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“Okay. Let’s get dressed.”
I set Kiyah on the bed and rifled through her dresser, looking for an outfit. “C-can we wear our cuts?”
I paused, closed my eyes, and considered telling my daughter no, but this was what she asked for, and her healing was more important than my comfort. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, baby. We can wear our cuts.”
We dressed in silence, not wanting to wake the Bakers. By the time we were done, we looked like a mother-daughter biker duo outfitted in our family cuts that Rory had made for us with patches. The leather scent brought back memories—good memories. For once, I didn’t have the urge to cry as I remembered vomiting on the back of his bike after we left the county fair. Rory promptly pulled into the nearest self-service gas station and hosed us and the bike off while muttering about never allowing me to have deep-fried marshmallows again. Apparently, deep-fried marshmallows weren’t the issue…it was Kiyah. A week later, we left the doctor’s office stunned and apprehensive. We were young, immature, and reckless, and we had hoped we’d achieve parenthood further down the road. Rory looked at me and sighed, “I guess I have to put a sidecar on the Harley now.” I smiled, and he returned mine with a smirk, and that’s when I knew everything would be all right.
“All right. Let’s go,” I whispered, grabbing Kiyah’s hand. We arrived downstairs without incident and disengaged the alarm. I engaged it before leaving, and Kiyah made a beeline to “Daddy’s Garage,” as she lovingly called it. I smiled when she excitedly jumped up and down outside of the garage door. “We’re not going far, okay?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
* * *
I reclined in the booth at Denny’s and watched Kiyah swirlingthe whipped cream topping on her hot chocolate with a finger.
Not going far, my ass. I don’t know why I played myself like this.
“How is your hot chocolate, Ki?”
“Delicious! You want to try?”
“No, thank you,” I mumbled, reaching for my phone in my pocket.
Jonathan:Where are you guys at?
Kierra:Denny’s. Kiyah had a bad night and wanted to go for a ride. I didn’t want to wake you guys.
I waited anxiously while the three bubbles bounced at the bottom of my screen.
Jonathan:I see. Be safe.
“Mommy?”
“Hmm?” I asked, a little distracted by Jonathan’s text message. I couldn’t tell if he was concerned or angry, probably both.
“Is Mr. Jonathan my new daddy?”
Flag on the motherfucking play.
I took a large gulp from my water before answering her. “No, Kiyah. Mr. Jonathan isn’t your new daddy. He is my employer.”
“Aww,” she sighed with sagging shoulders.
“There’s no reason to be upset, Ki. Mr. Jonathan is a family friend, just like Grant, Casey, and Daisy.”
“B-but I want him to be my daddy. He’s nice like Daddy was.”
Just the thought of dealing with Eliza for the rest of my life is enough for me to give Jonathan a pass. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an absolutely amazing man who checks off all my boxes and then some. Not to mention, I get some undercover freak daddy vibes from him, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Eliza seems…I don’t want to say it, but…the bitch seems prejudice and, at the very least, classist. It makes me wonder if Eliza’s behavior is brand new or if she’s always been like this,and Jonathan purposely ignored it and still decided she was who he wanted for the rest of his life. That doesn’t sit well with me.
“I agree. Mr. Jonathan is nice like Daddy was, but he can be nice and be our friend. Plus, Mommy still loves Daddy very much, and I don’t know when I’ll be ready to be with someone like I was with Daddy.”
Kiyah pouted and kicked her feet underneath the table, grazing my leg several times. She looked away from me deceptively like Rory would when preparing to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. He’d anxiously smoke his cigarette down to the filter, buying himself some time. Finally, blue eyes would land on mine, and he’d practically word-vomit what was bothering him. Kiyah was about to do the same in…
Three…two…one…
“When we’re not with Mr. Jonathan, Grant, Casey, Daisy, Nori, Ms. Simone, and Uncle Ant, it makes me sad—it’s just me and you. That makes me sad.”
Children really know how to fuck you up with their brutal honesty. But I’ll always encourage Kiyah to tell the truth, especially when it’s about her feelings.
