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“What do you pick?” Monica asks her dad.
“Hmm.” Jimmy makes a dramatic show of putting his finger to his lips as though he’s really thinking hard about it. “It’s a secret, but it’s one your mom will recognize.” He sends a warm smile my way that gives me a fuzzy feeling inside.
Jimmy fiddles with his phone and the song starts. Only a few beats in, I recognize Bruce Springsteen’s "Dancing in the Dark."
“Oh my God, yay!” I dance to the beat the same way he does in the music video.
Monica does her best to mimic me, and Jimmy joins in.
“Your mom loved this song when we were growing up,” he yells to Monica over the music.
It’s true, I did. It was before my time, but something about this song always lifted me up when I was having a hard time. One of the only good things my dad gave me was my love of this song.
We sing and dance along as a group, Jimmy and I singing loudly like a pair of goofballs, and Monica falls to the couch, laughing and pointing at us.
When he takes my hand, drawing me into him, we dance chest to chest, laughing and singing. It's the closest and most intimate we’ve ever been in front of Monica, and it’s one of those moments when I feel as though I'm above the scene. Though I’m present in the moment, I’m also somehow aware that it’s burned in my memory forever.
The last notes of the song sound, and the three of us laugh, panting to catch our breaths.
That was the kind of moment I used to dream about sharing when I was pregnant with Monica. It’s a moment I wasn’t sure I’d ever get.
“What’d you think of that song?” he asks Monica.
“It’s good. Who is it?”
“Bruce Springsteen,” I say. “Every song on that album is pure gold.”
“Oh yes, your mom loved Bruce.”
I lightly smack Jimmy across the chest. “How can you not love the Boss?”
“Oh, I don’t know, how about this?” He mimics Bruce’s dancing in the video.
I laugh. “It was the eighties. That’s what they did back then.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
I roll my eyes and look down at Monica, who’s quietly taking in our banter. “All right, kiddo. Bedtime.”
“I wanna stay up.” The corners of her lips tilt down.
“Sorry, the time has come. Say good night to your dad and I’ll tuck you in.”
She stomps over to Jimmy with a huff and a frown. He picks her up and gives her a kiss on the cheek then whispers something in her ear. I don’t know what he says, but whatever it is makes her giggle and turns her mood around. He sets her down and ruffles her hair.
“Good night, Daddy.”
“Night, sweetie.”
I lead Monica to her bed, where it takes only a couple minutes for her to drift off. After leaving one last kiss on her forehead, I quietly walk out of her room. I shut her door and turn around to find Jimmy waiting for me in the hallway.
Our eyes catch, and he holds out his hand with eyes filled with anticipation.
I meet him halfway. Without a word, he leads me to the master bedroom and closes the door.
If I wanted time to second-guess this decision, I don’t have it, but all the trepidation that occupied my brain today disappears the minute Jimmy’s hands are on me.
His fingers grab the zipper on my shirt, sliding it down and over the valley of my breasts. When he brushes my sweatshirt over my shoulders, it falls to the floor. He steps closer, his fingers digging into my sides before pulling my pants down my legs. I step out of them. Leaving me in my tank top and underwear, he guides to the bed and I crawl under the already drawn sheets, watching while he undresses down to his boxers and climbs in behind me.
