I cursed when the doorbell blared, announcing their arrival. Angela had insisted on the ridiculously loud contraption and I’d agreed, at a point when I’d been willing to give her anything she wanted in hopes she’d stay. Sophia came bounding down the stairs, pillow mark creasing her face. “Daddy, did Peter Pan come to see us? It’s just like the movie, when he comes in late at night after everyone’s sleeping.”
“His name is Peter,” I corrected her. “And you’re supposed to be in bed.”
She followed me to the front door. “I was, but then the doorbell rang and it woke me up.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I should have told them to not ring it,” I apologized. Normally, I was good about that.
“So it is Peter Pa—I mean, Peter?” Her little chest puffed out, proud of herself for remembering what I’d just told her.
“Yes honey, Peter and Maria are here.” She squealed with delight as I opened the door. Peter looked stunned when she clamped her arms around his legs, keeping him from stepping into the house. “Sorry, she’s excited you’re here.”
“Awww, looks like you have an admirer,” Maria teased. She crouched down so she was eye-level with Sophia. “What about me, kiddo? I thought I was your favorite person?”
“Yeah, but I’m Tinkerbell and this is Peter Pan and we’re going to be best friends,” Sophia proclaimed. “Plus, he doesn’t have a mommy anymore and that makes him just like me.”
Sophia was oblivious to the emotional bomb she’d just ignited. Tears began streaming down Maria’s face and she excused herself to the bathroom. She babysat Sophia often enough she knew her way around the house, so I gave her some space.
Sophia looked horrified, her little face scrunched up as she looked to me for guidance. I took her in my arms and invited Peter inside. “Squirt, I told you Peter is Maria’s brother, didn’t I?”
“Uh huh.” She rested her head on my shoulder, reaching up to tug at her dark brown curls that were already a tangled mess. It’d be impossible to get the snarls out if I didn’t brush and braid it now.
“Peter, the kitchen’s to your right and the living room is on the left,” I told him as I walked to the base of the stairs. “Help yourself to whatever’s in there. I need to run up to get a brush for this one’s hair.”
“Okay. Do you think I should go check on Maria?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Give her some time alone,” I suggested, biting back the reminder that he’d been gone a long time and she was a little kid when he left. She needed time to get used to having him around again. Except he wasn’t sticking around. As soon as it was possible, I fully expected him to be on a plane back to his real life where he didn’t have to think about anything but himself.
“Daddy, can I stay with Peter? I don’t want him being all alone right now.” Sophia batted her eyes at me and I caved. As soon as I set her on the floor, she took Peter’s hand and led him into the kitchen, where I heard her conning him out of a juice box. More sugar was the last thing she needed, but I stopped myself from telling her it was too late for anything but water when I heard Peter laugh at something she’d said. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard that sound from him, even before everything went wrong.
By the time I got back downstairs, Peter was sitting with his back against the arm of the couch, Sophia in front of him. With nothing but his fingers, he’d managed to work through the tangles. Instead of backing away so I could take over, he held out his hand for the brush and elastic. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Nope, but I want to,” he told me without looking up. “There’s something calming about the rhythm of braiding hair.”
Calming was the last thing I’d call it. For us, me trying to fumble through braiding Sophia’s hair was torture. I was clumsy and half the time made things worse in the process of trying to keep her hair from being a frizzy mess.
“Do you want me to show you how to do it?” he offered. I almost snapped out a retort that I knew how to braid, but shook my head at my stubbornness. Obviously, Peter had far more experience than I did, and it wouldn’t kill me to take him up on his offer. I sat on the floor next to him, and he turned Sophia slightly so I could see what he was doing. His longer fingers glided through her hair with an elegant grace, every gathered hair laying flat as he explained he was braiding loosely because a tighter braid hurt to sleep in. I’d always done the opposite, figuring a loose braid would come out as she tossed around in her sleep.
When he finished, Sophia darted out of the room to see his masterpiece. “Oh Peter, it’s beautiful!” she proclaimed. His cheeks pinked and he bowed his head. “Daddy, can Peter do my hair every morning? He’s way better than you.”
Peter stiffened as he looked to me. What in the hell was that all about? I patted his knee, allowing my hand to linger a moment. It was strange how I’d been so resistant to talking to him earlier, and now, having him in my home felt completely natural. He had been my best friend for two-thirds of our lives and hearing him in pain on the phone earlier had erased the time we’d been apart. Now, if only it vanquished the knowledge I was the reason we stopped talking. I pulled back and swallowed hard. “Honey, he’s going to go home soon and then he won’t be able to drive over here.”
“But until then he could, right?” she bounded back into the room and climbed into Peter’s lap, looking up at him with those manipulative eyes that could probably get her the money out of a bank vault if she batted them at the right teller.
“How about this?” he began, stroking a hand down her arm. I smiled when he leaned forward, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo and strawberry soap. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. I knew how he felt, because I’d cuddle with her the same way when I had a shitty day and instantly relaxed. “Whenever I come to see you and your daddy, I’ll do your hair. Does that sound like a fair deal?”
“Deal.” She turned and kissed him on the cheek before jumping down. Hopefully, all this late-night flitting from place to place would burn off some of the sugar lingering in her system. “I’m going to find Maria and make sure she’s okay. And I need to tell her I’m sorry for forgetting she doesn’t have a mommy, either.”
Sophia was really hung up on the mommy thing tonight. I’d thought she was doing better because she rarely mentioned Angela anymore, but apparently she was putting on a brave face. I made a mental note to talk to her pediatrician and see if he recommended having her talk to a professional. The very last thing I wanted was to fuck her up long term by pretending there wasn’t a problem.
Her exit left me alone with Peter for the first time in almost ten years. I pushed off the floor and settled at the opposite end of the couch from him. We were mirror images of one another now, our backs against the arms of the couch, one knee propped on the cushions, an arm draped over the back. If I leaned forward just a bit, I could fold my fingers around his. We stared at one another, neither knowing how to start the conversation that needed to be had. I wound up taking the safe way of breaking the silence. “You’re good with kids.”
Peter shrugged. “Kids are cool. They don’t expect a lot. They’re easy.”
All true. That was part of why I didn’t begrudge the amount of free time I spent with Sophia. Some parents complained about losing a piece of themselves when they had kids, but with everything that’d gone on in the past year, time with her was a welcome reprieve. She didn’t ask the tough questions I didn’t want to address. “I was surprised is all. Didn’t think you had much experience with kids.”
“Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I live in some kid-free bubble,” Peter sneered, sitting up straighter. Shit. Did he think I was a homophobic asshole like his dad? If he did, that was on me, too. I hadn’t given him any reason to think otherwise. “Sorry, that was stupid of me to say. It’s just that it was a long ass day, and Papa’s making it impossible for me to stay at the house. I look at Maria and want to stick around for her, but then he opens his mouth and I remember why I left.”
“I’m sorry.”
