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“I think he did with Dan, but I wasn’t around for most of it. Sorry, dear,” he says.
“Dan didn’t want to go into detail…” I say, disappointed.
“What’s ‘detail,’ mommy?” Alissa asks, her blue eyes wide with curiosity.
“It means paying close attention to all the little parts of something, sweet pea.” I caress her hair, and she leans against me like a kitten.
Dad reaches out with a hand to touch my hair as well, and I smile at him, although it’s a sad smile filled with sorrow.
“Why is it so important to know what he said about you, dear?” he asks, the voice of reason. “I thought he was in the past.”
“It’s hard to keep something in the past when it comes back rubbing itself in your face like this.” I sigh.
“Hey, talk to Dan,” Dad shrugs. “He’s the one all excited to have Andrew back.”
My mouth goes into a thin line of resignation, and I just sigh.
“Alright,” I stand. Dad helps me up, not that I need it. “Let’s go see grandma and Carla.”
I take Alissa by the hand, and we follow Dad downstairs. On the way, my little sweet pea surprises me with a question.
“Who’s Andrew, mommy?”
“Um…”
Dad is already at the bottom of the stairs, so I’m left alone to answer her question.
“He’s friends with Uncle Dan, Ali.”
“Is he friends with you too?”
She jumps the last step, despite my frequent protests to her doing that.
“Why do you ask, sweet pea?” I respond, feeling like I’m walking on eggs shells, but very interested in what she has to say.
“Because you looked different when grandpa talked about him,” she says.
This girl is so sensible that I always wonder what she will be like when she grows up. With her talent to read people, she’ll make a good psychologist or police detective.
I look over my shoulder. Carla is setting the table in the dining room while dad circles around mom like a vulture as she brings a big spaghetti dish into our midst.
While they’re busy, I lean down, placing Alissa in front of me and looking her in the eye.
“Can I tell you a secret, sweet pea?” I whisper to her, and she’s already nodding and giggling.
I take a deep breath. “Andrew was a special friend to mom.”
Her eyes look concerned as she looks up at me.
“He’s not anymore?”
She sounds so solemn that for a moment I believe I’m talking to a teenager.
I shake my head, and she lets out an “Oh!” so sadly that it breaks my heart.
“I don’t know if I want to be his friend again, okay?” I tell her, and she nods. “But if Uncle Dan brings him home, you be nice to him.”
Alissa looks so serious and it’s so adorable that I’m divided between tickling her to make her laugh or taking a picture.
