Rebekah glances at me.
This is the second time Naomi has called me dad in front of her mother. To anyone else it would seem strange, but Rebekah has not been her real mother for a long time. She’s simply the woman who birthed the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Naomi tells her about the new coloring book and the kinds of colored pencils she likes to use because the crayons don’t have a fine enough point.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking my focus from both of them.
June: How is it going?
Cooper: Did Aunt Dixie tell you?
June: Obviously. Is she…
June: I don’t know … stable?
Cooper: It appears that way, but I won’t let Naomi out of my sight
June: She’s not going to hurt her. I know you’re protective, and Bekah is crazy, but not that kind of crazy.
Cooper: I’m aware, but it’s more for Naomi’s sake.
I check on them again and Naomi has Rebekah coloring her own page she gave to her.
Cooper: She didn’t want to let go of me when Rebekah got here
June: Did she recognize her?
Cooper: I don’t think so, though Naomi is the spitting image of her.
June: Yeah, I’m starting to see it more
June: Let me know if you need something. We’re all at the house.
Cooper: The whole family?
June: Duh. We’re all worried about both of you and ready to jump in if necessary. This is an all family on deck kind of situation.
June: But quick question, do your parents know?
I sigh and go sit in the chair next to the couch while they color and talk.
Cooper: No, I thought about calling them, but I don’t want to get their hopes up. If things go well for a little bit, then I’ll tell them. But not before then.
June: Fair enough. We’re here for you and Naomi. Always have been, always will be.
Cooper: I know, thank you
June sends a heart emoji, and I set my phone down.
Naomi is finally warming up to Rebekah.
Trying to stay present, but also give them space, I flip the TV on and find the PBR. It’s not football season, but the rodeos across the country are in full swing. I find the right channel and watch cowboys ride nasty bulls for eight seconds.
Every five seconds, I check on Naomi.
“Do you want to see my room? It’s pink, and I have my own pink fishing pole hanging on the wall. Do you want to see my boots too? I have a pink sparkly pair, and a brown pair with pink on it.”
“I’d love to,” Rebekah says.
