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“Oh.”
She doesn’t say anything until: “Are you going to get off me or do you plan to crawl into my lap?”
There is no bite in her tone, and I make a small amused huff before moving aside.
However, I drag her with me till she is splayed over my form, her legs entwined with mine, her back to my chest as I hold her to me.
“I didn’t take you for a cuddler,” she says and I sense that she is trying to be normal, trying to hide the lingering fear that still surrounds her.
I can almost smell it.
I don’t say anything to her small jibes, just bury my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of my shampoo before murmuring again, “You’re safe.”
She doesn’t say anything, just grips my arm that is around her waist tighter as if she is trying to burrow herself into me.
It is hours later when I finally pick up Mila from school and the little tyke is tucked into my side as she makes me play Barbie doll dress-up games on my laptop with her that I find my eyes following Eve as she paces the room, her energy relentless.
“Daddy, you’re not playing!” My daughter gives me an insulted look, and I blink.
“Of course I am. Black dress and white shoes.”
Mila looks exasperated. “No! You chose that the last time as well. You have to choose something different.”
“What’s wrong with black?” I feel confused. “It goes with everything.”
“But it’s so boring.”
I stare at my own black t-shirt and then make a small complaining sound. “Eve.”
She looks over at me and shrugs. “I told you not to play that game with her. If it makes you feel better, she thinks I have worse tastes than you.”
Mila suddenly looks towards her as well. “Mama, when is Ron coming home?”
Eve stills, looking uneasy. “He’s staying with Mark. I told you.”
I didn’t know a child could actually deflate till I see my own pull it off with such skill. “Oh.”
Then she brightens. “Can I go play with him?”
Eve fiddles with her phone. “Not yet. But soon.” She glances at the clock. “Right now, however, you need to get your ass to bed.”
“Swear jar,” Mila announces piously and Eve scowls before taking out a five dollar bill from God knows where and looks around for a jar that she hasn’t brought along.
I see the panic on her face before she transforms it into a small smile. “Guess not this time.”
I watch Mila run off and then return seconds later with a small metal pig that jingles.
“You can use this,” she says slyly and Eve shakes her head at her before stuffing the five dollar bill into the gleeful child’s piggy bank.
Once Mila leaves the room, I ask. “What’s wrong?”
Eve’s blunt nails scratch at the cover on the armchair, a nervous gesture. “Ron was supposed to have landed four hours ago. He’s not answering his phone.”
“Did you try Mark?”
She nods with a frown before getting up and starting the pacing again, seemingly intent on burning a hole in my carpet.
“Maybe the flight was delayed,” I suggest.
