You're Blue

Love Child

Love child

The kid was crying.

I couldn't negate the sound from my ears, it was ringing, and no one was here to help.

I've got stuck with the love child.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here," I coo, as I rush over to the child of three years.

"I want my parents," he cried into my shoulder.

It should've been me. He should be crying for me, but here I was comforting him as if he was my own, "it's okay, they're out right now, picking out a ring, and they'll be here shortly, alright sport?" I say, wiping his tears and he nods swiftly. "Now, what do you say for some ice cream, eh?" I ask and his eyes widen as he shakes his head yes, frantically.

I laugh and grab his hand and my keys and we head out the door for some vanilla sweets.

As we were seated in a abstracted booth, alienated from a lot of whiny children, I asked Alex, "Does mommy and daddy seem happy with each other?" Out of pure curiosity.

He ponders over the thought, and shrugs, "mhm, hm, mommy goes out a lot and daddy stays with me."

I nodded in response, "do they fight?"

"A little, daddy's nice and mommy, um-"

"Mommy what? Complains?" I asked and he looks off into space, probably wondering what that means.

"Yeah," he laughs and I sigh, and smile faintly at him. Maybe I still have a chance, after all.

She's my blue.