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“How about I show you rather than tell you?”
“Okay…”
When I might’ve swooped in, picked her up and tossed her over my shoulder to take her to bed, I resist that urge out of respect for what she’s been through in the past. The last thing I’d ever want to do is scare her. Instead, I stand and give her hand a gentle tug, bringing her to her feet. Then I put my arms around her and lift her, drawing a surprised gasp from her.
“Is this okay?” I ask as I walk toward the apartment’s only bedroom.
She nods and smiles before she kisses me. “It’s okay.”
When her phone rings, she glances back at where she left it. “I’ve got to get that in case it’s the school.”
I put her down, and she goes to get the phone, freezing when she sees the screen.
“Who is it?”
“My mother.”
“Do you want to take it?”
“No.”
“Then don’t. You’re not obligated to talk to her.”
“She hasn’t called me in more than a year.”
“Is it possible she saw the post on Facebook?”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Put the phone down, Sofia, and come here.”
She places the phone on the coffee table and crosses the room to me.
I rest my hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just strange to have her call me.” Her phone chimes with a voicemail message. “That’ll be from her. She’s probably angry that I’m looking for him.”
“Why would she care?”
“She never wanted to talk about it when I’d ask her why she didn’t tell him about me. Once, when she was drinking, she said the stuff about him being a good man and seemed kind of sad, as if she wished that maybe she’d tried harder to see him again. But most of the time when I asked about him, she’d say, ‘He had his life, and I had mine.’ That would be the end of the conversation, except she’d sometimes add that I wasn’t the only kid growing up without a father, and I’d survive. I think all the time about how my life might’ve been different if my dad had been around.”
“He might’ve kept her from being so hard on you.”
“I’d like to think so, but who knows? He might’ve been even worse.”
“I don’t think so, and she probably knew you’d like him better, which was why she kept him away from you.” I continue to massage the tension from her shoulders. “Do you want to listen to her voicemail?”
She shakes her head. “I’d like to go back to what we were going to do before she called.”
I put my arms around her and lift her again. “You mean this?”
Her smile again reminds me of what sunshine looks like when it emerges from behind the clouds. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”
