I hear a door close and turn. Terry climbs out of a white van with ‘Thompsons Plumbing Co’ along the side. He waves me up the road as he crosses to the back of the van.
“I thought you retired.” I tilt my chin to the van.
“It’s a friend of mine’s,” Terry replies, opening the side door. “I borrowed it for the day.”
I let that bit of information soak in. He borrowed a van from a friend and faced London traffic just to cart a crib all the way here.
He climbs inside, the van shaking at the motion. “If you just take that end,” he says.
Silently, I grab a hold of the corner of the box, and we maneuver it out of the van.
I start to walk backwards, minding my footing until we’re nearly beside my car. A slight pull halts me in my tracks,
“Are we not going straight up?” he asks, nodding to the door of Rosie’s old flat.
I shake my head. “No. We’ll get it in the back. I just have to put the seats down.”
When we get to the car, I gently lower my side of the box to the ground. “You got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
The car opens with a beep, and I get to work on setting the seats horizontal.
“Where are you taking it?” he asks suspiciously
“Home,” I answer from between the seats.
“Well, this is for Rosie and the baby,” he says.
I don’t reply.
“Does Rosie know about this?”
No Terry, this has all been an elaborate plot so I could steal your crib from the side of the road on a Saturday afternoon.
“I just don’t understand why we’re not taking it upstairs,” he mutters as I reach his side.
“I don’t have to take it, Terry.”
He clutches the box tighter. “I’ll wait here for Rosie to get home, and then I’ll take it up for her.”
He is not going to let this go and though a part of me is furious with him on Rosie’s behalf, I can’t help but pity the man. “Rosie doesn’t live here anymore.” I admit gently. “She lives with me now.”
He blinks at me shocked before looking down at the box in his hands.
“Since when?”
“Since your other daughter leaked this address on the internet and she had strangers outside her door,” I say unable to keep the frustration from my tone. My sympathy only extends to the man in front of me, not his other daughter. I slide the box in the car and Terry is still frozen on the pavement when I close the trunk.
“I could have delivered this to her new place.”
“From my understanding, she didn’t get a lot of notice.”
He nods, running his hands over his head. “Yeah, I thought it would be better to just surprise her, but I guess I didn’t think it through.”
Crib secured, I could just jump in the car and drive off but instead I find myself crossing my arms over my chest.
A part of me wants to shake the man in front of me until he falls to Rosie’s feet and apologizes for letting her down. It’s hard to imagine my own father in his position, he was always unwavering in his love for his children and loud about it, I never doubted how much he cared for me. But, I get the sense this is a man who doesn’t talk about his feelings. This is a man who takes a four hour round trip to deliver a bespoke crib for his youngest daughter without being asked.
