Claire stands, and we work together to get her ready for bed. When we emerge from the bathroom Isaac is already there, waiting against the wall beside her bedroom door. I sit on the end of her bed while Isaac reads to her and situates her arm. We both say good-night and step out of her room, pulling the doorshut.
He looks at me, face serene. “I know it’s only been a month and a half since her break, but it feels like I’ve been waiting a long time forher.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I smile. As we stand there, the awkwardness creeps back in until I finally think of something to say. “I’m going to bed too. It’s been a busyday.”
Isaac’s expression goes from serene to sad. He looks like he wants to say something, maybe tell me how lame I am for a twenty-something, but all that comes out is, “OK.”
Before the confusing energy between us can tidal-wave me to the ground again, I make my escape with a lousygood-night.
I’m in the safety of my new room when my phone chirps from thedresser.
Britt: Have a nice night. Hope things are going well foryou.
I’m typing my response when another text comesin.
Isaac: Thank you for agreeing to move in here. I know it’s not ideal for you, but knowing that tonight I’m going to sleep under the same roof as my daughter means everything tome.
My fingers move an inch above the keys as I contemplate what to say. After a moment, I settle on aresponse.
Me: It’s best for Claire, and she’s whatmatters.
I bite my lip and turn, my gaze caught by the gorgeous blue comforter he chose. The energy hits me, and he’s not even here. I’m picturing Isaac in a store, standing in front of all the bedding, trying to find a comforter he hopes I’lllike.
I feel cared for, and it’s unsettling. I don’t know how to handle the feeling. I want to grab it and push it away, but I also want to curl up with it, right onto the soft blue fabric covering mybed.
When I go to bed after responding to Britt, I battle warringemotions.
Isaac is the daylight, a rising sun, shooing away the pestering ghosts. Claire’s questions invite the ghosts to peer over my shoulder and remind me with their wispy presence that they’re stillaround.
Oddly, both make me feel the sameway.
Terrified.
* * *
Islept betterthan I have in months, and I refuse to admit it had anything to do with the comforter I was wrappedin.
Before I walk out of my room, I listen at the door. I want to know what I’m getting myself into. When a few seconds of sleuthing yields no sound, I ventureout.
And right into Isaac as he’s walking past my room. His chest isn’t a terrible place for my cheek to land. It’s soft. And it smells good. All in all, there are worse places tobe.
“Sorry,” I whisper, pushing away fromhim.
“Come here.” He takes my hand, leading me quietly past Claire’s room. He pulls me into the kitchen. “I have something foryou.”
“Oh, yeah?” I settle onto a barstool and lean my elbows on the island. “I hope it’s apony.”
Suppressed laughter makes Isaac’s shoulders bob, but he keeps his back turned, preparing the coffee. After a moment I hear the sound of liquid streaming from the complicated looking machine. “Unfortunately the store was fresh out of ponies.” He turns, carrying a mug in his hand. “But, they did have this.” He rounds the island and sets the cup in front ofme.
I lift it, tilting it slightly to read thewords.
I can’t help my laugh.I Mom So Hardthe mug announces in big block letters. I laugh again, but I like it. The recognition feelsnice.
Isaac’s at the machine, making a cup for himself. “I thought you might like to have your own coffee cup here.” He comes to sit besideme.
“Yours doesn’t say anything.” I point to his plain whitecup.
He brings it to his lips, nodding. “Maybe you can help me pick one out. What should minesay?”
