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‘So, basically chicken breast and sweet potato?’
‘Right.’ She chuckles as I shake my head.
‘Burgers it is.’
I dump the truck at home and we walk to a secret burger joint down a side alley in the city. It’s not actually secret at all because it’s always packed. But I figure it is a cool place to take Izzy, and Cady and I love the burgers.
After shouting our order above the music and chatter, we take a seat in a wooden booth, Izzy and Cady on one side, me on the other. The inside of the place looks like a huge garden shed: wood walls, roof beams, and furniture. Izzy checks out the art decorating the walls: old music and movie posters, handwritten graffiti. She leans her head to the side as she reads two notes by my shoulder.
Mel was here ’13.
Sarah & Mitchel 4ever.
‘You see that Rolling Stones poster up there?’ I ask, pointing. ‘Check out the writing to the left of it, in purple felt pen.’
She finds the words and reads aloud: ‘Cady and Dad 2008.’
‘I drew the stick men,’ Cady says, smiling across the booth at me. Izzy’s lips curve up, but there’s something else about her expression that I can’t read. Something behind her outward smile.
‘That’s pretty awesome,’ she eventually says. ‘So, Cady, are you looking forward to college?’
Cady nods as she slurps her Diet Pepsi through a straw. ‘Sure am. I’m going to NYU but I’m going to be living on campus. I get the best of both worlds. Dad and his wallet when I need him, Mom’s washing and cooking, a place where neither one of them can see me behaving badly.’
Izzy’s giggle turns to a laugh when she spots the scowl I’m throwing Cady.
‘You need to learn a few life lessons, kiddo. Dad’s wallet is paying your fees. You can get a job for the rest.’
She rolls her eyes and waves a hand through the air. She is saved from my addressing that damn attitude by our number being called at the counter.
‘To be continued,’ I say, pointing to her as I leave the booth.
When I come back with our food, Izzy and Cady are talking about Broadway shows: their favorites and which they’ve seen recently. I dish out two mouthwatering cheeseburgers to them, while I try not to outwardly grumble over the plain chicken breast in front of me.
‘I adoreWicked,’ Izzy says, as they unwrap their burgers in unison.
‘Oh, me too. That song. You know, the big one where the witch floats up from the stage?’
‘Defying Gravity!’ they shout together.
As I work my way through my bland meal – which ought to be outlawed in a burger joint this good – I watch my girls.
They both lift the lids of their buns and remove the pickle and tomato slices from the top of their meat, placing them on the side of their burger wrappers. They don’t stop talking as I reach out and take all four pieces of veggie for myself. Other than paying the check, I’m basically superfluous to this lunch.
By the time we leave the restaurant, the rain has started up again. Given we’re so close to my apartment, we decide to make a run for it. We stop to pick up chocolate and ice cream, which I’ll have to watch Cady and Izzy eat later, and somewhere along the way, a decision is made to play Monopoly, then watch a movie.
As much as I hate Monopoly because it usually drags on forever, I enjoy sitting around the living room, the three of us playfully jibing at each other. My enjoyment is helped by the fact I won. Another reason I don’t usually like Monopoly… I always win, which is boring. Today, though, it was a close call.
It’s after seven by the time we decide to wash up and put on lounge clothes for the movie. Unsurprisingly, I have no say in what we watch. Izzy connects her Mac to my flat-screen and Kate Hudson appears on it in some chick flick.
Cady curls her feet beneath her in the lounge-chair. I rest back into the L of the sofa and pull Izzy to sit between my legs. She’s reluctant, I can tell from her rigid body, but she eventually gives in.
Cady offers chocolate to Izzy, which she takes and eats, delighting in my growl against her ear. It pleases me to see how she has become more comfortable with food. Cady pops the lid on a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and dives in.
‘I can’t believe you’re making me watch a chick flick,’ I grumble.
‘Shh,’ both of them say, putting me firmly back in my box.
Around a half hour into the movie, I decide it isn’t so bad. Perhaps it isn’t the movie so much as the company. I rest my chin on Izzy’s hair, breathing in her familiar shampoo, and tighten my arms around her. I watch Cady, focused on the TV, so much so her ice cream drips from her spoon back into the container.
