Not Important

Surprises at the beach

"What happened, Brian?", I ask him, as we drive towards Kerry's house.

"My wife left me", he mutters, keeping his eyes on the road. His eyes seem sunken and sad, and his right hand moving from the gear shift to the wheel is moving in slow motion, every movement careless.

"Why did she leave?", I ask him, my voice small, and waiting for him to speak. It isn't like me to be nosey or asking questions that I shouldn't ask. I just asked, and I don't even think I want to know.

"She left me because she found someone else, she thinks I'm boring and ugly, and she just doesn't love me anymore", Brian says, with no feeling.

I nod my head in understanding. I wish that was all, until I heard the next things he says.

"Also, she think I either work too much, or I am with the children too much", he adds, and I feel my lips go dry and a pain rise in my chest.

"How many children do you have?", I ask him, my voice coming out hoarse. Damn. This isn't supposed to affect me so much. I tell myself to 'focus on the future, and forget the past'. That's why I have been telling myself since my mum left, and even more so when my brother left.

"Four. Three girls and a boy", he tells me, and I can see the adoration in his eyes, and the small smile on his lips. That's going to either be even tougher, or too hard to cope with. It depends on if three of them are careless idiots who only care about themselves.

"How old?", I ask again, glad that what I just said didn't sound hoarse at all.

"Well, Cameron is twelve. Finn is ten. Meghan is nine. And Zoe is five", he tells me.

I take a deep breath, glad not one of them was a newborn or toddler. It would have been better if one of them was older and capable of looking after their family without losing their childhood, because they would have already gone through their childhood.

"How am I supposed to do this? She wants a divorce, and wants me to keep all of the children. I can do that, but alone? I would have to work and be a parent at the same time. How am I supposed to do that?", he asks me, and I can see the trouble and doubt on his face.

"It's nearly impossible. Especially with you having four children. One of them being five years old", I tell him, gulping down the bad feeling in my throat.

"The children must think this is all my fault. And it is", he says, whispering at the end.

"Brian, this was not your fault. Your wife...your wife probably just had all of this doubt, frustration and responsibility on her plate and she couldn't handle it. She probably just wanted an easy life with no worries", I tell him. I look down at my hand to find that the guitar pick is in it.

"But what about the children? What do I do?", he asks me, or most likely himself.

"Just...don't result to drinking, okay?", I ask him.

"What? What does that have to do with-", he starts, but I cut him off.

"Just don't. It will ruin no only your life, but your children's lives too", I tell him, making sure I'm speaking clearly and that he remembers this. He nods.

We don't talk until he pulls up in front of Kerry's house.

"Thanks for listening to my problems, Devon. And sorry for telling you my problems. I probably ruined your day already", Brian apologises, after getting out. I shut the passenger side door.

"You shouldn't be sorry. I'm glad you talked to me about your problems. If you need to talk to anyone, I'm always here to listen", I tell him, before entering Kerry's house.