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“I gotta get back to work before the boss fires me,” Paul laughs and throws three ten-dollar bills on the table.
“Youarethe boss.” I remind him.
“I know—ain’t that shit crazy?”
After an afternoon of shopping for other people’s food, I return to Noah’s house with Maggie and Rainey. We’re all surprised to find Noah napping on the couch. I double-check the time on the kitchen microwave. It’s not even 4 p.m.. She hasn’t been home from work before 6 p.m. since I moved in. The girls’ movement stirs Noah, and she leans up on one elbow to get her bearings.
“Hey,” she whispers in a husky voice.
“Hey. Not used to you being home this early.” There’s a peakedness around her eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Y-yeah.” A small cough escapes her lips and confirms my suspicions.
“Maggie. Rainey. Can you go upstairs and change out of your school clothes?” Both girls race upstairs, giving me a chance to check on Noah.
“You’re sick,” I accuse, walking to her.
She covers her face with both hands and I hear her say, “Maybe a little?” Her words unleash another coughing fit. “I never get sick. I couldn’t tell you the last time I was sick,” she complains.
I stifle a laugh and she shoots me a dirty look, not impressed I’m making light of her illness. “You’ve never had a kid in school before. They carry home every damn sniffle, cough, or bug anyone in their class brings to school.”
“Ughhhh,” she moans.
“I’m going to the store to get whatever you need. Text me a list and lay back down. The girls are coming with me.”
“Oh, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Text me your list,” I say, making my way upstairs to round up my daughter and Rainey.
There’s a throw blanket hanging off one of Noah’s accent chairs, and I toss it over her before we leave.
In the store, my phone dings with Noah’s list. She’s only asked for cold medicine, cough drops, and orange juice. I can do better than that, and thanks to a great week of food and grocery deliveries I can afford to. The girls and I whip down aisle after aisle, with Maggie on my tail and Rainey next to her, hand in hand.
I get stuck on what orange juice to buy. Pulp? No pulp? I don’t know which one Noah likes, and I don’t want to wake her with a text in case she’s been able to fall back asleep. Neither bottle looks familiar to Rainey. Unsure, I put both jugs in the cart.
On our way to check out, I see an end-cap display of the coffee Noah keeps in the kitchen and grab a bag. At the last minute, I toss several candy bars onto the conveyor belt because I’ve always believed chocolate cures a list of ailments.
I’m surprised to see Noah awake, curled into the corner of the couch, when we arrive back home. It’s obvious she’s been crying. I take each girl’s bags and sit them on the kitchen island.
“Maggie? Rainey? What do you ladies think about a movie night with Noah and I?”
“YES!” they answer in unison.
“Go change into pajamas while I put away groceries and heat dinner.”
Rainey takes the steps two at a time, but Maggie hangs back in the kitchen with me. I grab the orange juice containers and walk them over to the refrigerator, noticing Maggie’s only a step behind the whole way. After sitting them inside the refrigerator, I squat down next to my daughter.
“Everything okay?”
“Yup.”
“Did you want to get changed into PJs so we can start a movie?”
“Yeah, I’m going to. I just wanted to say thanks, Dad.”
I look into her brown eyes, seeing my own reflected, and feel thankful, too. Thankful for the quiet, but assured peacefulness of this exact moment with my daughter, reminding me I’m not failing as her dad.
“For what?”
