by Zoey Parker
She grinned. “That’s not lying. That’s bluffing.”
***
When we went downstairs, teeth and hair brushed, both of us dressed, we were the only people there. I knew more than a few people had spent the night—I remembered watching them stumble upstairs. Lance was one of them. It was already past eight o’clock, but I guessed that was practically pre-dawn to the people sleeping it off in the upstairs rooms.
“It’s so quiet down here right now,” Gigi whispered. “It’s always quiet like this in the morning.”
“Are you always alone like this when you first wake up?”
She shrugged. “It’s okay. I watch TV and play games until people get up. I don’t have to wait too long.” She was the most patient child I had ever known. I guessed a lifetime of waiting made a person more patient.
“What do you say we make breakfast for everybody?”
Her eyes lit up. “You know how?”
“Are you kidding? I know how to do lots of things.” We went to the kitchen, which was fully stocked. I guessed once Gigi came along, it became important to be sure there was plenty of food available. I looked around.
“What will we make?” Gigi tagged along behind me, watching as I pulled out ingredients.
“I think this is a good day for pancakes. What do you think?”
“Pancakes are my favorite!”
I smirked. “Have you been eating them every day this week?”
“No. Yesterday we had eggs, and the day before that, we had cereal.”
“Okay. Pancakes it is.” I didn’t want to serve something they’d been eating for days on end, like the spaghetti.
“Gee,” I said, looking at the ingredients. “I’ve never cooked them for this many people at once before.”
“You can do it.” Gigi smiled at me in that way only a totally trusting child could smile at an adult.
“You’re right. I can do it.” I pulled up a recipe on my phone and multiplied the ingredients to make more servings. Flour, milk, eggs, sugar, salt, butter, baking soda. They even had vanilla extract.
“What are you doing?” Gigi asked as I poured a splash of white vinegar in a measuring cup full of milk.
“I’m making buttermilk. It’s science. See, when I add the vinegar, watch how the milk clumps up.” She watched closely as the milk separated. “It makes it very tangy. I’ll leave it there for a while, until it gets thick. When I mix it in with the baking soda, it’ll make the baking soda foam up a little bit, too. That makes the pancakes fluffy.”
“I didn’t know cooking was science!” She giggled. “I feel like I’m in school with you and it’s only Saturday.”
We laughed together over that. Then I went to the large griddle pan and turned it on.
“I think I saw bacon in here somewhere…” I found a large package and laid the slices on sheet trays.
“You’re cooking it in the oven?” She sounded amazed.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s easy to do it that way when you’re cooking a lot at once. My mom used to do that when she made big breakfasts at home.” My heart clenched a little and tears squeezed my throat. How many Christmas mornings had I spent in the kitchen with her? I used to watch the milk turn to buttermilk, just the way Gigi did.
“You had a mommy, too?”
I smiled through the threatening tears. “Sure, I did. Everybody has a mommy.”
“Not everybody. Some people have two daddies, the way Evan does.” Evan was one of Gigi’s classmates.
“That’s true. He has two daddies. Some people have two mommies, too. Some people only have their mommy or their daddy. You’re very right. I had a mommy and a daddy.”
“Did your mommy teach you how to cook?”
“She sure did, kiddo.” Again, it was tough to fight back the tears. I turned away, putting the bacon in the oven, then tested the griddle for readiness.
“Okay! Let’s put some pancakes on the griddle.” Gigi watched in fascination as I poured batter onto the pan, and explained how the batter got hot and cooked. “This is science, too,” I explained. “It’s all science.”
“And it’s yummy,” she added.
“Yes. Science can be yummy.” I left her to watch the pancakes under strict orders not to touch the pan, and turned to the coffee machine. It didn’t take long before a large pot was brewing, and I flipped the pancakes when I finished getting it set up.
We repeated this process through four batches, keeping the pancakes warm under foil. By that time, I heard noise coming from the lounge.
“See who’s out there,” I whispered. “Tell them breakfast is almost ready.” She marched out proudly to announce that it was almost time to eat. I heard cheers, and chants of “Gigi! Gigi!” I smiled from ear to ear, admitting that it was extremely sweet to hear her treated that way.
“I can’t believe you did all this!” Erica walked in, still in her pajamas. I waved a hand, showing it was nothing. She helped me finish up, getting the syrup, plates and such. By the time the last batch was finished, the bacon was also ready. I put it out on a big platter, and Erica called the troops in for breakfast.
What I saw nearly stopped my heart, it was so sweet. Lance carried Gigi on his hip, and she told him all about the science of cooking. There was something incredibly adorable and natural about them, like he’d been carrying her that way all her life. I wondered if he even realized he was doing it, or if he did it without thinking.
It was incredibly sexy, too. I couldn’t deny it even to myself that the sight of him taking care of her, listening very closely as she told him how buttermilk is made from milk and an acid, made my heart skip a beat. I smiled, turning my head away so he wouldn’t notice. I didn’t want to break the spell.
After we sat down, picking seats at random throughout the clubhouse, Lance sat beside me.
“What made you do this?” he asked, motioning to the food.
“I was hungry.” I shrugged.
“But breakfast for everybody?”
I shrugged again. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
He nodded thoughtfully before digging in. “Well, I’m glad you did,” he said before shoving in another mouthful of pancake. I had to chuckle at how eager he was.
“I have to say, you and Gigi seem like you’re getting closer.”
He looked at his plate, and I wondered if I’d gone too far. It was a risk, getting personal like that. He seemed to let it roll off his back, though, replying, “Yeah, we’re pretty good friends already. She’s an easy kid to like. I’m glad she’s not one of those whiney brats you see in stores and places like that. Begging for a toy or a treat.”
“I have to admit, I can’t stand that either,” I murmured. We laughed together.
“I once saw a kid begging his mom for a candy bar at the drugstore. He was a pudgy little guy, too. So Mom was like ‘No chocolate. You already had dessert.’ Something like that. The kid burst into tears—fake tears, of course. He kept begging, ‘Please, Mama. Please, can I have the chocolate? Please?’ I thought it was pretty funny, actually, the way he wouldn’t let it go. Finally, what does he do? He picks up the damn thing and tries to hide it behind his back.”
“No!” I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, right? And his mom didn’t notice, actually. She had a bunch of things to carry. The guy behind her in line gave her the heads up before they left the store. She didn’t say anything at first, just took it from him and put it on the counter. But you could hear her screaming from inside once she got to the parking lot.”
“I bet. I don’t know, though. In that case, it sounds like the kid’s an addict or something. I’ve seen more spoiled kids in the five years I’ve been teaching…you have no idea. Kids who just come into school swinging their arms, trying to hit somebody. They don’t stop swinging until they leave. Then there are the kids who expect everything done for them. Or the ones who can’t be held responsible for anything, even if they lie or cheat. Their parents get up in arms if I dare call th
eir snowflake out for being anything less than perfect. It’s really frustrating.”
“It sounds that way,” Lance murmured. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“I love kids. It sounds funny, maybe a little corny, but I do.” I smiled at him, and his smile lit up the room.
“Thanks for loving mine.” It was so quiet, only I could hear it—and even then, barely. I did hear it, though, and my heart skipped another beat. If I spent much more time around him, I would need a pacemaker.
“And another thing,” I said, thinking things over while I ate, “there’s something we have to keep in mind. Both of us.”
“What’s that?”
I looked over at Gigi, who ate her pancakes with Erica and one of the guys she massacred at poker. “Kids like her aren’t just born. They’re raised.” I turned back to Lance. “We have to remember that Rae raised her with the respect she has, the patience, the kindness. She’s the sweetest kid I know. Always trying to help the other kids in class with their work, even when they’re all dressed better than she is. Even when she comes to school with no lunch. She doesn’t cower in the corner. She still puts herself out there. Rae did that. She raised a good kid.”
We sat in silence, watching Gigi take over the room as she talked about the way science makes pancakes fluffy.
Chapter Ten
“I’m telling you, I could take a day off and let you be the teacher.” Gigi grinned, looking up from her notebook.
“You’re still the best teacher,” she assured me.
“Thank you. You’re too kind.” She giggled, then went back to the science lesson. We’d already had a science lesson that weekend, of course. I wondered what it would be like to homeschool a child. I guessed it would be like that, finding ways to bring science into everyday life, along with math and history and all the other subjects. It was an exhausting thought—home was home, work was work. I didn’t know how homeschooling parents did it.
Once I was confident my little pupil was all caught up—it didn’t take long, not that I expected it to—we sat down to a game of checkers.
“How long will I live here?” Gigi asked at one point. I had known something was on her mind—she was quieter than usual, though she’d sworn she was okay.
I couldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know, sweetie. Are you unhappy here?” I kept my voice low, wanting to avoid attention.
“No. I like it here. But it’s not the same as living in a house, is it?”
“No, it’s not the same at all.”
“And there are lots of people. They’re nice people, but sometimes I like to be alone.”
“I know what you mean. I like being alone sometimes, too. You know, you could always go to your room if you’re tired of being around people.”
“Yeah, but I can’t go out and play. There’s nowhere to play.” I hadn’t thought about that. There wasn’t even a park anywhere nearby. Meanwhile, at my house, I had a beautiful lawn, a big backyard and a park just a block away. Yet another reason why she would have been better off spending the weekend with me.
“That stinks,” I commiserated. “Well, I’m sure it won’t be forever. You’ll be able to go to a new home soon.”
She was so smart. “A new home? Not my house, with my mommy?” Her chin trembled. Crap. Leave it to me to be the one to drop the ball like that.
“What I meant was you and your mommy might get a new house. I think that’s what she might be doing right now, finding you a new house. Wouldn’t you like that?” I was such a bad liar. She saw right through me. But that was the thing about kids like her—she was used to being lied to, and pretending to believe the lies. She only smiled and nodded, then went back to the game. I stared at the top of her head while she considered her next move, white scalp making a straight line down the middle of two dark pigtails I’d made myself.
She looked so much like her father, it was startling. I was beginning to notice that she even made the same facial expressions as he did. If anybody ever asked me my stance on nature versus nurture, I wouldn’t know what to say. While Rae raised her to be a good kid, so many of her father’s traits shone through in her, it took my breath away.
As though he heard me, Lance entered the room. He saw us playing checkers and smiled, but there was no cheer in that smile. It was tight, distracted. He was glad his daughter was occupied but was too occupied himself to actually care, or come over to see how the game was going. She was a problem being taken care of at the moment. He could move on to the next problem for the time being.
I wondered about him. He managed to make his life look pretty easy, but I was sure it took a lot of mental stamina and toughness to wrangle a group of rough guys like his crew. He always had to be “on,” always presenting a strong front no matter what was going on inside his head.
Like Gigi. I knew the situation with her and Rae had to be tearing him apart. He looked worried, distracted. I wondered how much of it had to do with the ticking clock. He’d promised to let me take her by Sunday night if Rae wasn’t in the picture. I wished I’d gotten a certain time in writing—he might make me wait until one minute before midnight before I was allowed to leave with her. Not that I cared. Getting her out of there was all that mattered to me.
Lost in thought, I hardly noticed when Gigi jumped four of my pieces. “King me!” she said, clapping. I could only shake my head at her, wondering where on Earth her brains came from when neither of her parents seemed exactly to be Nobel Prize winners.
***
That was Sunday afternoon, when Lance was only mildly tense and difficult to be around. By Sunday evening, the tension was almost unbearable.
I knew he felt it, too. He was snippy, irritable—not just with me, but with everybody in the clubhouse. The energy was high, volatile. Like a single spark could set off an inferno. I didn’t want to be around for it when it happened.
I knew why he was acting that way. He remembered the deal we made. And Rae was nowhere to be found, which made Lance increasingly angrier. I thought I heard crashing noises coming from inside his office once or twice. Showing his temper, the big baby.
I couldn’t wait. As pleasant as I’d tried to make it in the clubhouse for both Gigi and me, my efforts were starting to fall flat. I had no desire to sit through another night of drinking and card games, and didn’t like feeling confined to “my” bedroom. I wondered if it was the way a caged animal felt, unable to control their destiny.
Gigi was in the kitchen with Erica, fixing a treat after dinner, when I heard another loud crash from the office. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I barged into the room to find Lance breathing heavily, fists at his sides. I didn’t know what he’d slammed, though I thought it might have been a desk drawer.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I whispered fiercely. “Are you trying to make her afraid of you?”
“I could really do without your lectures right now,” he spat, holding a hand up in my face.
“Get your hand out of my face.” I moved away, incensed. “You don’t get to do that.”
“I’ll do whatever I wanna do, because this is my clubhouse and my club. And she’s my daughter, not yours. Stop acting like you know what’s best for her.”
“Are you insane? You don’t even know what’s best for yourself, much less for her.”
“Don’t start with me. I’m not in the mood,” he warned. His nostrils flared when he got angry, and they were flaring hard as he stared at me. A quick glance down at his hands told me they were both still in fists at his sides. I kept a distance between us.
He saw me look, though. “You really think I would hit you? Jesus Christ, you’ve been here all weekend and you don’t know the first goddamned thing about me or any of us. And you’re supposed to be the smart one.”
“I’m smart enough to know that Gigi is going to be much better off in my house, sleeping in my guest bed, starting tonight. According to our agreement, of course.”
He reeled slightly, like I’d
hit him. “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you take my kid away from me.”
It was my turn to reel back. “You’re not serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“Try me. There are dozens of us and only one of you.”
I gasped. “They would do that? Even when it’s obvious she’d be better off with me? Even though that was part of our agreement? Part of the reason I’m here in the first place?”
“Why do you assume she’d be better off with you? What’s so fucking special about you? She has a lot of people here who care about her. You see how much they do. They’re good to her. They treat her like a princess, for Christ’s sake.”
