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“And Belle! I love Belle, and she said it’s cool to love books!”
“And then I got a sick feeling?—”
“I want to get a dress the same as Belle?—”
“We had hotdogs!” India got louder to talk over her sister, then leaned into the iPad. “They were yuck!”
“Can I get a Belle dress, Daddy?”
“I’m sure you can, Iris, add it to your Christmas list,” I tried to say over the excitement, and made a quick entry into my notepad. I imagined Paula and Johan would be getting Iris a princess dress, if they hadn’t already, but I could take any inspiration. Maybe, I could build her a bookcase similar to the one out of the movie? Of course, I’d need to watch the movie again, for the hundredth time, and make sketches, but given I love it as much as Iris did, it wasn’t a big issue. “And, India, why didn’t you like the hotdogs?”?”
“Onions,” she moaned and made a yuck face. “Then, I was sick.”
“Oh no, are you okay now?”
India shook her head. “It went in my hair, and Mom had to take me to the bathroom and wash it off.”
Iris wrinkled her nose. “It smelled so bad!”
I chuckled and gave my best sympathetic dad look. “I’m sorry, India; how about you tell me about the rides?”
They chatted on about their fairytale visit, and I asked them all the right questions, but it was Charlie waking up and burbling some nonsensical sound that reminded me he was there, and why it was so vital I talk to the girls today—much to Paula’s irritation, asapparently,they’d had plans.
“Hey, girls, is your mom there?”
Iris frowned—Paula wasn’t usually part of our chats—but India yelled for her mom, and all too soon, my ex-wife was between my daughters, and I had a ready smile. She might have been irritable about me getting in the way of whatever amazing thing Johan had arranged, but she loved me as a friend, and them, and we were solid.
“Paula, hi,” I began, but she was frowning the same as Iris.
“Hi?” Her tone left me certain she was asking me what was wrong at the same time as the hello—never let it be said my ex wasn’t economical with her words, probably due to having to get a word in edgeways with an excitable India and Iris.
“I have some news,” I announced with added drama, and reached over to lift Charlie out of the nest of blankets I’d created for him on the sofa, holding him as if I was Mufasa and he was baby Simba. “Girls, I want you to meet your cousin, Charlie.” Paula gasped. “India, Iris, Paula, meet my brother Zach’s son.”
The twins made all the right noises, not understanding the Zach perspective, but cooing over Cousin Charlie, who did his chubby best to coo right back, a trickle of drool landing on my keyboard. It was Paula’s shocked expression I zeroed in on. Her mouth was open, and I subtly shook my head—now was not the time to bring up past hurts in my continual need to track down Zach—she could berate me later, in private, and after a pause, she nodded.
“Is Zach with you? Did you find him? What happened?” she asked over the heads of the girls as they discussed which of their toys they were going to give Charlie.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’ll send you a message later; I just wanted you all to know that I’m looking after Charlie for a while, and he’s so excited to see you all over Thanksgiving.” It was my turn to have the girls, Paula—and Johan—had them for Christmas this year. I missed them both so much I wasn’t sure I’d ever let them out of a hug as soon as they arrived.
“Charlie could dress up as Chip the cup!” India said to Iris. “Chip was a baby, too.”
“Yes! Mom! Mom! Can we get a Chip costume for Charlie?”
“Of course,” Paula said, with a raised eyebrow.
We covered a few more graphic explanations of how sick India had been, and how Iris wanted to go to a castle and meet a broken tea cup and a beast, and they kept poking at the screen to attract Charlie’s attention, and at one point, Charlie tried to grab the image of his cousins, which was so damn cute. Then, we said our goodbyes and promised to catch up again soon, and I blew kisses, then took Charlie’s fingers, and made him blow a kiss too. He burbled and bounced, and everything felt so perfect.
As soon as I’d fed and changed him, I carried him around my backyard pointing out flowers, and when he grew dozy, I sat down and typed out the story, one-handed, to Paula, who sent me back a smile emoji. She’d seen everything about Zach during our short marriage;—me trying to find him, almost obsessed with him at times—and even though I’d tried to explain the other half of me was missing, it had been another downward step in a marriage that had started too fast and finished with us being friends. We’d married because of the twins; but we’d parted because ofus.
I was glad she had Johan now. For her at least.
A small part of me didn’t want to like wealthy, successful, handsome Johan being in my daughters’ lives, but he’d never shown interest in cutting me out, and if the girls were happy, so was I.
And he was a good guy, and I did like him.
“They’re happy,” I told Charlie, who blinked at me, his rosebud mouth open, his eyelids heavy. “I hope you’re as happy,” I murmured and carried him indoors, tucking him into his crib and getting the fastest shower on record so he wasn’t left alone. I even showered with the bathroom door wide open so I could see him… in case.
Whatever made my brother scared enough to drop his son with me could be out there, and there was no way in hell they were coming anywhere near Charlie.
