“How did she respond?”
“She asked whether the kiss was acting.”
I closed my eyes.
“What did you say?”
“That she should ask you.”
“Why?”
“Parenting is about delegation.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I’m excellent.”
Lola appeared in the kitchen holding an ankylosaurus.
“Was the kiss acting?”
There it was. Gloria smiled. Coward. I crouched so Lola and I were eye level.
“The kiss happened because Amy and I are pretending to be girlfriends for the competition.”
“That did not answer.”
She had spent too much time around Gloria.
“It was a real kiss,” I said. “But the reason we kissed was part of the acting.”
Lola frowned.
“If it was real, then you weren’t pretending.”
“Sometimes actors really do something while pretending a story.”
“Like dancing?”
“Yes.”
“Do actors really get married?”
Lola folded her arms on the table and considered the hierarchy of fictional events with grave concentration.
“Not usually.”
“Do they really die?”
“No.”
“Then kissing is more like dancing than dying.”
I considered.
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
