We’re sitting in the backyard. We’re supposed to be watching the grill, but I can’t cook, and the boys’ chores are all cleanup-based. So, if the ribs burn, we’ll all be sad about it, but the three of us won’t be able to stop it. Besides, we have more pressing matters on our hands. We’re strategizing for the rec league basketball playoffs. Well, kinda. Darren is the quintessential supportive dad on the sidelines, offering encouragement and coaching every now and then. Nadia likes to keep track of their stats mostly because it helps her ignore the crowd. I like to make signs. I also yell very loudly, and every now and then, I give questionable advice.

“That’s not nice, Jourdan. We’re supposed to be better than that.”

I wrap my arm around Nate’s shoulders and hug him into my side. “You’re right, sweetheart. You’re such a good boy. What if I tapped him lightly with my car?”

Nate sighs. “Jourdan.”

“I’m just saying. As your bonus mom, I just want to help you two win the championship. How can I help without incurring a felony?”

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Danny says.

“What sounds like a good idea?” Darren asks, scaring the shit out of us as he pulls open the grill cover and begins to poke at the meat.

“Nothing,” Danny says much too fast.

If he weren’t my son, I would explain to him that, to make a good lie work, he’ll need to rein in his reactions; pretend to consider the question, or at least, always take a couple of breaths before answering. But he is my son, and I don’t want to help him lie to us, at least, because he’s kind of terrible at it, and I find that very soothing.

Darren stops walking and pierces his oldest son in his stare. From the neck down, he looks very suburban Black dad getting ready for the first barbecue of the year in his Adidas slides, basketball shorts, and gray t-shirt. His torso is covered in a novelty apron that reads ‘Grease On Down the Roast!’ But from the neck up, he looks like a cop ready for the interrogation of his life.

I crack.

“I told them they need to chin check the defense in the game next week. Or trip them.”

Darren’s expression softens, and he rolls his eyes. “Jourdan,” he says my name as an exasperated sigh.

“Nate said it was a bad idea, and Danny wasn’t fully on board.”

“I mean…” Danny starts.

I slap my hand over his mouth.

“Jourdan,” Darren sighs.

“I’m sorry. I’m still very new to this parenting thing.”

Danny pulls my hand from his mouth. “I think she’s doing alright.”

“She’s great at Alien Overlord,” Nate offers helpfully. Bless these kids.