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“No,” I reply, automatically. “You’re pretty close to where I live.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, and I shrug. “It’s a ten-minute drive.”
Just then, Mila decides to walk in, holding two dolls in her hands. She walks over to me and hands me a doll. “Ariel is asking if you want to have a tea party.”
She looks up at me with her wide blue eyes.
She is so tiny.
A surge of protectiveness rises in me.
This is my daughter.
I can feel Eve’s eyes boring a hole in the side of my head as I gaze down at this child who seems to have inherited more from me than just my looks.
I give a reluctant smile. “Which one’s Ariel?”
Mila blinks at me. “The one with red hair, silly! She’s a princess. She lives in water.”
“A water princess?” I look confused.
“She’s a mermaid!” Mila looks at me as if suddenly realizing that I am stupider than she thought.
“Of course. A mermaid. Why wouldn’t she be a mermaid?” I mutter.
Mila’s hand curls around my much larger one, startling me. “So do you want to come to our tea party?”
I don’t have it in me to say no, so I nod. “Sounds like fun.”
I know how tea parties work so I am not surprised to have a tiara on my head and I sigh, grateful that my friends aren’t here to see me.
My daughter is smart for her age, I learn soon enough. And quite coherent.
Her room is pink and blue, and I can see storybooks placed in a shelf next to her bed and an impressive doll collection.
I play along with her, interacting with her.
She has a witty tongue, and in the half hour that we play together, I realize she is mischievous, and yet, at the same time, has a sweet temperament. She likes to talk, and she tells me about the swear jar that Ron set up for Eve, the annual amusement park trips, the time when she threw a shoe over the kindergarten wall because a boy in her class said that she couldn’t, and then she got his fruit.
As I listen to her babbling about her escapades with childish pride, I feel a warmth grow in my chest.
She is so pure and so untouched by the world that being around her makes me feel lighter, more content, like a breath of fresh air wafting through the darkness that is my life.
I watch her with a small smile on my face as she talks and pours imaginary tea into a tiny teacup.
Maybe having a kid isn’t the worst thing in the world.
4
Eve
Zayn wearing a tiara on his head and offering his plastic teacup to Mila for a refill is the last image I expect to see when I walk in.
His usual arrogant look fades into an uncharacteristic expression of softness and wonder as Mila wraps him around her little finger.
I linger in the doorway for a few seconds, just watching them.
Did I deprive Mila of this?
