It took, like, a million sittings to get this chapter written. I swear. It didn't help that I decided to have an Avengers marathon last Wednesday, Thursday, Friday instead of sitting my ass down and getting another chapter out. But anyway. Go ahead and read.

Chapter 18

"Stand back foul creature!" Edi cried, taking up the defence pose his uncles had taught him, facing his brother. "Tell me where the Princess is or I'll ...I'll, um... take your eyes out with this whachamagicagigy."

We were all four of us, crammed into the optometrist's office. Carlos had made the appointment for each of us to get our eyes tested so that the boys wouldn't be scared by the equipment being used. So far it seemed to be working, though I'm not sure it wouldn't have gone like this had we simply brought them in for their own checkups anyway. The moment we'd stepped into the exam room the boys' jaws had dropped as they took in all the gadgets and doodads. Their imaginations had since gone wild. Currently, they were caught up in a seemingly epic battle between a knight and a wizard. Mat was the wizard, Edi the knight.

"And I'll magicify a giant spider to protect me!" Mat exclaimed in retaliation. "RAWR!"

"Spiders don't go RAWR, doofus!" Edi countered.

"Don't call me doofus, fart face!"

I sighed, glancing to the eye specialist with the eye that wasn't covered by the paddle he'd handed me. "Sorry about the noise," I apologised. "They can get a little excited when they see new things and their imaginations get carried away."

"At least they're not screaming in terror," he replied, taking the paddle from me. "Alright, boys, I'm gonna need to borrow that torture device for a minute," he addressed the boys, using the name Mat had given the chin-stirrup-look-into-you-eyes-to-check-for-disease-thingy earlier. "I've just got to look into your mom's eyes for a bit."

Both their jaws dropped at his statement. "Are you gonna hypnotise her?" they asked in unison, racing to the chair beside their father and climbing up to stand on it so that they were able to see what he was doing. They were absolutely fascinated as the optometrist positioned my head in the chin stirrup and set up the other parts of the divice.

Mat turned to Edi. "I told you I wasn't the bad guy," he said. "He is."

"He's gonna brainwash Mom and turn her into a zombie!" Edi exclaimed.

Carlos chuckled. "Relax, boys, he's not going to turn her into a zombie."

The optometrist turned wild eyes to Mat and Edi. "Oh no, it'll be much worse than that." And then he broke into a convincingly evil laugh. I'd give him an eight out of ten for evilness on that laugh. I was relieved that he got that boys would be boys and was able to ease them into the new experience by playing along with their imaginations. It made the whole ordeal that much more bearable.

When finally, we'd all been examined – Carlos and Matias more than Eduardo or I, as it turns out, Carlos's vision left a bit to be desired – we followed the optometrist back out to the main room. I took Mat and followed the helpful young lady that offered to show us the cool kid's frames while Carlos followed the optometrist to pick out a pair of frames for himself, Edi in tow. We met at the counter several minutes later at which point Carlos told me to take the boys for ice-cream while he paid and he'd meet us in the food court when he was done. I was disappointed that he hadn't asked for my opinion on his frames, or at least shown me the ones he'd picked, but I suppose I could wait. I'd see them soon enough anyway.

"The glasses should be ready to be picked up tomorrow afternoon," Carlos said, sliding into the chair beside me, simultaneously taking a lick of my ice cream cone and wiping the melted ice cream from Edi's chin.

"I thought it usually took a week or two to get them done," I said, frowning as he took another lick. "You could get your own if you wanted one," I added.

"I wouldn't eat a whole one. And I paid a little extra to have them put on the top of the pile."

I moved the cone out of his reach as he ducked in for a third lick. "I will eat and entire cone. If you want more, share with your sons." Hilariously, at my words, the boys both scooted their chairs back so that their cones were out of their father's reach and they started licking faster. "Looks like if you want any more you have to get your own," I reiterated.

Carlos shrugged. "I'll go without," he decided easily. "It'll be dinner time soon anyway."

*o*

"What's the plan for today?" Carlos asked, reaching across me for the loaf of bread I'd conveniently placed out of his reach so he'd have to brush up against me when he eventually needed it, waking up all those scrumptious feelings I loved so much.

It was breakfast time and I was making toast for the boys while he put together their lunch boxes. We'd spoken briefly the previous evening about confronting my mother to find out if Brodie could indeed be my brother or at least a close cousin. He'd mentioned the need to do it sooner rather than later, since we kinda told Brodie we'd be in touch soon with information on his mom – which was possibly my mom! I was absolutely dreading having such a conversation with my disapproving mother, though. Just on the off chance that I'd be accusing her of things she didn't do and she got all defensive and cut me off from cake. So, naturally, I'd suggested Carlos do it. Which went down like a lead balloon.

"You're sure you won't talk to my mom for me?" I asked hopefully, passing him the margarine.

Quickly slapping together a couple of sandwiches and closing the lunch box lids, Carlos turned to face me. "No offense to you or your mother, I'm not exactly her favourite person in the world. We don't see eye to eye." He paused, putting foodstuffs back in their respective places before adding in an almost mumble. "And she can be mean."

I couldn't believe my ears. Was he actually admitting to what I thought he was admitting to? "Ricardo Ranger Carlos Batman Manoso," I said sternly. "Are you trying to tell me you're afraid of my mother?"

"Of course not," he said quickly. "We just have a mutual understanding that provided you and the boys are healthy and it's not mandatory family dinner night, we'll stay out of each other's way and pretend that I'm not forever putting my life, and by extension the lives of my wife and children at risk. And since when do I have so many middle names?"

Ignoring his bemused question, I stated, "What you're saying is, you fear her hateful glare and don't want to be accused of snooping into her business."

"That too," he agreed. "I fear her glare almost as much as I fear yours."

"It's settled then," I announced, slapping the toast on a plate.

His brows drew together for an instant, like he was vaguely confused but didn't want me to know. "You'll talk to your mother?" he asked incredulously.

A burst of laughter shot out of my mouth before I could control it. "Hell no!"

"Mommy said a curse!" Mat and Edi accused from the breakfast table.

"She has to put a dollar in the swear jar," Edi proclaimed.

The next thing I knew, Mat was standing beside me with a large plastic jar that had "No Swearing" scrawled on the paper taped to the side. I dutifully selected a dollar from the change on the bench and stuffed it inside. As the boys returned to their breakfast, I asked Carlos, "How long have they had a swear jar?"

"A few weeks," he replied, taking the toast I'd just buttered over to the table for them. "They have one here and one in the break room at work. They're saving for new x-box games apparently."

It was a good idea, especially given the amount of times we'd had to tell them to not repeat anything the Merry Men said because half of it was so riddled with swear words you could barely form a coherent sentence out of it by censoring the conversation. But Mat and Edi weren't at Rangeman all the time. "Who polices the one at Rangeman?"

"The boys when they're there," he said. "Or the guys police each other when the mood strikes."

"I bet Lester's a whole lot poorer than he used to be," I commented, glancing down to see Toaster winding her way between Carlos's legs. That cat was absolutely smitten with him. And I had a sneaking suspicion the feeling was mutual. I'd once again woken to find the fluffy cuteness sharing my pillow.

"No doubt," he agreed. "Now back on topic. If you're not talking to your mom about this. And I'm definitely not talking to your mom about it. Then who is?"

I smiled at him. "No one yet. I'm gonna talk to Grandma."

"Touché," he said to me, before turning a stronger voice on his sons. "Finish up and go feed Toaster. It's time to go."

Having the boys muck around in the optometrist office was Shreek's idea. She also provided the insult "fart face" because that was her main insult to her older brother when she was little.

I have no idea when I will next update, because tomorrow marks the start of National Novel Writing Month and I intend on taking the challenge for the first time in history. I will be scrambling to writed 50 000 words in just thirty days. So I apologise that the next chapter will probably not be out until December (unless I get incredibly distracted from my task and thereby invoke the wrath of Shreek and probably a few other people). If I remember, I will post my progress on my profile page in case you're interested.

But in the mean time, don't forget to review.