Clark Kent
Rod
She tasted incredible.
I mean, I’d known that for a minute now. But man, she did. Her hands in my hair, her voice practically chanting my name.
It’s all I can think of as I watch the dogs run around the yard, teaming up to chase away a poor squirrel or something. Her fingers still tickle the back of my neck. She still whimpers up to the skies. I curse Fridays. They mean I won’t see her again till Monday, and why the hell is that too long for me?
‘Scout! Boo!’ I get down in a crouch. ‘C’mon, boys!’
The dogs bound over and, naturally, two of them deliver enough force to knock me right back onto my ass, leaving dirty paw-prints on my white T-shirt. I burst out laughing when Scout nearly pops me in the jaw. ‘Hey. Hey, that’s enough. Let’s go.’
Eventually, I wrangle the troublemakers back into the house,where Tali’s lying on her stomach, kicking her feet and scribbling away at something on the floor of the living room. She hasn’t let whatever it is be since we got back from karate half an hour ago. I crane my neck to take a peek. She glares up at me with a scathing look that should belong to a grown woman. It’s fully terrifying. ‘Don’t look, Daddy.’
‘Jeez, alright!’ I stumble backwards, whether out of actual fear or mock fear, I’m unsure, and raise my hands in surrender. ‘Not looking. But you gotta come eat at some point, Tals.’
‘O-kay,’ she huffs, but breaks into a smile when she sees the big dish I’m steering over to the dining table: taco casserole, the household favourite. She literally jumps to her feet and comes running on a dime, plopping herself in her chair all civilly. Once I give her a plate and fork, she’s chewing away happily, with a ‘Thank you, Daddy!’ and a request for juice that I immediately turn down with a glass of water and some grumbling about high-fructose corn syrup that has her giggling. I ruffle her hair, and she just gazes up at me with that heart-melting smile of hers.
As I make my plate, my eyes flit over to the drawing she was working on. Two people in very bright pink sunglasses, one taller with a ponytail of black hair, the other shorter and pigtailed. The taller one even holds a big-ass orange tumbler. I’ll be damned.
She’s making it harder to do my Clark Kent–Superman toggling, this kid. It should be so easy. Switch off my Jordan brain in the house. But Tali being absolutely bowled over by this chai-guzzling idol of hers isn’t really making matters any easier. I chuckle as I watch Tali try to slip food under the table to the dogs, whose tails are already wagging in anticipation as they sidle up next to her chair; they know pretty well that she’s goingto serve them some treats along with their dinners. It makes me think about how easily Scout and Boo had warmed up to Jordan, almost immediately. Tali’d love to see that, wouldn’t she?
You idiot. Is it Tali? Or is it you?
Whatever. I’m not here to crack under the pressure of a summer fling. I’ve done this before. Except …
‘What’s all up in your head?’ Bianca prods me in the ribs, the back door slamming shut behind her as she makes her way into the dining room. Tali, nothing if not a sharer, shouts, ‘Aunty Bi! We have taco asshole!’
I almost choke on my taco casserole. ‘That is not a word we use!’ I manage, while Bianca absolutely roars with laughter.
‘But that’s what you called it!’ protests Tali, shaking her head, pigtails bouncing vehemently.
‘Casserole, Talise Veronica Wilson.’ I have to blink to digest this latest development. My kid has my potty-mouth. We knew this, but if we’re calling casserole ‘asshole’, the development must be worse than I thought.
‘Okay, okay.’ Tali points to the casserole dish with gusto. ‘Take some. When will Mimi be here, Aunty?’
‘Oh, honey, this is an Aunty-only vacation. Your cousin is not allowed.’ Bia raises an eyebrow as she grabs a bowl and helps herself to the casserole. ‘Just like your pop needs a Dad-only vacation.’
‘I do not.’
‘You do. Or else you’re going to start greying before you’re thirty.’
‘What’s greying?’ says Tali.
‘When your hair turns grey.’ Bia lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘And Roddy here is well on the way.’
Tali shrieks, dropping her fork on her plate with a loud clank. She covers her eyes, the drama queen, and shouts, ‘NO! Daddy will look so ugly!’
I practically scoff. ‘Tali, that is incredibly mean.’
‘It’s true!’
‘Listen to my niece.’ With a grin, Bia squeezes Tali to her in a little hug. ‘Don’t go grey.’
We wrap up dinner and clean up all together, splitting the chores, before Tali rushes over to snatch up her drawing with a warning glare my way, then a full-one-eighty giggle and a thundering as she runs upstairs to her room.
The dogs, all well and fed, have already made themselves at home on the couches when Bia and I retire to the living room. We end up in respective piles of fluff, Bia’s Scout-shaped pile more enthusiastic for attention than my Boo-shaped one.
