Mrs. Neal had lived in the building since it’d been built I suspected. She knew everyone and everything that was going on. When I’d brought Isla home from the hospital completely clueless about what I was supposed to do and how to keep this, living, breathing creature alive, Mrs. Neal was there for me. She showed me how to change a diaper, how to swaddle her, and what a swaddle actually was. Mrs. Neal was as much a part of Isla’s life as I was. These days, the two of them read stories about princesses who went on great adventures and baked cookies together.
Depending on my shifts, Mrs. Neal stepped up and helped me out when I was working. She’d take Isla to school and then pick her up again. She’d bring her home, make sure she got her bath and dinner before tucking her into bed. The number of nights I’d stumbled home after a long, exhausting shift to find her sitting on my couch knitting while my daughter slept soundly, tucked safely in her bed, had me treating her like she was the grandmother Isla never had.
“Oh, I’ve been better,” Mrs. Neal offered gently. “But nothing a cuddle from that gorgeous girl of yours can’t fix.”
Relief almost knocked me on my ass. Had she said she couldn’t take Isla today, I knew I’d spend the better part of the next hour on the phone trying to find someone to cover my shift and that was the last thing I wanted to do this morning.
“She’s just having breakfast now,” I told her as I motioned to Isla to go brush her teeth while I tipped what was left of her soggy cereal out.
“Oh. No troubles at all.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” she attempted to assure me.
“Mrs. Neal …” I pressed. I might’ve treated her like she was Isla’s grandmother, but she treated me like I was her son. I was the one who changed her light globes. I was the one who moved her furniture around and carried her heavy boxes. And I was the one who caught the spider who’d broken loose and was terrorizing her apartment. “How can I help you?”
“You don’t need to help me, Luke. You’re busy enough.”
She had that right. But instead of admitting that, I replied with, “Never too busy to help you.”
“Well then,” she started, and I knew the favor she’d rung for was coming. “I was just wondering on your way home tonight if you wouldn’t mind stopping to grab me some creamer. I’m all out and you can’t have coffee without creamer.”
“I can do you one better,” I promised, opening the fridge door. “I have a brand new one in my fridge. How about I bring that down when I bring Isla, and you can have your morning cup.”
“Oh, I don’t want to put you out …”
“Not at all. I can’t have you waiting all day for a cup of joe. That’s just not right. Besides, I don’t drink the stuff.”
“Dad!” Isla called out and I rolled my eyes. I didn’t mean it, it just kind of happened.
“Coming,” I replied before focusing back on the phone in my hand. “I need to go see what she’s gotten up to this time. But we should be at your place in about five minutes. And I won’t forget your creamer.”
“Thank you, Luke. You’re such a good boy.”
Boy? Boy? There was nothing boyish about me. I was a thirty-two-year-old single dad who struggled to make it through the day without forgetting something. When I wasn’t working, I was having tea parties, playing Barbies, or getting my hair done.
“See you soon,” I promised, ending the call and heading toward Isla’s bedroom wondering what disaster was waiting for me.
Stepping into Isla’s bedroom was like stepping into a warzone. When could this have possibly happened? When I tucked her into bed last night, the floor was spotless. All the books were put away. Her Barbies were back in their bucket and her dressup box, while wasn’t neat and tidy, everything was at least stuffed back in, and the lid closed. Now, everything was on the floor.
“Um, Isla?” I called out for her only to reappear with toothpaste spread across her face and her favorite mermaid shirt so wet it was almost dripping. “What happened?” I asked, rifling through her drawers looking for a new top. Hopefully one that wasn’t going to cause a tantrum, but I didn’t like my chances.
Her bottom lip trembled.
Her eyes went wide.
We were on the verge of category three tears.
Reaching for her, I dragged her toward me and wrapped my arms around her skinny body holding her tight. “It’s okay. It’s just some water,” I assured her, feeling the damp material chilling me. “Besides, mermaids like water,” I tried only for Isla to push me away and look at me like I was talking another language.
“Dad.”
Wow! That sounded like someone much older. How one word could be filled with such sarcasm astounded me.
“We need to get you changed so you don’t catch a cold,” I explained as I started to peel her wet shirt over her head before using it to wipe her face which didn’t look half as bad as it did when she first appeared, probably because it was running down my shoulder.
“But you don’t have a shirt on,” Isla pointed out.
