The Pink Dinosaur’s Father
Copyright© 2025 by OmegaPet-58
Chapter 2: El Día de Muertos
MIKE
Sleep didn’t come easily for me on Halloween night. My active mind wouldn’t ease up enough to let me rest, jumping from topic to topic but constantly circling back to Grace. Grace’s hair, her eyes, her smile, her curves, and her sweet kisses.
Long-dormant feelings were coming back to me. Haunting me, actually—appropriate for October 31st. Lindsey died six years ago, leaving me shattered. Only my obligations to little Tricia kept me going, and romance was left completely off the table. I put myself back in the isolated emotional space I lived in before marrying her, focused on duty. Instead of duty to my country and the (Marine) Corps, my whole duty now was to my little daughter.
But tonight, Grace appeared, and my composure was shot to hell. It wasn’t her sexuality, exactly; it was affection. It had been so long since a woman had cared for me! I missed it. Terribly. Did Grace feel that same prolonged lack of affection in her life?
While thinking about Grace, I was reminded of her miserable ex-husband. That jerk failed her and their children in every way possible, but he maintains his malevolent role in Grace’s life, still exerting his toxic influence. It had to stop! But how?
I groaned and flipped over to face my alarm clock, watching the digits change from 11:59 to 12:00.
I thought, “November 1st—the Mexican Day of the Dead. They call it El Día de Muertos.” My college friend from Mexico City described the celebrations, starting with building a home altar, visiting graves to leave marigolds, and the parades and the sugar skulls. This is all done to respectfully and joyfully honor family members and loved ones who have recently passed away.
I was back to thinking about Lindsey.
“Oh, baby, I’ve missed you! I don’t know what to do!”
And then, suddenly, I did know. I remembered a conversation when we were together on leave, where Lindsey reminded me how we were often under fire; she reminded me one or the other of us might not be going home to little Tricia.
Lindsey said, “If I’m gone, she should have a stepmother; if you’re gone, a stepfather. That would be best for her, I think.”
I thought, “Why didn’t I remember that until just now?” Then: “If Grace will have me, we could be very happy together. I can’t fuck this up.”
Finally, I was able to sleep.
Tricia and I parked at the Decker Playground on time at 10:30. I was a little surprised to see the playground wasn’t very busy, compared to my last visit. Some swings were hanging motionless, only a couple of kids were defending the plastic castle or fortress, and other kids were freely sliding down the slides and looping around to climb the stairs back to the top to slide again without having to wait.
“Tricia, I’m surprised it isn’t very crowded here for a Saturday. Do you know why?”
“Daddy, half the kids are home holding their aching stomachs after eating too much candy last night. I’m glad they stayed away.”
“Why?”
My daughter rolled her eyes dramatically. “I don’t want to go down a slide when some kid has barfed all over it!”
I tried to scold my daughter, but I was too busy laughing.
“Tricia, you’re the smartest kid in this park. Actually, do you see those adults over there smoking cigarettes? You’re smarter than they are, for sure.”
“I think you’re right, Dad; I mean, why smoke tobacco when marijuana is legal now?”
“WHAT?”
“Oh, Daddy, my teacher told me I should tell you that.”
“WHAT?”
“She told us your face would go purple. Look! She was right.”
“TRICIA!”
“I love you, Dad. I’m teasing you. It worked! At school, they combine tobacco and marijuana education. Which is stupid, because ‘education’ would be teaching us how to smoke.”
“That’s another joke they gave you to tell me?”
“Yes, exactly. Oh, look, there’s your girlfriend’s car. I see those bad words on it.”
Seated at a picnic table, I put my head in my hands and moaned.
“Tricia, do me a favor. Let’s repeat that comedy routine for Grace. She’s so cute when she gets embarrassed.”
“Daddy, don’t be dumb. Your girlfriend is cute all the time. You are supposed to tell her that, not me.”
Saving my sanity, Lisa, Jon, and Grace walked up then, and the girls dashed off to the vomit-less slides.
“Hello, beautiful,” Grace said to me.
Instead of arguing, I just said, “Right back at ya, Grace. How are you feeling today?”
“I feel great! I have a new boyfriend, my Volvo started, and I put on clean underwear this morning. Life is perfect!”
I studied Grace for a moment and decided to go with the safest option. “Having issues with your Volvo?”
“Eh, it needs a new battery. And a visit to the body and paint shop, I guess. You know, you were right about Willie. Seven times last night he tried to get ahold of me to demand an explanation of my evening’s activities.”
“Seven times! Grace, are you listening to the man in front of you? I’m telling you, Willie is obsessed.”
“He is. And it’s exhausting. Anyway, this morning, my daughter said, ‘There’s your girlfriend’s car; I see those bad words on it.’”
“And that’s a problem because...” Grace studied my face.
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