Once theclangof her door shutting greets my ears, I stand up and collect myself. I always wait until I know she’s safely inside before making my way home.
Now, I’m able to jog to my place, but five years ago when we started running, I could barely keep up. Switching fromweightlifting to mainly cardio was a struggle. There were times I was tempted to quit, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t abandon my angel to run alone. Not with how lonely she already is. And especially not with so many dangers in the world.
So, I trained. I ran. I trailed behind her, covertly hiding my tracks. She still doesn’t know it’s me. She may see a stranger behind her every so often, but she doesn’t know it’s the same one on every run. A man out there only to watch over her.
I’ve run every half marathon only feet behind her, and she never knew. But it’s not about recognition for me. It’s for her. It’s always for her.
When she started researching marathons, trying to see if she run one, I immediately started using my tech skills for good. I put ads and articles on her phone that encouraged her. It’s a little trick of mine. I tailor every aspect of her online experience for her. I’m her personal algorithm. And now, I need to find the right way to help her with that hamstring pain.
After a warm shower, I sit in the dark of my office, watching her through my televisions. As I work on my Legos on the floor, I allow her sweet voice to fill the room. She works on her puzzle, speaking to it as she always does. And I pretend it’s me she’s talking to, that even though I’m not with her, she wants me to hear her voice.
When my phone rings, I scowl. I begrudgingly mute my sweet girl. When I check to see who’s calling, my mood lightens.
I answer the video call, smiling at the three little girls on the other end. Roman and Cecilia’s triplets are just as rowdy as they are cute. The three-year-olds live to drive their father crazy, which I encourage.
“Hey, Uncle Bash!” Sofia squeals as soon as the call connects. “Guess what? I got an orange circle today. Mrs.Emily said I talked too much. But that’s not fair. Because I like talking!”
“Well, that’s just too bad. Maybe tomorrow you can keep everything you want to say inside and wait until recess?” I offer a sensible solution, but she just rolls her eyes at me.
“No! That’s stupid!” she fusses.
“Sofia, we don’t say ‘stupid,’” my brother scolds his unruly daughter.
In the background, I see a mess of yellow tulle and immediately know who’s playing dress up.
“Is that Isabel back there?” I don’t have a favorite. I swear I don’t. But I click best with Isabel. I understand her.
“Can I please see him?” Isabel asks softly. She’s more timid and quiet, taking after her peaceful mother.
“No!” Sofia stomps her foot, causing her pink dress to ruffle. Isabel sighs softly, and the patter of feet on hardwood echoes through the phone. Within seconds, my very pregnant sister-in-law approaches the camera.
I don’t bother asking where the third triplet, Lucia, is. I can hear her singing about not wanting to brush her teeth in the background.
“Sofia, what did we say about sharing with your sisters?” At Cecilia’s soft reminder, Sofia starts to tear up. She hands the phone to Isabel, then storms down the hallway.
“Uncle Bash,” Isabel hesitates, “guess what I did today?”
“I have no idea. Why don’t you tell me?” I smile at my shy niece, encouraging her to go on.
“I drew Lulu!” She unfolds a piece of paper displaying a not-so-accurate, poorly drawn skink.
“That’s so kind of you.” I work hard not to comment on how it looks. I don’t want to offend her.
“Can I see Lulu?” Isabel’s wide eyes plead with me, and I can’t say no.
Lucia’s singing stops abruptly, and her head, adorned with a purple crown, pops into frame. “Ooh yes, please. Can you show us her?”
Unable to deny them, I abandon my angel to go downstairs. As I enter my warm-lit den, the perfect environment for reptiles, the girls keep talking about lizards.
When I show them my five-lined skink, Isabel and Lucia coo.
“I don’t like Lulu. Lizards are gross,” Sofia whines. Lucia elbows her, but I just chuckle.
“That’s okay, Sofia. I used to not like lizards either.”
“Why not?” Sofia inquires, pushing her hair behind her ears.
I hesitate before answering, not sure how to make it sound child-friendly. I settle on a logical response.
