She’s busy arranging her pillows into their usual formation for our bedtime routine. I take the book from her small bookshelf, and when she has everything situated, I sit on the bed beside her, with my back to the headboard.
Lifting my arm, she scoots closer to my side, and I open her current favorite book,Dogzillaby Dav Pilkey.
“E.G.,” I read aloud. “This book has been rated Extremely Goofy. Some material might be too goofy for grownups.”
She giggles, cuddling closer, and I smile. It’s a book I used to read to Hendrix when he was a kid, and he got a kick out of it as much as my daughter does.
It feels good when she laughs at the same parts he did, like it’s a link to a time before my life went sideways.
A time when I was still innocent, too. Before the world came down on my shoulders.
I start to turn the page, but Kimmie stops me. “Don’t forget the cast list, Daddy!”
“Right.” I clear my throat. “Starring Flash as The Big Cheese, Rabies as Professor Scarlett O’Hairy…”
I continue reading the book about a colossal canine menacing the city of Mousopoulis. It’s not a long book, but it’s just enough to have my daughter’s eyes closing as I get to the part where the brave mice are chasing the hot dog with all the relish they can muster.
When we get to the final page, Kimmie shoutsPuppies!with me, and I exhale a chuckle. I realizeDogzillais as much a part of my bedtime routine as it is hers.
My eyes linger on the little bundle of energy curled up at my side. My daughter.
Leaning down, I kiss the top of her head. I can’t imagine her being left alone the way we all were that year that never seemed to end, the way Dylan was at her age.
I only ever want Kimmie to have the things we lost—family, love, security. Her mother left before she knew her, but Dylan and I’ve worked hard to fill that gap.
Although, one day Dylan will have her own babies…
My mind drifts to a pretty brunette with bright blue eyes. A petite beauty who’s a protective mother of her only son and who looks up at me like I’m her hero. The way she looks at me stirs a need so deep in my soul. It’s a need I’ve tried so hard to deny.
Closing the thin paperback, I set it on the bedside table, pushing those thoughts away. I can’t start something with her now. I’m not the man they all think I am, and when the mask falls, I’ve seen what happens.
Clearing my mind, I nudge my little girl. “Prayers.”
She nods, lifting her small hands and clasping them together in front of her nose. She starts with the “Now I lay me down to sleep” part, but when she gets to the end, she starts to freestyle.
“Bless Aunt Deedee, and help her have a baby with Uncle Logan for me to play with. Bless Uncle Grizz and Aunt Liv and Baby Gigi. Bless Uncle Zane and Aunt Rachel, and help them have a baby for me to play with. Bless Uncle Craig and Uncle Clint, and help them have a baby for me to play with.” Her little brow furrows, and she looks up at me. “Can they have a baby, Daddy?”
“Sure.” I pat her little back, leaving the conversation about adoption and surrogacy for another night when I’m not exhausted.
“Yay!” She grins, then promptly closes her eyes again. “Bless Eddie and Aussie and Major Tom and Miss Allie… and help Daddy not be blind so he can see how much Miss Allie loves him like everybody says.”
My chin jerks, and I study her tightly closed eyes, wonderingif she understands what she just said. If she does, I wonder how she feels about it.
“And bless all the kittens, and don’t let Apricot get eaten by a ’possum.” She finishes with anAmen, and her eyes pop open. “Was that a good prayer?”
I slide to my knees beside her bed and lean closer to kiss her forehead. “Yep, I’m pretty sure you got everybody.”
When I’m not getting up at 7 a.m. to stand around baking in the hot sun all day, I’ll follow up with her about a few of these items—or specifically, the part about Allie.
A few years ago, I chatted with one of the school guidance counselors about divorce and dating and small children. The counselor said she wasn’t a real therapist, so she wouldn’t go on the record with any of her advice.
Still, she suggested I let Kimmie tell me how she understood things, then figure out the best, age-appropriate explanation. Or let her go with her own interpretation, depending on what it was.
The more we talked, the more I realized the counselor was leaning closer, smiling up at me and blinking, saying what a good dad I was. Then when she suggested helping me test the dating waters, I made a quick retreat.
Since my disastrous marriage, I haven’t been interested in going down that path again with anybody. Until Dylan insisted I meet her new friend Allie.
I remember the day she walked into the restaurant holding her son’s hand and looking up at me, cautiously but with so much strength.
