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Her answer brings up even more questions. But I don’t ask any of them. Pumping Isla for information about Leia is wrong. Plus, I don’t want information about the firecracker next door.
I grab the bread from Isla. “I think we have enough butter since you used the entire stick.”
She giggles. “Did not.”
I place two slices of bread in the pan and top them with two slices of cheese each before placing more bread on top.
“Drink?” I ask Isla as I open the refrigerator.
“Water, please. I’m not allowed juice or soda. And milk is gross.” She wrinkles up her nose.
I grab a gallon of milk and wave it at her. “Milk it is.”
She feigns retching. “Yuck.”
“Milk helps you grow.”
“Mom already says I grow faster than a beanpole. She blames my dad. I guess he was tall. I don’t know. I don’t remember him. I saw a picture of him in Mom’s yearbook once, but he was sitting down.”
“Did your dad go to high school with your mom?” I guess I’m not done asking questions about her dad after all.
“I guess. Mom doesn’t talk about him. She gets mad when I ask questions.”
She does? Why? I force those thoughts away. I don’t want to know.
“Go sit at the table.”
Isla doesn’t stop chattering away the entire time we eat our dinner. I’m surprised she manages to eat her sandwich.
When we finish, she picks up her plate without me asking and takes it to the sink with her glass.
“What now?”
I shrug. I don’t exactly have any children’s games in the house.
“We can play cards,” she suggests.
“What game?” I ask as I assume she doesn’t mean poker. The band plays a ton of poker when we’re bored on the road.
“Snap!”
“What’s snap?” I ask although I know the game.
“Don’t worry.” She pats my arm. “It’s easy. I’ll explain.”
I dig around in the kitchen drawers until I find a deck of cards.
“I’m going to win!” Isla squeals. She can win all she wants if her winning makes her this happy. Seeing her happy makes me happy.
“Cheat,” I say fifteen minutes later when she has almost the entire deck on her pile.
“Don’t be a sore loser. Mom says sore losers don’t get dessert. Do you want dessert?”
I grin as I stand. What a little conniver. “I have cookies.”
I find the package of chocolate chip cookies and bring them to the living room. Isla grabs the television remote control.
“Mom says too much television rots the brain, but I’m allowed an hour of TV before I go to bed.” She widens her eyes at me. “Do you want to watch TV?”
