttons.
    Michael had been an only child, probably a little more than spoiled. When Tim came along, he didn’t know anything about caring for a baby. Changing Tim’s diaper had been embarrassing, something to get over with as quickly as possible and with minimal contact. Now, all Michael could think about was the fact that Tim would hit puberty in a few years. His body would start growing, changing him into a man, but his mind would never catch up. He would never know what it was like to make love to a woman, to use what God gave him to bring pleasure to another human being. He would never have children of his own. Tim would never know the joy and heartache of being a father.
    “Who made this mess?” Gina asked. She was wrapped in the blue silk robe Michael had given her for Christmas a couple of years ago, her hair swirled up in a towel. “Did you make this mess?” she teased Tim, cupping his chin in her hand as she kissed his lips. “Ba-Ba won’t like this,” she said. Michael got a secret kick that the kid hadn’t been able to call Barbara grandma like she wanted.
    Tim started to help clean up, making more of a mess in the process. “Uh-oh,” he said, dropping to his knees, picking up one Cheerio at a time, counting them out loud as he handed them to his mother.
    Gina asked Michael, “You getting home at a decent hour tonight?”
    “I told you I had a case.”
    “In a bar?” she said, and he turned his back to her, taking a couple of mugs down from the cabinet. He’d been too wound up last night to come straight home. Leo had suggested they get a drink, talk about the case, and Michael had taken him up on the offer, using the excuse to toss back a couple of bourbons and take the edge off what he’d seen.
    “Eleven…” Tim counted. “Twelve…”
    Gina said, “You smell like an ashtray.”
    “I didn’t smoke.”
    “I didn’t say you did.” She dropped a handful of Cheerios into the box and held out her hand for more.
    “Fourteen,” Tim continued.
    “I just needed some time.” Michael poured coffee into the mugs. “Leo wanted to talk about the case.”
    “Leo wanted an excuse to get shitfaced.”
    “Uh-oh,” Tim sang.
    “Sorry, baby,” Gina apologized to their son. She softened her tone. “You skipped a number. What happened to thirteen?”
    Tim shrugged. For the moment, he could only count to twenty-eight, but Gina made sure he hit every number along the way.
    Gina told Tim, “Go get dressed for Ba-Ba. She’ll be here soon.”
    Tim stood and bounced out of the room, skipping from one foot to the other.
    Gina dropped the Cheerios into the box and sat down with a groan. She had pulled a double shift this weekend to pick up some extra money. The day hadn’t even started and already she looked exhausted.
    “Busy night?” he asked.
    She took a sip of coffee, looking at him over the steam rising from the mug. “I need money for the new therapist.”
    Michael sighed,