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“Who would I be without my dramatics?” She taps her chin, as if pondering the question, then replies with a grin, “Oh. You.” She holds up the bottle of wine and asks if I want some.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I say with a nod, sliding off the shoes that are too big for me. “Thanks again for watching Ainsley overnight. You need to let me know if it’s too much.”
She pours a glass and hands it to me.
“After my past few fiasco-filled weekends, I need to be tied down. Last month, I met a man who asked if I liked chain mail. I thought he was talking about pen-pal shit, so I was like, ‘Yeah of course.’ He mentioned he dressed up, and I’m wondering if he meant, you know, in bed. Next thing I know, I accidentally have this guy thinking I’m a huge fan of the Renaissance, and I spent the next two days in a corset, making bracelets and chest protectors in a role-playing Renaissance festival upstate. I was surrounded by people saying, ‘Good morrow,’ and, ‘Prithee attend me,’ while trying to get me to play bar wench and join some orgy in the backwoods. Trust me, I needed a girls’ weekend with my favorite four-year-old.”
“You never cease to amaze me.”
“Maybe I should write a book. I’d call itThe Misadventures of Tara Parsons. One woman’s quest to meet a tall, gorgeous, and very funny man who will travel the world with her.” She takes a sip and lets out a sigh. “If only such man existed.”
I lean against the counter. “Still no luck on the dating apps?”
“I had a few pings last night. They probably just wanted a one-night stand, but I’m over that.”
“What about that guy you dated last year?”
“Kent?” She takes another long swig. “Mr. Celibate? No, thank you. I might not want a one-night stand, but there has to be a happy medium. Men don’t understand that sex and intimacy are two different things. Some want only sex without the intimacy while others, like Kent, think kissing and cuddling are enough. It’s a disaster out there, Jillian.”
“That’s why I don’t date.”
“Okay, I said it was a disaster. Not avoidable. Seriously, woman, it must take some resilience to abstain from love as long as you have.”
“That’s because love is stupid.”
“It is. But not everyone has the balls like you to go to a sperm bank to be a single mom before the age of thirty just to avoid the dating scene altogether.”
“Some people have priorities. Being a mom was mine.”
Ainsley’s footsteps patter down the hall, but she doesn’t appear. “Mommy! Cover your eyes.”
Tara’s face lights up. “I forgot to tell you. We went out for a little dinner and shopping spree last night. I couldn’t help myself.”
I close my eyes and smile, wondering what Tara could have bought my little girl that’s such a showstopper.
After a beat, Ainsley’s tiny voice shouts, “Open!”
When I do, I see my sweet, brown-haired cutie grinning up at me in a mermaid costume, equipped with a feather boa that looks like algae.
“You bought her an Ariel costume?” I ask through my tight smile.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
I beam as Ainsley does a twirl. “You are the most gorgeous sea princess I’ve ever seen! What made you want this costume?”
“I sawThe Little Mermaidyesterday. It was raining, so Tara and I watched it, and I loved it! Then, we went out for egg rolls, and she bought me this!” Ainsley does another spin and nearly falls over with how her feet are virtually bound together in the costume.
Tara leans forward. “I couldn’t believe she’d never seenThe Little Mermaidbefore.”
“That’s because we don’t watch movies with misogynistic views of women,” I explain.
“What are you talking about? She had aMoana-themed birthday party last month.”
Ainsley lifts her arm, and I twirl her again as I explain, “Moana’s different. She left her family to bring life back to the island of Tafiti. Ariel left for some hot guy.”
Tara looks up at the ceiling, pressing the wineglass to her chin as she muses, “You’re right. Moana left to save her island. Ariel left for dick.”
“What’s dick?” Ainsley asks, and my eyes practically bulge out of my head.
