I feel him shrug behind me. “We do okay.”
“Why don’t you own an entire townhouse in Fort Greene or something?”
He walks towards the kitchen. “We moved here before Frankie started school, because I eventually wanted her to go to Oliver’s school, and this apartment was in the zone. I also wanted her to have family close by—it’s important for her to form strong relationships with my aunt and uncle. Ollie used to live in the neighborhood, too, before he bought the place with Georgia. This apartment opened up, and it was easy enough for us to slide in.” He opens a cabinet. “Wine?”
I nod. “But he’s not at the school anymore,” I say. “You could’ve bought the entire place next door. Or moved to a district with a better elementary school. I mean—” I roll my eyes, “PS 2 is obviously the best in Brooklyn and extremely high performing, but it’s no Upper East Side or anything.”
He hands me a glass of a cloudy red. “Frankie had already made friends in the neighborhood by the time Ollie left. Then she started Pre-K, and I’m not going to take her out of PS 2 now that she’s had a full year of it. I could buy a place in the zone, I guess, but you know how busy I am. I don’t even have time to get a haircut, much less peruse real estate. Anyway, it’s nice to have Tita Gloria and Tito Ben downstairs.”
I roll this around in my mouth. Dom’s deliberate decision making, everything he does for his daughter. He drags me by the hand to the couch, pulls my feet into his lap.
“I think I’ve said this a million times, but I can’t believe how good of a dad you are. In fact, when we were at the bar, I couldn’t stop thinking about how involved so many dads were,” I say, finally confessing the thoughts that have been in my head since earlier.
He notices the change in atmosphere immediately. I watch him coat himself in tact. “You’ve talked about your mom before. Is your dad around?” he asks gently.
I laugh, but it’s without humor. “He’s dead now. But around? He was, sometimes. Present? Never.”
He squeezes my foot, digging his thumb into my arch, giving me space.
“He was just kind of a deadbeat. Was in and out of the house. I don’t think he ever had a real job. Mai did everything for him. She was a secretary at a local school for most of her life, and then she would come home and take care of the two of us. I would always try to help her out, but he didn’t do shit. And that’s when he was around. When he wasn’t, it was actually way better. Only meals and laundry and dishes for two, instead of three.”
“Your mom sounds like Super Woman.”
“She is. She did everything for me. I’m trying to pay her back by taking care of her now, like she’s always done for me. She fucking hates it though,” I chuckle. “But I kind of grew up thinking all dads were shit. I’m pretty sure mine didn’t even know my birthday. Men, in general. Need to be taken care of, babied, because that’s just what they’re like. It’s led to some pretty sorry relationships.”
He nods, continuing his foot massage on the other foot. “Your ex, right?”
“My exes have all been some level of immature, but he was the worst. I wasn’t kidding when I said I gave too much of myself to him. I lost who I was. I was happy to do it, too, because I was so good at it, which is the really pathetic part. I just thought that was what I was supposed to do. What I’ve grown up seeing done.”
“I’m here to help you take yourself back. In whatever way you may need,” he says, which is arguably the single most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me in my life.
“I actually think we both need to learn some balance. How to let go. How to delegate. How to care forourselves,as people independent from others. I don’t want to be another thing you need to worry about, and I want to learn to figure this all out on my own, anyway. I’m sure you feel the same way.”
He looks up towards the ceiling in that way that he does. “I think I feel the same way. Although, I legitimately can’t see myself as a person independent from others, because of my daughter. But I agree that I can start becoming more comfortable sharing responsibility for her. Letting go. But as far as you and me… it seems a little unfair, like the scales are tipped in our favor, because I have a Frankie on my side. You need to add a whole-ass kid to your plate.”
I think about this. “But it doesn’t seem like she’s taking anything away from me,” I say finally. “She seems like a natural extension.”
Dom’s eyes light up at this, and he looks at me with a fondness that makes me feel a different warm, floaty feeling again. I’ll do it all, dedicate my personal life to this family, add more to my plate. I’ll pile it all up. It doesn’t matter, as long as they are as fucking happy as Dom looks right now.
I feel bubbles rising to the surface, ready to pop. I manage to pop into Dom’s lap, straddling him, but tucking my face in his neck while he envelops me with his wide chest and tentacle arms. I breathe him in, feeling safe, secure, appreciated, taken care of for once in my life, while he kisses my temple, my hair, anywhere he can reach. Content to let me rebuild Real Life Lina, there to hold my hand if I need it.
* * *
The first three weeks of school fly by so quickly that I don’t have time to be stressed. I mean, I’m still stressed and pretty exhausted, but I’m so busy and pleased with my personal life that I barely notice.
It feels as if that conversation with Frankie made it official for me and Dom, because after that, we flow pretty quickly from “dating” into “relationship” on Dom’s texted timeline. I spend every weekend with Dom and Frankie and we go on little adventures, and I try to plan them so we get to do some of the things Dom said he liked to do before Frankie was born. I make everyone pack a backpack with books, and we take them to Prospect Park and spend hours reading in the grass. We go to Brooklyn Museum afterwards. We take Frankie to some of the trendy restaurants that have opened since she’s been born (luckily, many of them are in Fort Greene, but we manage to make it into the city once).
My staff come back and are thrilled by the updates in leadership. We start off the year strong, everyone in a good mood, rather than trudging through that debilitating post-summer slog most educators typically come back to school with (myself included).
Everything is running smoothly. I make Dom give me some Finance and Budgeting 101 lessons, because while I have a grasp on the big ideas, I want to learn some of the nitty-gritty stuff, down to the most minute details. After a few days of this, we finally have enough funds to make some repairs to the school yard. We got our test scores back from the spring, and we crushed it.
I’m doing everything again, which is fine with me, but then Oliver reminds me that I can and should hire an AP, which I honestly forgot about.
“I don’t want to spend the school budget on an AP salary if I can do it all myself,” I reply, scooping rice out of a tray in Mama Flores’s and Ben’s apartment.
“Just because you can do it yourself doesn’t mean you should. You can even hire two,” he says, eyebrows waggling.
I frown. “But you never had two.”
