I drew in a breath to say something, but Trey interjected, “Why doesn’t your mother let you paint in the house?”
I glared at him, but he simply ignored me as Aurora cocked her body slightly toward him. “She says I’ll make a mess.”
“Well, do you make a mess?”
“Sometimes.”
“And do you clean up that mess when you’re done?”
My eyebrows shot up as Rori sighed. “Not really.”
Trey nodded. “Then, that’s why your mother won’t let you paint inside. If you make the mess, shouldn’t you clean it up?”
My daughter clicked her tongue. “It’s not like she told me that, though! She just thinks I’m supposed to know things.”
I shook my head. “Honey, I’ve told you that several times.”
She folded her hands across her chest. “Well, not like he did.”
Trey chuckled. “Why do you want to listen to me instead of your mother? That seems a bit counter-intuitive.”
My daughter wrinkled her nose. “I dunno what that means.”
He grinned. “It means that you want something she can give you, but you aren’t listening to her when she tells you what you need to do in order to get it. It’s counter-intuitive to what you want to accomplish. What you want to get from her.”
“Oh.”
I stepped off my pedestal and watched as Rori talked with Trey more than she had ever spoken with me before. I mean, I felt like I was close to my daughter, but during those times that we butted heads, she usually shut down. I watched Trey talk freely with her as if they had been friends for years, and I learned scores of information about them both simply sitting there and listening to the two of them go back and forth with one another.
He's surprisingly good with kids.
He spoke with her in a very practical way. He didn’t dumb down his language to fit hers; if anything, he defined words she didn’t recognize and taught her while they talked. It was a sight to behold, and it made me wonder if Trey had ever considered the idea of fatherhood. Because he’d make a pretty good one, from what I was witnessing.
“Hey, Mom?”
Rori’s voice pulled me from my trance. “Yeah?”
She looked up at me with little puppy dog eyes. “Why don’t you paint anymore? We could paint together, you know if you wanna.”
I felt Trey watching me like a hawk as I rubbed her knee beneath the table. “I just haven’t had time for it, honey. Raising you is a big job, and I still have to work a big-girl job, too. So, whenever I get some free time to myself, I just like to rest and relax, you know?”
Rori’s brow furrowed together. “What if I start making breakfast in the morning? Can we do some painting, then?”
I sighed. “Honey, it’s not that easy. It’s—”
“I could cook dinner if that helps. Then, we can paint something before we go to bed!”
It felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. “I promise it’s okay. We’ll find a way to get you painting inside again. Maybe we can paint the hallway walls or something, yeah?”
“But, Mom, I want you to paint with me.”
Trey’s voice sounded from across the table. “Just let me know what you guys need in terms of paints and brushes and easels, and I can have it shipped to wherever you need it.”
Rori pointed up to him. “See? Even he wants you to paint again. Come on, Mom. Please?”
I clicked my tongue. “Is it that important to you?”
Rori clapped her hands together. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”
