Thirty-three
Corey
It’s Friday night, and this weekend is Nash’s last weekend before he goes back to work. His parental leave has been so critical in establishing his relationship with Nancy, but now I can see he has itchy feet and is ready to get back to it.
His time off has been worth it, though. Ever since that night the other week when he asked me to go over to read Nancy a bedtime story, they’ve been stronger than ever. I don’t know exactly what he said to her, other than trying to explain all the different types of love, while reassuring her of the very special place she holds in his heart. But I will remember the conversation we had before I read to her for therest of my life.
“Hi, poppet,” I said, carefully opening her door in case she drifted off. She hasn’t.
“Hi, Bunny.”
“Your daddy said you wanted me to read you a story tonight?”
“Yes, please. But…” I cock my head at her. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, something clearly on her mind.
“But what?” I ask, as I perch on the edge of her bed.
“Do you love my daddy?” I smile, because I’d been worried she was going to ask me something difficult to answer.
“I do. Very much. Is that OK?”
“Mmhm, I s’pose. Daddy loves you as well. He told me.”
“He did? Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? We love each other very much.”
“Mmhm.” Her bottom lip gets another quick chomp before she continues. “He loves me the most most, but don’t worry ’cause it’s diff’rent. ’K?”
“What d’you mean, sweetheart?”
“Well, you see, Bunny, there’s lots ofdiff’rent types of love.” I smile.
“That’s right, there are.”
“And Daddy loves me the most most because he’s my daddy, and I’m his Nancy, especially ’cause I’m ’dopted.” I’m following, just about, but I’m sure this has more context in her memory of the conversation she’s just had with Nash, so I just go along with it. “But he loves you diff’rent. It’s called mantic love,” she says sagely.
“Do you mean ro-mantic love?” I check.
“That’s what I said. Mantic love,” she says, punctuating it with an eye roll, the sass of which I’m certain only a four-year-old could master. “Anyway, you know it’s my birthday next week?”
“I do,” I hedge.
“Well, I know what I want to ask for.”
“What’s that?”
“For you to love me, too. Like Daddy does.” Her voice is a trembling whisper, insecurity lacing her words. My heart swells for this child. Doesn’t she know?
“Can I tell you a secret, poppet?” She nods at me. I lean down so I can whisper to her. “I already do.”
She snaps her eyes to mine, shock evident onher face.
“Promise?” she asks.
“I promise. I love you lots and lots and lots. In fact, don’t tell Emma or Uncle Rain, but I think you’re probably my best friend.”
She reaches up and pulls me down into a hug. Then she whispers wetly into my ear.
“You’re my best friend, too.”
