April walks to the kitchen counter and grabs Hadley’s plate to show her a different version of the pasta than on the table. Hadley’s version is simpler with no fancy stuff. Just tomato sauce and cheese.
“What’s that?” Hadley investigates the plate.
“Magic pasta for girls who want to wake up tomorrow with special powers.”
“She won’t eat that,” I tell April, because Hadley is a picky eater, and sometimes, I feel to defy me, she avoids eating what I suggest on purpose.
April takes a slow step, as if she is about to walk away. “Fine.” She sighs. “I guess Pickles and I will enjoy our superpowers tomorrow morning alone. I think the magic I added was for making donuts tomorrow, or was it to get your daddy to take you wherever you want to go within a ten-mile radius, I don’t quite remember.” She taps her finger on her chin in contemplation, and I feel an odd sensation as I watch April make an effort with my daughter.
“Anywhere?” Hadley is suddenly invested in the situation again.
April pivots to look back at Hadley. “I mean, I guess if you have like six bites then that will be enough for the magic to kick in.”
“I’m six!”
“Exactly. So…” She offers the plate.
Hadley takes a step forward and then another step. “Three bites.”
“Five bites.”
Damn, these two are in negotiations with one another like it’s habit.
“Fine.” Hadley doesn’t sound thrilled but hops up on a kitchen counter stool, and April smiles proudly as she places the plate in front of Hadley before handing her a fork.
We both watch as Hadley slowly takes a bite, and relief hits me that I don’t need to battle it out for her to eat again today, April did it for me.
April’s gaze and enlightenment from her win shifts to me and her smile fades slightly, possibly because I have a new look on my face of appreciation for how April is putting her distaste for me to the side to put my daughter first.
* * *
After getting Hadley to bed,I walk into the kitchen to find April setting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher. To my surprise, she left me a full plate of food. We didn’t get a chance to eat. After Hadley ate her token bites, I brought her upstairs to get ready for bed. Bedtime is the one thing where things seem to gel between Hadley and me. It just runs smoothly.
“Is this really safe to eat?” I have to ask, as I’m not sure why she is being kind to me.
She gives me a death stare. “Not that you deserve it, but yes.”
I make a point of grabbing a fork and take a bite, fully expecting to spit it out, as I don’t take April for a cook, but the moment the stuffed pasta hits my tastebuds, I’m taken to another world. Garlic, mushroom, and thyme hit my tongue in an explosion.
“Damn,” I nearly moan.
April flashes her eyes in agreement as she throws the kitchen towel to the side.
“Good?” She seems proud.
“No way Hadley would eat this,” I note.
“She didn’t. I made a different version for her. Cheese, and I pureed carrot into the tomato sauce so she will never know she ate a carrot.”
I slowly swallow as I study her and wonder why she put in the effort for my daughter, but all I come up with is, “Thank you.”
She nods once, and we don’t speak any more about it.
“I guess pasta goes against your protein shake regime, but I was never agreeable to your needs.”
“Not exactly true,” I quip, and the air nearly leaves the room when we both take in that I’m referencing our one night together.
Clearing her throat, April walks to the fridge to grab two bottles of beer. “Shall we finish your explanation of your life situation?”
