“So, who are you?” she asks. Direct. Authoritative. Dare I say, protective?
“I’m Dexter,” I say, not sure how Alis will feel about me talking to the child.
“Well, duh,” she gives me an exasperated look. “I already knewthat. You told me your name at the door.” The girl has a lot of attitude for her age.
“How do you know Monty? And why are you here? I’ve never met you before.”
Ah, so Monty must be what she calls Alis. That’s a strange nickname. Thank God it’s not the Hulk I imagined.
I chuckle out my relief. “I work with … Monty? At Middle Peak. She’s a friend and since she’s been out for the last few days I wanted to check and make sure she was alright.”
The girl nods and pulls her knees up to her chest. “She’s never mentioned you.”Way to boost my ego there, kid.
“Ah, well, I haven’t heard about you either. What’s your name?”
“Sunny. I’m nine years old but I’ll be ten soon. Monty says when I turn ten I can finally get my own TV in my room so I don’t have to fight with Skye about what to watch anymore. She likes the Kardashians, but I like Say Yes to the Dress better. The Kardashians are really annoying and their butts are too big. How do they even fit in chairs? It doesn’t make sense.”
This kid is not shy, that’s for sure. She continues to ramble and I sit and listen, not quite understanding all her references to various reality TV programs. I’m lost in a flurry of Randy, slore, lace, Bible, and bridesmaids when Alis appears in the living area, two mugs of tea in hand.
“Sunny, you do know that Dexter has no idea what you’re talking about, right?” Alis hands me a mug and I nod in thanks. She sits at the other end of the couch, nearest the hallway and kitchen, and Sunny rolls her eyes.
“I was just telling him about when Randy talked that crazy lady out of wearing a black wedding dress just because she wanted to be different. Seriously, who wears a black wedding dress?! That’s just ridiculous.” I laugh at her blatant disregard for Alis’s attempt to change conversation topics.
“Who indeed,” I reply, smiling at Sunny before taking a sip from the mug.
“Sorry,” Alis says to me. “She watches way too much reality TVfor her own good. I’ve tried to steer her more toward books, but she’s one of those ‘rather watch the movie’ people. I don’t even know how we’re related.”
Related. So, this is her daughter? Maybe? Sister? I have so many questions but I don’t know where to begin. I also suspect Alis will close up as soon as I ask anything probing. I’m insanely curious, and also so completely confused right now.
I decide to avoid personal questions and direct my attention back to Sunny. “You’d rather watch the movie? But the book is always better!”
Sunny scoffs. “Gah, you sound just like Monty. ‘You need to read a book. Movies are worse than cliff notes. They never get it right.’ blah, blah, blah.”
Gotta hand it to her, this kid’s Alis impression is pretty spot on. She’s hilarious. And she tells it like she sees it. I am smitten.
“She’s right, you know.” Just as Sunny goes to roll her eyes again, Alis touches my arm and exclaims, “Finally! Someone in this house sees things my way instead of constantly succumbing to Skye’s influence!”
Alis touched me. The contact was brief, yet intentional — a gentle, voluntary squeeze on my arm. That's not something you do to a colleague, is it? Arm squeezes are for friends. She’s never engaged in such casual contact with me — at least, not since our reintroduction in my office months ago.
“Skye?” I ask. Before Alis can answer, the front door opens, and in walks a short, curvy, pixie-looking woman with bright purple hair. She’s wearing rolled-up overalls with a red and white striped t-shirt underneath and combat boots. She drops her keys into the bowl on the entryway table as she steps on the heel of her boot and wiggles a foot out before tossing it into the basket underneath the table.
“You’re not going to believe what that asshat suit said to me this morning. I swear he’s infuriating!” She huffs and turns to face us. Stopping in her tracks, a huge grin spreads across her face. “My, my, if it isn’t Sexy Dexy!”
I nearly spit out my tea just as Alis buries her face into her hands.
“I’m sorry, what?” I’m trying not to laugh, to no avail, becausejust as Alis groans into her hand, Sunny jumps up and yells, “THIS is Sexy Dexy?! Ohmygosh. I didn’t know you still talk to him?! Why am I just now meeting him?!”
Alis pulls her hand away from her face and gives Sunny a stunned expression through beet-red cheeks. “How do you know who Sexy Dexy is in the first place?”
She doesn’t realize her slip-up — she referred to me as Sexy Dexy. That’s all the confirmation I need. I am not just a colleague.
“I mean, Dexter. Dr. Belanger. Whatever.” She corrects herself. She wouldn’t have tried to save face by correcting herself if she wasn’t talking about me, right?
Sunny looks at the purple-haired woman and says, “Skye was talking about him with Tori in the car one day! She said you needed to stop being such a prude and date the guy.”
If Alis’s eyes could pop out of her head, they’d be rolling on the floor right now. “WHAT?!” Alis looks at — Skye? I’m guessing — and her friend bats her hand like Alis is overreacting.
“Psh. Don’t act surprised. It’s not like I keep anything from Tori. You know this.”
