I don’t know how she did it, but here I am with her booster seat in my car heading to Planet Pancakes. With all that food stocked in the fridge, I thought we could have some yogurt parfaits with granola and the local honey I saw on the counter by the coffee maker, but nope. This little girl is very persuasive. So I park the car and walk over to the other side, opening her door. Taking her hand in mine, we walk inside. The cosmic chime echoes through the semi-packed diner. Odette looks up from the register, smiling at me. Then, when she glances down at the little hand I am holding, her smile widens, and she nods. She steps around the counter.
“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite girls,” she coos, pulling at one of Catalina’s little braids.
Catalina, the ever-vocal little girl, places her hand on her hip. “Mrs. Odette, can we please sit on the soft blue couch?” She points toward the back, where the mural of the planets is located on the back wall. “Can we please, please, please?”
Odette bops her on the tip of her nose playfully. “Well, wasn’t that a mouthful? Of course you can, kiddo.” She grabs two menus and leads us to the back, where Catalina requested to sit. She looks up at me, motioning with her hand that she wants to tell me something, so I lean over slightly.
“My daddy never lets me sit over here,” she attempts to whisper, but it comes out as a hushed shout as she drops her cupped hand from her mouth. She fist pumps the air as she catches up to Odette.
I stand back up. “Oh?” is all I say in question as I follow them, and I can’t think of why that could be. I mean, I know that these seats aren’t the most user-friendly for children, but what is the harm? And then I halt when I see that girl from the park, the one who had her hand down Manuel’s chest in a blatant show of intimidation. The pieces start to click together. Maybe this is where they always sit. Maybe Manuel doesn’t like to sit here because of them.
Determined not to feel unnerved, I sit on the velvety soft couch, and Catalina sits close to me. Odette leaves our menus and walks off, but I know when she returns, it will be with my usual latte. I dohope she knows what Catalina wants. Catalina hops off the couch and returns with a coloring book and crayons. She sits on the floor near the table, her little legs crossed over one another, humming to herself. I feel their eyes on me and try to avert my gaze anywhere except there.
True to form, Odette returns with my maple sugar oat milk latte in a celestial-looking mug, and Catalina has the cosmic delight, which I know to be a combination of fruit juices topped with an orange slice and maraschino cherries. Catalina giggles with delight and claps her hands as Odette places it in front of her, and I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my lips, seeing her sheer delight in something so small. I haven’t felt happy in a while. The innocence of this little girl soothes something deep in my soul. She remains happy despite her parents’ divorce and her mom’s absence. I feel like I could learn a little bit from this youngster.
I bring the hot brew to my lips and take a sip, reveling in the bliss, that is, until I see a pair of purple and hot pink Brooks sneakers in my periphery. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, not wanting to start a conflict with anyone. Taking a slow, steady breath, I place the coffee mug on the table and look up to see the woman from the ball field staring down at me, one hand propped firmly on her hip. She glares at me, and Catalina must sense the awkwardness of her presence because she stops coloring, looking from the woman to me, worry etched on her brow. The woman—I think her name is Sylvie—looks at Catalina with a fake edge of sincerity.
“Cat, is everything okay with this woman? Does your daddy know you’re here with her?” I’m about to respond, but she doesn’t give me a chance, extending her hand to Catalina. “Do you want me to take you to your daddy, Cat?”
I stand ready to fight this woman off, but Catalina looks at her and replies, “No, thank you, Ms. Sylvie. Ms. Nadia is going to take me home after breakfast.” Sylvie just stands there with her mouth open and I watch her try to say something and then stop, until finally she stands taller, pushing her chest out, her boobs lifting higher than they already are.
“But I thought your daddy doesn’t allow anyone over to your house?” she huffs in question. Before I know why I said this, it justcomes out, my finger pointed in the air like Catalina told me the first day when I went over.
“Nope, he doesn’t want Victoria’s stalker mom over.” I laugh, and Catalina drops her crayon, her eyes widening. I hear a cough, and someone gasps behind the woman who has now gone rigid.
“What did you just say?” She tilts her head, and I know I have said something that I wasn’t supposed to because the other two women at the round little bistro table are trying to smother their laughter. One is beet red, choking on a mimosa that went down the wrong way, and the other is handing her a glass of water with her face averted.
I hear ahumph.Then Sylvie turns around abruptly and heads out of the restaurant. We watch her retreat, and Catalina looks at me, her hand covering her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. The chime echoes above the door, and I don’t have to look to know that she is gone.
“What?” I say, looking at Catalina. “What did I say?”
“That’s Victoria’s mom!” She bends over sideways, cackling, clutching her belly. I hear a chair scrape against the wooden flooring and see a woman come up to the table, and I don’t know what to do. I stand, already thinking I will apologize, but before the words, “I’m so sorry,” leave my mouth, I hear laughter from the other woman sitting at the table of three, and she walks over toward us. The woman extends her hand out to me.
“Hi. I am Tessa, Luc’s wife. He works with Manny.” I shake her hand, not understanding the introductions.
When the other woman doesn’t introduce herself, she says, “I just want to say thanks for giving me the best laugh of a lifetime. Sylvie has never been put in her place, and I know you didn’t intend to do exactly that, but she needed to hear it because we have been telling her for a while to lay off.”
The woman looks over to Catalina, who is pretending not to hear, but I can see her taking everything in. The girl may be young, but she doesn’t miss a beat. After they leave, I sit there and hope this doesn’t get back to Manuel. I wonder what he would say if it did.Please don’t let me lose my jobare my last thoughts before my gingerbread pancakes come, and I forget all about Sylvie and my big mouth.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After he got off the phone with his wife, Luc ran over to tell me what happened at the diner this morning. He is crying hysterically with laughter. “I’m telling you guys, my wife said it was epic. She just stomped off and left the restaurant.” He slaps his hand on his thigh, still hooting with laughter at my expense.
I groan. “Oh God, I hope she doesn’t say anything to me about it.” I rub my temples.
“Are you kidding?” Luc throws his arms up in the air briefly before pointing a finger at me. “That girl probably did you a favor. Maybe that woman will finally get it into her head that she is a stage five clinger.”
I shake my head. “I don’t knowwhy. We were never in a relationship. I only made out with her once, and I never even slept with her.” I don’t mention that I might have if I hadn’t gotten that phone call from my mom saying that Catalina threw up. I rushed out of the bar so fast that I didn’t even say goodbye. My daughter did me a solid without realizing it. I thought that that incident was enough for her to leave me alone, and then, realizing how she was, I just avoided her advances after that. I was lonely and feeling sorry for myself at the time. After a drink, it seemed to intensify those emotions, and I vowed to lay off the alcohol. After my ex had her addictions and I saw what she struggled with, one of us had to remain sober for Catalina, and I was more than willing to take up the role. I was never a big drinker anyway, just a beer or two when I went out with the guys. Since I didn’t have help with child care after my divorce and essentially became a single dad overnight, that wasn’t too much of a problem anyway.
I should give her a raise. I have been trying to get that woman to back off for months. Maybe this little slip will do it, and she will take the hint because whatever I have said to her and my actions of ignoring her have not worked thus far.
Enteringthe house seemed quieter now that my mother is gone back home. No one is here to greet me at the door like my mom did when she helped out with my daughter. Once she knew that I had secured a nanny for Catalina, she left that morning. I can’t say that I blame her. She raised her kids and has done more to help me than anyone. My father missed her too much. She does so much for him. She even gets his high blood pressure medication out for him with his meals. She doesn’t have to do that, but she does it because that is who she is. She is a nurturer, and I am lucky that she instilled that same characteristic into me. I also feel the need to take care of everyone, despite how challenging it can be at times. I don’t ever complain. I just do it unless it causes my most precious thing in life—my daughter—distress. I never want to put her through that kind of ordeal again. I pray that my ex gets her shit together for Catalina’s sake as well as her own.
I almost think no one is here, except Nadia’s car is in the driveway. I search my small cape-style home and don’t find anyone.I head upstairs to remove my work clothes when I see them outside. I stare out the window, watching them draw. Set up with little easels, Nadia shows Catalina how to use watercolors. I see purple spots on the easel and assume she is painting the flowers under the tree. I decide to jump in the shower and change while I can. Five minutes later, I’m down the stairs and opening the back door that leads out onto the little stone area I have set up with outdoor furniture and a fire pit. I walk out in my grey sweats, t-shirt, and sliders when they turn around to see me stride over to where they are cleaning brushes and putting their things away.
“Hey.” I look at Nadia and then at my daughter. I stop in my tracks as Nadia gives me a little wave. Dropping to my knees, I open my arms wide. My daughter leaps off her chair and straight into my outstretched arms.
“Papá!” she exclaims excitedly. “I missed you.” I smile and kiss her on her cheek.
