He reaches for her water glass, steady and composed.
“Balance,” he says lightly.
Lucy nods, “Balanced.”
When the server leaves, he pours water for Lucy first. Then me. “But if you prefer…”
I kick him under the table, and he chuckles. “Lucy, the water is carbonated, so it’s fizzy. We have regular too.”
“But,” he picks up her napkin and, with an easy, practiced motion, flicks it with a light snap of his wrist, and the folds loosen, falling open in clean lines. “Cloth napkins pair beautifully with sparkling water.” He turns to me after settling in on her lap. “Don’t you agree?”
“It’s elegant, but a bit theatrical.”
He chuckles.
“What’s theatrical?” Lucy asks.
“It’s la-di-da.” I bat my lashes at her.
“That’s what granny says about you.” She giggles. “I think I’ll like la-di-da.”
Giggling silently, I nod to the glass, “Go ahead, take a little sip.”
We watch as she leans forward and sticks the tip of her tongue in it and jerks back, eyes comically wide, and giggles. “It’s sparkly.”
“That’s why they call it sparkling water,” Lenzin states with a wink.
“It’s la-di-da, water,” she laughs, and yes, so do we.
By the time we finish, Lucy is deliriously happy, tired, and full. She ate all her meal, a healthy third of our shared chocolate torte, and an apple tart.
Pulling out of the garage, it’s dark, and Lenzin asks, “I’d love to see your school choices, Schatz. Shall we drive by?”
She nods as she holds Axel to her cheek, like she does when she’s tired, “What’s Daddy in your funny talk?”
“In German?” He chuckles.
“Uh huh.”
He clears his throat before answeringso, so,softly, “Papa, or papi.”
She yawns, “Okay.”
He drives slowly by each of the two, and it’s dark, so I can’t gauge how he feels by his expression, but I swear it feels tense in this vehicle.
He glances in the mirror at Lucy, opens his mouth to say something, and closes it before he does.
I look back, and she’s asleep. Axel against her cheek and sparkly backpack clutched to her chest.
“Thoughts?” He asks.
“Which direction would you like me to go with that question?” I ask. “Because there are so many.”
“You’re doing quite well riding in the passenger seat and allowing me to drive,” he chuckles. “Well, except for the lack of trust in me about the sparkling over flat.”
“She tolerated it, and then drank two entire cups of normal people water.”
“Am I not normal?” he asks, passing the direction we should be turning.
