“I love when you talk dirty to me,” I tell her.
Melody makes her way over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist, her hands slide down my backside. “Oh yeah? Wait until I tell you about the color of the current mash in the vessel.”
I jerk my head back. “Okay, too much,” I say with laughter.
She smiles up at me, and I lean down to share in her happiness, selfishly wanting all of her smiles on my lips.
“Ew!” We hear from outside the door. “Please stop. I need to leave in ten minutes.” Parker was my biggest cheerleader when it came to bringing Melody into our lives. I wanted to be cautious and slow with the way our relationship fell together during Harold’s passing, but Parker saw life a little differently. She continuously reminded me that Melody needed us, and we could bring her some happiness. It was always a “we.” Parker was looking at engagement rings before I was. It’s almost as if Parker chose Melody just as much as Melody and I chose each other.
Parker has only recently taken up an early tween attitude of making sure there is no visual affection happening in front of her. Naturally, we do it just to push her buttons, but she isn’t quiet about her feelings on the subject.
“I’m getting into the shower. I’ll see you at the shop,” Melody says, pressing up on her toes to give me one last kiss before I have to throw some clothes on to take Parker to school. I’ll shower after, then head down to the shop.
When I walk out of the bedroom, I hear Parker talking to Melody. “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Come on; you know you want to tell me.”
“Hey,” I call out to Parker. “What’s going on.”
“I want to know what the secret is.”
“There’s no secret.” I’m lying, and Parker knows it. I can’t lie to her.
“Later,” Melody tells her. “You’re going to be late for school.”
Parker grunts and throws her arms around Melody. “Fine. Love you, have a good day,” she mutters.
“You too, Park. Love you!” Melody says, closing herself into the bathroom. She gets to walk away from the conversation, but I’m standing here with a set of eyes staring me down.
“Tell me,” she says.
“You don’t scare me, princess. Sorry.”
Parker narrows her eyes a little more and takes a step closer. “Oh, yeah?”
God, she looks like Abby, right down to the way she scrunches her nose. “Yeah.”
In any case, I’ll take the good with the bad at this age. She’s able to get herself ready for school in the morning. She gave up the tutu obsession just over a year ago, so as long as she has an array of neon-colored leggings and ten pairs of shoes to choose from, she’s happy. I just have to check her backpack to make sure she has her homework and the right shoes on her feet for whatever special class she has today.
By the time I get into the truck, Parker is settled with her book out on her lap. “How’s Harry Potter?” I ask, peeking in the rearview mirror before backing out of the driveway.
“How's your secret?” she responds.
“Parker.”
“Dad.” The conversation ends, and if I knew what the next one would consist of; I would have happily teased her with the secret I’m not sharing just yet. “Why did you attack that man last night?”
How can I answer her? My brain tricked me.
“I don’t think I have a good answer to your question, Park.”
“Did he do something to you?” she continues.
“No.”
“You told me I should always keep my hands to myself,” she says.
I thought she might have understood more than she did last night, but I think she recognizes a look on my face and associates it with the “daytime nightmares” I sometimes have. I’m not sure she understands the reason behind any of it.
“I was confused, and what I did was wrong.”
