A look of uncertainty crossed Maggie’s face for a millisecond, but she covered it up with a smile. “Perfect. Thank you so much. Have a great night, you two!”
“Oh, no, thankyou.Both of you,” Clarissa responded as Bruce began opening the door and dragging her out. “We’ll see you later!”
“Bye.” I waved them off as the door shut.
Josie turned away from the door and threw her hands in the air. “Yay! Party time!” She and Kellie darted into the living room together.
A hand gripped my forearm as I faced Maggie. “Hey, we got this,” she whispered.
“Mags, I don’t know shit about kids.” The last time I was around someone this young, his mother yelled at me because I was slurring drunk words to him about his skateboard.
“Just don’t cuss around the kids and smile big.” She reached up to kiss my cheek. “Let’s do this.”
An hour later, the four of us were sprawled out on the floor of the girls’ playroom. Maggie wasn’t kidding when she said these girls were horse-obsessed. Posters of jumping, dressage, and polo horses filled the walls, along with some cartoon ponies, pegasi, and unicorns. Stuffed animals and bins of toys lined the room's perimeter, and we had created an entire horse villagewith all the horse toys they owned, which was more than I had ever seen in my life. We each got our own horse, and the girls insisted we speak in character. I had the girls giggling after doing my first impression of what I thought my black stallion would sound like. It turned out that kids weren’t so bad, at least when they were entertained. The girls questioned me like I was a celebrity after Maggie informed them that I was a professional polo player. They asked what it was like traveling the country for my job and if I had ever ridden a unicorn. After hearing loads about their obsession with the mythical creature, I conjured up an idea.
“Actually, Maggie and I have a unicorn at our house.”
Their jaws dropped to the floor, encouraging me to go on. I could fib a couple of eight-year-olds by putting a plastic horn on one of my grey horses, and they would never know the difference. Maybe they would come to visit our place sometime to see it.
Shit. What are you doing? Bonding with little kidsandfantasizing about showing them a unicorn? What’s gotten into you?
Maybe these fatherly instincts were beginning to kick in.
A chorus of “what’s?” and “oh my goodness!” filled the space.
“Yeah, her name is Neva. She’s a white horse with little brown spots, and she has a big unicorn horn on her head.” I glanced over at Maggie, who hid a smile and nodded, encouraging me to go on. She was probably as shocked at my behavior as I was.
“No way! You have a real live unicorn? I wanna see it!” Kellie exclaimed, wide-eyed and in awe.
“Yes, we do,” Maggie chimed in and scooted closer to me. “She is the most magical creature in the whole barn.”
Josie looked between us. “Wait, unicorns don’t have spots. Are you sure she’s real?
My wife laughed and nodded. “Neva is a special unicorn. She’s not like the ones you see in movies.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes, and I reached my hand over to rest on her thigh. I could tell she was trying her best not to glance over at me.
“That’s so cool!” Josie yelled as she galloped around the room with her small horse toy in hand.
“Miss Maggie?” Kellie asked innocently and crawled closer to us.
“Yes?”
“Is it scary to fall off when Mr. Jack plays polo? I’ve never fallen, and I am kind of scared of it happening to me.”
Maggie looked at me and mouthed a silentawwbefore turning back to Kellie. “Well, Jack is a professional, and everyone on the field puts safety before anything else, so it’s not likely that something will happen to him.”
It wasn’t necessarily true, but I liked that she calmed their nerves without blatantly lying to them like I did about our fucking unicorn.
“Ohhh,” Kellie nodded.
“And, we always make sure to treat our horses the right way so they don’t trip often,” I added. I had never gotten to explain polo to a little kid before. Seeing their faces light up when I told them something new was refreshing.
Josie hopped over to sit next to her sister. “Mr. Jack, is polo hard?”
I nodded. “It’s a little challenging at first, but the more you practice, the better you get.”
“Can I be a professional polo player like you someday?” The look in the young girl’s eyes nearly broke me, and very few things had that effect on me. She looked like she was gazing at birthday candles on a cake, dreaming of what she wanted more than anything.
“Of course, you can. You can be anything you want.” I gulped. A conversation with an eight-year-old was not supposed to feel as intense as it did.
