I imagined grabbing his wrist like in the Kung Fu movies Sammy watched on repeat. When the door opened, I didn’t have time to react to an infant being thrust against my chest. Tiny brown orbs blinked in confusion. The cuteness faded at the smell of something foul enough it’d strip paint from the walls. He… She…Itcooed at me.
“You’re not Fran.” Johnny’s eyes peered over three hairs on the baby’s otherwise bald head. “Here.” The child squealed in delight as I held its sides. Johnny vanished, leaving me more than a little perplexed. Was the kid a peace offering? A sacrifice? A stinky bundle of adorable?
“What is he feeding you?” I mumbled. This was the longest I had ever held a child. I never understood how parents could just hand over their kids. The more I breathed in, the more I’m surprised they didn’t do it more often.
“Victoria,” Johnny’s voice had the familiar crescendo of an irate parent. “How many times have I asked you to change Zoey’s diaper?”
“Zoey, huh?” She grabbed my beard with both hands and gave it a tug. “Chill, girl, we’re not even dating.”
I wandered inside, kicking the door shut. This wasn’t how I imagined our exchange going. I thought there’d be shouting, maybe some thinly veiled threats, maybe even a little scuffle to establish dominance. Instead, Johnny tapped his foot while a teenager ignored him while clicking on her phone. If that wasn’t enough, I’m pretty sure Zoey tried to round second base with me.
“Victoria, are you listening to me?”
While his teenager ignored him, I did a half spin, taking in the living room. The mismatched furniture suggested hand-me-downs, though it was almost impossible to see. A half-shut pizza box sat on the chair, and the coffee table was covered in empty soda cans. The division between clean and dirty laundry was impossible to find, and toys were scattered across the carpet.
The last time I saw him, I wanted to karate chop him in the windpipe and delight in his wheezing. Now that I wasn’t trying to strangle him, I could spot the dark circles under his eyes. His shirt had stains that I prayed hadn’t come from this darling sour princess. I struggled to hold onto the anger.
“Victoria. Please?”
He wore the face of my bully, but they weren’t the same person. Whoever stood before me, I didn’t want to hit him. I wanted to draw him a bubble bath and suggest he have a few hours for some self-care. I didn’t know when I headed here if I’d demand an apology or if I’d offer forgiveness. When I didn’t have the words, I relied on actions.
I held Zoey out as he had done for me. “Careful. She’s a shameless flirt.”
“I’m sorry, I?—”
“Victoria!” I dropped the octave as I barked her name. The neighbors three doors down would have heard. She barely glanced at me before she— I snatched the phone out of her hand.
“Hey, I was talking to— You can’t?—”
“Can’t I?” I made a mental note to buy Mum flowers. I dropped the phone onto the rug, my boot hovering over the glass. “What did your father just ask?”
“You—”
“So, help me…” What was I going to do? Break a teenager’s phone? It’d cost me a small fortune to replace it. She didn’t need to know that. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Fine.” She got up in a huff. When she took Zoey, her nose wrinkled. Whatever waited for her in those diapers would serve as her penance. When she vanished down the hallway, I finally picked up the phone, handing it to Johnny.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
His eyes remained fixed on the screen. I didn’t need to ask to know he was drowning. “She’s not handling her mom leaving…” His eyes shot up as if he suddenly remembered that I had all but body slammed him a couple of days ago. “Thanks.”
The confusion from his mistaking me for the babysitter had worn off, and the air between us had turned awkward. With adaughter who wouldn’t listen and another ready to slay hearts, the urge to ream him had vanished. Instead, it had been replaced with pity… no, it was softer than that. Sympathy.
“I want to bury the hatchet.”
“In my back?” The uneasy chuckle suggested he was only half-joking.
“Thought had crossed my mind.” I didn’t flash a grin. There weren’t punches being thrown, but I wasn’t going to make it as easy as a handshake. “I’m here because of Matt.”
Johnny didn’t interrupt. Smart man.
“Whatever our beef, it’s not his fault. That’s not his problem to inherit.” I wish the rest of Firefly would agree with the sentiment. Instead, it required that we carry the burden of our parents. “I can’t fault you for keeping your kid safe.”
“I—”
“Not done.”
