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She contemplates her answer for a few moments before she replies. “No, not really. It’s just different. A little scary considering I’ve never really been around kids. None of my sisters have babies yet so my experience with them is limited.”
“She’s five which is much easier than if she were an infant or toddler. Do you want kids someday?” I ask innocently.
That’s when I see the storm cloud sweep into her eyes. Those bright green orbs turn dark and somewhat dangerous. She sucks in a big breath of air and blinks rapidly. Her reaction to a seemingly innocent question catches my attention and makes me wonder. It happens quickly, the play of emotions across her face, but just as rapidly, Payton pushes it away and offers me a small smile.
Before I can ask her more, my daughter comes running up to the booth. “I almost beated the game, Daddy!”
“Beat the game, and I’m glad, pumpkin. The breadsticks should be here soon. Why don’t you sit down and have a drink of milk while we wait.”
She climbs up onto my bench of the booth and instantly starts grabbing her fork and plate and pushing them across the table. When she picks up her paper placemat and jumps down off the bench, I make a grab for her before she can take off across the restaurant. But she doesn’t run away. She walks over to the bench across from me–the one where Payton sits–and climbs up.
“Do you want me to draw you a picture of a cat? I’m really good. You can take it home and hang it on your fridge. Do you have a fridge?”
“I do have one,” Payton replies with a smile. “I would love to take it home and hang it there.”
“My cat is a good cat, though. Not a crazy one like your sister’s.” She doesn’t even look up, just gets to work outlining her cat with one of the black crayons in the bin on our table. Her tongue sticks out just the slightest bit as she concentrates on coloring in her masterpiece.
Payton and I both watch, me for the hundredth time and her for the first. Bri could sit around and color or draw for hours upon hours a day if you’d let her. During the weekends, we come up with lots of little craft and coloring projects to do. It sure beats the hell out of video games.
“I’m dunna take swimming lessons this summer,” Bri adds while drawing whiskers onto the feline.
“You are? Are you going to the public pool?” Payton asks, watching every stroke Bri makes on the paper.
“Yep! I’m dunna swim like a fishy!”
My heart starts to race as Payton smiles affectionately down at my daughter. I never thought I’d be introducing my child to a woman I’m seeing, at least not until after a very significant amount of time dating, but here we are, right smack dab in the middle of another situation where I had to make a choice. But this one felt right. If it were any other woman, she wouldn’t be sitting at the table with us. I wouldn’t have introduced them to each other yet, if ever. Not until it got serious.
But this feels serious to me.
“They offer swim lessons at the public pool during the summer, and I want to sign her up. She’s too young for the public lessons, but the head lifeguard was a classmate of mine and she’s agreed to do some private lessons.”
“That’s good. You’re never too young to learn. Especially since we live along the water.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I say, relieved that she gets it. I want to give my child every opportunity I can to protect and better herself, and if signing her up for swimming lessons so that she’s comfortable in the water and I’m comfortable for her to be around it will help that, then I’m all for it.
Our breadsticks arrive a few minutes later. Breaking one in half, I set it on Bri’s plate with a glob of warm marinara. She digs in, shoveling it into her mouth, which has me telling her to slow down and take smaller bites. I’m pretty sure she mumbles an apology, but I can’t hear it because her mouth is full.
When the pizza arrives, steam rolls off the top and the cheese strings from the pan to our plates as I dish it up. I don’t even have a chance to cut Bri’s pizza into small bites. While I’m dishing out a slice on everyone’s place, Payton instantly starts to cut up her piece into manageable chunks and blows on it to help it cool. I’m struck by the sheer ease and how natural it is for her to do that.
Dinner is enjoyable. Bri keeps us entertained with stories from school and some from our time at home. She’s so comfortable with Payton that it makes my heart lurch in my chest and slam against my ribs. This crazy reaction to exchanges between my daughter and the woman I’m seeing is odd, but not scary. It just feels right.
I clean up the plates and stack them in the middle of the empty pizza pan. Bri is anxious to get back over and spend her last two quarters on a game of Pinball. “Payton, will you come play with me?” Bri asks, making my air lodge in my throat and my heart stop beating.
Payton glances up at me before answering, “I’d love to.”
Before they can slip out of the booth, a shadow falls over our table. “Payters, I thought that was you.”
“Grandma,” Payton stutters, clearly surprised to see the older woman at our table.
“I ran inside to grab a pizza for supper when I glance over and saw you at the table. Who are your dinner companions?” the old woman asks, almost mischievously.
“This is my friend, Dean, and his daughter, Brielle.” I’m pretty sure she choked on air when she stammered out that sentence.
“Brielle. What a beautiful name for such a gorgeous little girl.”
“Tank you. I’m five.”
“What a fun age. Are you going over to play some games?” the woman asks, nodding towards the remaining quarters on the table.
