Bar.
Light slices the half-dark into strips,
glass rings, ice cracks,
and in the speakers — No Time to Talk — Jonas Brothers.
I scream.
For real. No filters.
The girls too —
la-la-la, no time…
A-a-a-a!
No time to talk.
The music hits my shoulders,
and I start to move —
first my shoulders,
then my whole body,
like it’s been waiting for this forever.
Shot. Napkin. Three taps.
Glass to the lips,
fire inside,
and we’re already on the dance floor.
The boys drink first,
pretend they don’t care,
and then — of course —
they follow us.
Like on a signal.
I’m in bliss.
Pure, childlike,
almost aching joy.
The guys are so beautiful
it makes you want to laugh.
Josh is magnificent:
black pants, white shirt — classic.
Jonathan —
white shirt, jeans,
that exact look
where nothing needs to be added.
Nate —
white T-shirt,
jacket on the chair,
jeans, hair tousled —
that collected carelessness of his
that makes something inside me melt.
I’m melting with pleasure.
Honestly —
what could be better?
Everyone looks like
they were just shot
for a cover
and then let loose to live.
The girls and I
fake a synchronized faint —
hand to the forehead,
theatrical sigh,
laughter through shrieks.
I kiss Nate.
Quick, bold, laughing with my lips.
And right behind his back
I flip the middle finger at the next table.
No sound, just my lips:
he’s mine.
Deal with it.
The guys are already dancing.
Not pretending — dancing.
Bodies catch the rhythm,
the music is no longer background —
it’s inside.
We light it up.
For real.
In the speakers again:
No Time to Talk —
turn it up,
scream it out,
say aaah.
Aaah.
Nate spins me
however he wants.
Confidently.
Easily.
With that precise masculine certainty
where you understand:
you’re being held —
and you don’t have to think.
The world blurs.
I’m getting drunk for real.
The light jumps.
People are just shadows at the edges.
I’m happy.
Not “good,”
not “having fun,”
but happy —
in my body, in my breath,
in this moment.
God,
how I love this man.
And everything in me
reacts to it.
One day I’ll get used to the fact
that he’s my husband.
I’m in a mini.
And suddenly —
a tug at my skirt.
I don’t realize right away what’s happening.
— Mom.
Mommy.
Roman looks up at me,
impatient, insistent,
the way only children can
when they urgently need to be seen.
Ohhh, hi, sweetheart.
And I laugh,
bend down to him,
take his hands —
and start dancing with my son.
Just like that.
No posing.
No “how does it look.”
Body to body,
laughter into laughter.
Carmen, as always,
with her beloved Jonathan.
She’s already right next to him,
confident,
the one in charge.
Cody and I nod approvingly —
just like a respectable “wife” should.
Rosie is with her dad.
Nate scoops her up
and spins her around,
like a real princess.
She squeals with delight,
throws her arms wide.
— Daddy, you’re the best!
And Nate glows.
Winks at me.
The kids squeal,
laughter spills across the dance floor,
and the people around us
are no longer a bar,
just scenery.
Meanwhile, Carmen
is already on Jonathan’s shoulders.
He put her there —
calmly, confidently —
and they circle the floor,
as if that’s exactly how it should be.
I can’t believe
Jonathan isn’t working.
Not on Zoom,
not on calls,
not even in his thoughts.
At least today.
Today Jonathan turns forty-four.
I raise my glass.
I sway a little —
but Nate is right there,
his hand instantly on my waist,
holding me
without even looking.
— Jonathan…
my love…
my heart…
Nate winces.
Just slightly.
I burst out laughing.
Damn.
This toast is about Nate.
The room explodes with laughter.
Someone snorts,
someone’s already clapping,
someone shouts something approving.
— So… —
I clear my throat,
trying to pull myself together.
— Jonathan…
my dear boy…
Nate coughs again.
Demonstratively.
The room explodes a second time,
with no chance of recovery.
— Jonathan… —
a pause.
I look at Nate.
He’s calm.
Smiling.
Completely pleased with what’s happening.
— Um…
well…
I spread my hands.
— Happy birthday.
Nate nods approvingly.
As if to say:
now that’s better.
The room erupts.
Applause rains down,
someone whistles,
someone shouts “cheers,”
someone laughs to tears.
And I stand there,
a glass in my hand,
between laughter and happiness,
thinking
that it’s simply impossible
to come up with a better evening than this.
Shots start flying,
and I relax so deeply…
and— I lit a cigarette.
— Mom?
Roman had his first existential crisis.
Mom isn’t perfect.
The image collapsed.
Damn it.
My eyes went wide.
— Son… I… I…
Nate shook his head.
Silently.
But very clearly.
I mouthed, without a sound: you shameless thing.
— Rom, I—
— Mom,
but smoking is bad.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I cursed silently.
I knelt down in front of him
so I wouldn’t be taller.
So we’d be eye to eye.
— Sweetheart, you know…
yes.
Smoking is bad.
And honestly…
I demonstratively threw back another shot.
— …drinking is bad too.
He blinked.
— But, sweetheart…
I gestured around us.
— Look.
Everyone here is dancing.
Everyone here is drunk.
But the men
are still holding everything together.
The girls are relaxed.
They can afford anything —
and it’s safe.
Because there is support.
All the men are strong.
And no one in this bar
has even a shadow of doubt
about who’s holding the structure.
— Yeeeah,
you’re not a super-mom anymore… —
Hades muttered inside.
I exhaled.
At least I’m honest with him.
— Sweetheart, this is bad.
Really bad.
But you know…
adults sometimes do things
that aren’t good for them.
And that’s bad.
But that’s why we’re adults —
to know the limit.
There are people, sweetheart,
who go down a crooked path…
I hesitated.
— Um…
I mean —
they do truly bad things.
And this…
—I pointed at the cigarette—
this is just mischief.
I thought for a moment
and continued more gently:
— Like when you watch cartoons
even though I forbade it…
but you and Nate sometimes don’t listen to me
and watch them
when I’m not around.
Or when he lets you have sweets
that I don’t allow.
Because this is…
well…
your own little mischief
while mom isn’t around.
Do you understand?
He thought about it.
For a long time.
Like an adult.
Then he nodded.
— Sometimes we all misbehave.
Just a little.
Because we’re alive, sweetheart.
People aren’t perfect —
and your dad and I aren’t either.
He looked up at me.
— So when I grow up,
I’ll smoke too.
All this time
Nate had been holding the cigarette.
He silently stepped forward,
grabbed Roman
and in one smooth motion
hoisted him up onto his shoulders.
— That, my friend,
is not happening.
Roman spun,
laughed,
squealed with delight
and, it seems,
finally made peace
with the fact
that mom is a troublemaker.
And dad…
too.
And the world,
thankfully,
did not collapse.
I exhaled.
And again —
turn it up.
no time to talk.
Oh—
oh yeah.
Everyone was dancing.
Everyone was laughing.
Kids, adults —
one living mass,
one rhythm,
one breath.
And suddenly
something washed over me.
I almost cried.
This is it.
Happiness.
Cody came up,
gently bumped me with her hip —
friendly,
familiar.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders,
pulled her close,
and we screamed together,
missing both the words
and the notes.
No time to talk!
Give me this— a-a-a-a-a!
My voice cracked,
laughter turned into squealing,
the squealing into pure joy.
Jonathan went out to smoke.
And I went out after him.
For a second — quieter.
Colder.
Night air.
— Jonathan, my dear…
you know how much I love you.
He smiled.
Calmly.
Warmly.
— You’re so handsome.
You’re so smart.
I’m so proud of you.
He kissed me on the cheek.
Gently.
Nothing extra.
And with my skin,
my back,
between my shoulder blades,
I felt it —
Nate was unhappy.
Very.
But I pretended
not to notice.
He’ll survive.
Definitely.
— Jonathan…
I hesitated.
That doesn’t happen to me often.
— Listen…
I can’t do this.
If it’s true —
just tell me, okay?
You know me.
I won’t leave you.
I won’t turn away.
But I need to know.
He looked at me.
Carefully.
Without rush.
I took a breath,
like before a jump.
— Why did you…
I mean…
why did you go back to Meryl?
Everything inside me recoiled and boiled;
I swallowed the impulse to cause a scene.
He shook his head.
— Then why
was her car at the house?
— We were dealing with property issues.
I narrowed my eyes.
— Forgive me,
but why was that
at three in the morning?
He spread his hands,
as if to say:
Meryl insisted.
I rolled my eyes.
What a bitch.
— So
you didn’t go back to her?
He shook his head again.
— Jonathan…
He looked at me.
Warmly.
A little tired.
— Darling,
and why…
why aren’t you dating
anyone?
He gestured toward the dance floor.
Toward Carmen.
— I’m already married.
I’m a decent man.
I burst out laughing.
— Jonathan…
And in that very moment
I regretted my question.
Well done,
Hades sneered.
— Get lost.
What if he says now
that he loves me?
Ah…
damn.
How awkward.
— I’m…
not ready yet, —
Jonathan finally said.
Calmly.
Honestly.
Sure — and at sixty he’ll be ready,
Hades muttered.
I stifled a laugh
and pretended to disapprove
of the dark humor.
But outwardly
I just nodded —
no drama,
no pressure.
Then I waved a hand
toward the room:
— Well…
it’s not like I support this,
but maybe,
at least…
He shook his head.
Slowly.
Stubbornly.
I turned him
to face the dance floor.
Women
were almost devouring him with their eyes.
Shamelessly.
Hungry.
— Darling,
all you have to do is hint…
— I can’t do that.
I smiled.
Softly.
And kissed him on the cheek again.
And then —
at the door.
Two clones.
Carmen.
And her clone —
her father.
Both with arms crossed over their chests.
Both —
clearly unhappy.
Jonathan and I
looked at each other
and burst out laughing.
At the same time,
we raised our hands,
surrendering.
— Let’s go.
I wrapped an arm around his shoulders,
casual,
easy,
familiar,
and we walked back inside.
Back to where
the music,
the laughter,
and life
were still going on.
And again —
five times in a row,
like a chant.
Turn it up.
Say aaah.
Aaah.
No time to talk.
I took a run-up
and jumped up onto Nate.
No warning.
Just like that.
— You’ve become so jealous, mister…
He smiled.
And right away —
leaned in close,
started purring straight into my ear.
Quiet.
Dangerous.
As always,
I started forgetting
how to breathe.
— Dad,
mom’s with me.
Please move.
Whoa.
— As you wish.
And — click.
Everything snapped
into place.
As if the world itself
had calmly arranged
all the pieces.
Jonathan —
with his “wife.”
Me —
with my son.
Nate —
with Rosie.
Roman is just like me.
We started shaking our hips,
pulling faces,
and yelling ridiculous things
while no one in the noisy bar could hear us.
— Hey, you butt, where are you hiding the diapers?
— You shouldn’t dance like that, you’ll get even skinnier.
— Your face looks like an avocado — green and bumpy, bleeeh!
And we laughed,
relishing the silliness.
Josh and Cody
were jumping to the beat.
The track switched.
Pretty please.
Oh—you look so pretty, please—
Dua Lipa is on fire.
’Cause I miss you, you, you
for my mind, please…
Shots are flying
like crazy.
Glass, laughter, hands —
I can barely make out faces anymore,
everything melts
into light, warmth,
and motion.
Nate kisses me
greedily
and openly.
Without even trying to hide it.
I laugh.
Stupidly.
Happily.
Someone taps their watch —
one a.m.
I catch Nate’s gaze,
tilt my head slightly,
hint with my eyes alone.
And that’s it.
Michael arrived
like lightning.
Perfect timing.
Jonathan carried Carmen
in his arms.
Carefully,
like the most precious thing.
Nate carried Rosie.
Roman —
on my back,
arms around my neck,
warm,
already half asleep.
The guys drove off first.
Cleanly.
No fuss.
Then the others —
by taxi.
On the way,
everyone crashed.
Heads leaned together,
breathing evened out,
the night finally
did its work.
In the kids’ room —
seven children
and five adults.
Eight out of eleven
smell like they came straight from a bar,
cigarettes,
and alcohol.
The rest —
holy,
like angels.
Josh is snoring.
For real.
With conviction.
Cody, half-asleep,
kicks him with her foot,
irritated,
without opening her eyes.
I’m holding Nate’s hand
even half-asleep.
Automatically.
But I can’t reach him —
the girls have fully occupied him,
like a fortress.
I managed to capture
only one finger.
Carmen, as always,
with Jonathan.
No surprises there.
Matty, Philip,
and the little girl
are sleeping on the floor,
scattered,
like after a long day of living.
Sophie is holding
Roman
and Killian,
carefully,
as if she’s holding
two worlds at once.
I was almost hysterical,
trying to talk Roman’s father into it
to let the boy
stay with us for the weekend.
I was almost begging.
And he agreed.
Thank God — that important, uptight ass
finally let the boy breathe.
The world
closed its doors
until morning.
Quiet.
No demands.
Let the kids
get some real sleep.

Morning.
Everyone except Jonathan
looks fresh
as a cucumber.
It makes me laugh.
A lot.
I start teasing him —
gently,
like at home.
The kids instantly join in,
in chorus,
with enthusiasm.
Jonathan holds on,
but it’s obvious —
he’s struggling.
Even Sebastian
winked at me.
Traitor.
The estate
explodes with music.
Everyone has microphones.
Real ones.
Toy ones — doesn’t matter.
The kids are screaming
like crazy.
I’m screaming with them.
— Let’s Get Loud!
My voice cracks,
laughter gets in the way of singing,
but nobody cares.
Cody snatches the microphone,
climbs onto the couch
like it’s a stage:
— Let’s get loud!
And, missing every single word,
happily:
— Let’s come loud!
We fold in half
from laughter.
The house is shaking.
Kids are squealing.
Morning has fully
woken up.
Jonathan groans,
covering his ears with his hands,
as if that might save him.
Nate laughs out loud.
Like a man.
Without even trying to hold it in.
— You gotta do it, do it your way!
— Let’s get loud!
The house is rocking.
The speakers are screaming like crazy.
The walls seem to vibrate.
Everyone around me
is yelling in rhythm.
No shame.
No brakes.
— Let’s Get Loud!
— Life makes big fun! Yeah!
Nate spins me
until the floor disappears beneath my feet.
Kids —
on the couch,
on the table,
anywhere they can climb.
Everyone is yelling at Jonathan
right into his ear.
The staff is filming everything.
History is writing itself.
I pull faces for the camera.
Without shame.
Roman shakes his butt
straight into the lens.
Josh and the twins
are shouting in rhythm,
talking over each other,
losing the words,
but not the joy.
— Let’s get looooud!
Jonathan,
still covering his ears,
finally gives up
and runs out of the dining room.
Killian looks at me
like
I’m
some kind of god.
— “Yes,
women like that do exist,” —
Nate winks at him.
I make the sweetest face
and spin Killian in a dance.
— Come on, buddy.
Don’t worry.
I won’t tell
your dad.
He relaxes.
His shoulders drop.
Laughter breaks through.
And then I caught myself
having that thought again:
Poor kid.
A father who’s just a beast.
Holding his son
by the throat.
Another five or six minutes
of torture for great CFO,
and finally everyone calmed down.
Rather Be — Clean Bandit.
Nate burst into the room —
a Nerf gun in his hands.
— A-a-a! —
I screamed,
honestly,
for real.
— Mom, hide!
I’ll protect you!
I lit up.
— Thank you, sweetheart.
The kids, squealing with delight,
rushed
for their guns.
— That’s it,
brace yourself!
And we started shooting.
No mercy.
No rules.
Bullets flying,
screams,
laughter,
someone falling to the floor “dead,”
someone instantly resurrecting.
And in the end
Nate raises his hands,
surrenders.
Hands cupped like a megaphone:
— We’re going!
Pause.
Everyone freezes.
— To the toy store.
— WHAAAAAT?!
My eyes went wide.
— Hey!
I wanna go toooo!
The kids exploded into shrieks.
Happiness rolled through the room.
I,
in my pajamas,
ran upstairs.
Nate immediately
caught me on the stairs.
— Darling,
let the kids run ahead.
— Of course.
And that’s when I realized…
There weren’t
just seven kids.
And that
was the beginning
of the next
chaos.
The whole kindergarten crew
went with us
to the toy store.
All of them.
Every single one.
I bloomed.
For real.
God,
how amazing it is
to misbehave
and break the rules.
They were just living their lives,
living,
and suddenly —
out of nowhere —
the adults
grab everyone
and drive them
to a toy store.
Just because
they can.
Just because
it’s morning.
Just because
it’s life.
I turned
and kissed Nate all over.
— Darling,
you’re the best
in the world.
He shrugged,
calmly,
as if we were talking
about the weather.
Like:
it is what it is.
— You idiot… —
I laughed.
He kissed me long
and slow.
Oh my gooood…
— Naaate…
He smiled
the way only he can,
and gently led me after him —
with a palm,
a movement,
no words.
I didn’t even try
to resist.
How could an earthly woman ever say no to him?