I nod, staring ahead, watching the cars around me. I worry about my dad hunting by himself. And this morning when I told Britt he was off on his own again, she rubbed my back and reminded me how capable he is. I stuff down my worry. “What do you need to know about my secondpoint?”
She clears her throat in an obvious, look-at-me way. I glance quickly over and snap my head back to attention, but I’m grinning. Britt has counted down so that only her middle finger is sticking up in the air. I bat her hand down, but we’relaughing.
“Don’t bejuvenile.”
“All jokes aside, why do you think there would bedrama?”
I check my side mirror and move into the right lane. The GPS has informed me my exit is in twomiles.
“What if something happens betweenus?”
“Is there something betweenyou?”
“No…Yes. I don’t know.” That day, standing there in the foyer of his place, there wassomething. It was so intense, I had to physically removemyself.
“OK, let’s just assume there’s an attraction. Is that such a badthing?”
“We’re in this really awkward situation I thought only happened on daytime television. Adding to the emotion sounds like a bad idea. It’s too much, too soon. Claire needs a mom and a dad. That’s why he asked me to move in. He wants to give that to her. And I, of all people, should know how important that is.” I exit the freeway and come to a red light, signaling a right turn. This conversation is getting heavy. Thank goodness it’s just three more miles to therestaurant.
“Your second point is a front for what you’re really afraidof.”
I sink into my seat, defeated. Britt is right, and we both knowit.
“You’re scared out of your mind to trust Isaac. To let him in to your heart. Which might happen if you move in with him. But if you don’t move in with him? What happens then? Claire doesn’t get to have what you’ve always wished you could give her. The same thing life screwed you outof.”
Britt’s words are spot on. They fall perfectly in line with my truest thoughts and build on my dad’s arguments to give Claire the father she needs. Her words coalesce in my mind and form the decision I always knew I wouldmake.
* * *
Claire fellasleep in my bed tonight, and that’s not something I usually allow her to do. I almost always make her fall asleep in her own bed, fearing the cultivation of a habit of nighttime waking I’ve heard other moms complainabout.
Tonight I needed comfort. Broken arm propped on a pillow, Claire’s little body tucked into my chest, we read book after book until her eyes grew heavy. She closed her eyes, and I closed the book. I held her, listened to her breathe, counted the seconds it took for her chest to fill with air and then decompress. I carried her to bed, situating her so the extra pillow from my bed kept her broken arm at the right angle. I kissed her face and went to double-check the doorlocks.
Lying in bed now, after a shower, I’m waiting for a return text from my dad. I haven’t heard from him all day. Normally not hearing from my dad would have me worried out of my mind, but right now I’m filled with thoughts from my conversation withBritt.
My phone dings. I grab it, assuming it’s my dad. It’sIsaac.
My mom would like to have you and Claire over next weekend. She’s dying to meet her. Andyou.
My eyes stay fixed on the screen. I take a deep breath and respond, then lay back on my pillow. I’ve seen Isaac’s mother once, in that picture in his apartment, but I can’t recall any details. I looked at the whole of the photo, the pretty picture it created, and not the parts. What will she think of me? I’m some girl who appeared out of nowhere, claiming her son is my daughter’sfather.
Panic makes my stomach turn, and I do everything I can to squash it. Isaac’s mom can’t be awful, right? She raised Isaac, and he’s open and loving. That had to come fromsomewhere.
I knew this was coming, but the inevitability doesn’t ease my trepidation. Claire has a whole family she doesn't know. A dad who wants her to live with him. And then there's me, her mother, the person who's supposed to manage it all as if she knows what's best. As if I know how this will all go. How it will allend.
Idon’t.
I’m Alice, falling down the hole. What will I find at thebottom?
* * *
Saturday afternoon.One p.m. That’s the time set by Isaac’s mother. Claire, my dad, and I went on a long walk after breakfast this morning. It helped me clear my head. It allowed Claire the chance to get out some energy. I’m not sure what it did for my dad, but he’s the one who suggestedit.
Claire walked between us, complaining that we couldn’t swing her the way we usually do. “I hate this arm.” She lifted her crooked arm, swathed in blue. At her appointment this week she’d picked a new color for her secondcast.
“Hey,” I say sharply, using my mom voice. “We don’thate.”
“Fine. Ireallydislikeit.”
