6. 6
6
“ L ook here, princess. This one is blue.” My dad points out another ice cream flavor while he holds Dahlia in his arms so she can see them all. “Oh, and they have bubble gum! You like bubble gum, don’t you?”
“But it’s not pink.” She tilts her head to the side. “Isn’t it supposed to be pink?” she asks me.
I lean forward to look at the flavor in question. It’s definitely usually pink, but the tub in front of the Bubblegum label is solid white.
“You’re right. It should be pink.”
We had come to this exact shop at least once a week last summer, we would know what color the flavors should be. The girl working behind the freezer is staring off into space, facing the large window that overlooks the parking lot. She didn’t work here last summer. The girls who did are always so excited to see us, and they know us by name.
Okay, I’m a talker. They know the names of my entire family, all of my friends, and all of their hobbies.
I know when to read a room so I don’t ask this one about the mysterious, colorless ice cream.
I follow her gaze to find that it’s started raining out there. I’m feeling a small percentage of regret for leaving my coat in the car, and a small percentage of pity for this girl that’s going to have a slow day for customers.
“I don’t want that one,” Dahlia tells us. “I want a pink one.”
“Okay baby girl, there’s strawberry.” I walk down, inspecting all of the colors. “Cherry pie. Watermelon sorbet. Circus cookie.” I wasn’t really in the mood for ice cream when we got here, but that last one just put me in exactly the right mood. I know what flavor I’m going with.
Dahlia tastes every single one of those, and I can tell Carly– as her name tag reads–is over it, but how else is a kid supposed to make a decision? She should know that by now.
I order for myself, and my dad, while we wait on her to decide. One scoop in a cup of the bright pink circus cookie, and two scoops in a waffle cone of the neon green pistachio. I look at his longingly when it’s handed over, second guessing my own decision. I’m a sucker for pistachio, but I try to mix it up.
“I want the blue one,” Dahlia finally announces. What a plot twist.
When she’s given her own cone covered in rainbow sprinkles, we sit down. I delay their eating by insisting on some pictures of the two of them, and then flip my phone camera around to capture a big smiling selfie of all of us. Only when I dive into my own dessert do I look down at my screen and notice Dahlia’s nose has a stripe of blue on it. I laugh and hand her a napkin so she can clean herself up.
My dad chats about tearing down the fence in their backyard to build a new one. Their dogs, two huge golden retrievers named Sunny and Rainy, were very sad to find out that most of their outside time will take place on a leash until further notice. I offer to take them over to Autumn’s house, which is equipped with enough space for the girls to run around. I’m sure her dog, Freddy, would love the company if I brought them over there.
My own ice cream is almost gone when the bell above the door sounds, and another customer walks in. I glance up, knowing what an avid people watcher I am, and having no shame about it.
It’s a beautiful woman, probably around my age. Her long, deep red hair looks like it was meant to be tucked behind her back, under the safety of her hood, but stubborn strands fall down the front of her chest anyway. It’s an impressive amount of hair.
She doesn’t look our way, or remove her hood when she walks up to the counter. Carly appears from the back, having heard the bell that probably drives her mad and haunts her dreams.
“What can I get you?”
“Four gift cards. Twenty dollars each.”
“Perfect, we have a couple options–”
“That one,” she interrupts.
I watch Carly’s face drop, her mood determined by the attitude of her customer. I can’t blame her, being interrupted makes me want to rage. I stare as the cards are scanned, and the customer taps her card on the reader.
“Have a good day,” Carly says quietly as she hands out a receipt.
Understandable, considering the woman snatches it and heads toward the door without a word. Someone’s either having a really bad day, or never learned to respect customer service workers.
Poor Carly.
I don’t stop watching when the woman leaves, thankful for a glass door, and the giant glass window.
My heart stops when I spot the car she unlocks.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Reya Renee,” dad scolds me.
I turn back to my company with a frown.
“Sorry sweetness, I shouldn’t have said that word.”
“It’s okay. I won’t say it.”
I kiss her temple. “You're the best.”
“Who was that?” my dad asks. His displeased tone tells me he noticed the same details I did.
“Well,” I look back to the familiar car to find it quickly pulling out of the parking lot. I’m not surprised she’d go snatching receipts and speeding in an area with heavy foot traffic. “I think that’s the reason I haven’t gotten any sleep this week.”
Because that forest green Subaru has been parked in our designated parking lot for the last few days.
Dahlia and I spend two nights with my parents, which works out great. Their house is close enough to her school that my mother walked her down there yesterday, and she keeps telling me she wants to do it every morning. It won’t be happening from our place, because I’m not much of a walker as it is and we live about ten miles away. My mother was very vocal about how fine she’d be with us staying over more, and it’s extra nice to have that reassurance given our current situation.
I help my dad whip up some pancakes with fresh fruit on top. He’s the reason I fell in love with baking, always inviting me into the kitchen to help with whatever he was creating. It started as dumping things into a bowl, and he gave me more responsibility as time went on. Measuring, mixing, poking with a toothpick to make sure things were done in the middle.
I try to include Dahlia the way he did with me, but she isn’t a fan of following a recipe or splitting the tasks with me. She wants to do it all, and she wants to do it her way. One of these days I’m going to let her, I just know she’s going to be so disappointed when the glob that goes into the oven is going to turn into nothing but a hot glob after forty minutes.
Or I could replace it with my own when she’s not looking so she thinks she’s a genius.
I watch as she sits at the table, and picks through the mixed berries on her plate for the strawberries. She not only neglects the rest of them, but the pancakes themselves.
I chuckle.
“Do you want more strawberries?”
“Yes, please,” she replies with wide eyes.
“Okay, I’ll get you more strawberries if you take two big bites of your pancakes.”
She doesn’t hesitate, filling her face before she’s even finished what was in her mouth.
Both of my parents shake their heads in disbelief, and I know exactly what they’re about to say.
“She listens way too well to be your kid,” my dad says with an amused smile.
“Seriously sunshine, how’d you manage that? We went to war to convince you to do anything at her age.”
”Yeah, yeah. I was a difficult child, let’s move on from that same old song, huh?”
They’re just teasing, of course, but they do it a lot. In reality, I think I just wanted to run around without shoes on all the time.
And I may have had a habit of trying to walk out the front door when no one was watching, but I never went further than the neighbors house. I just liked that they had so many flowers in their front yard. After the alarm of the first couple times, they even started helping me pick some to bring back to my parents. It was cute.
I kiss Dahlia’s head before setting a couple more sliced strawberries onto her plate.
“But I sure did get lucky.” I poke her cheek, so she knows she’s the reason.
Dahlia smiles and looks down as if the attention makes her shy, but I know it’s an act. She’s just too aware of how cute she is. She has a mom who will never let her forget it.
“What’s the plan tonight? Staying over again?”
I look to my mom with a frown.
“I think we’re going to head home and hope for the best, but don’t panic if you happen to hear someone unlocking the door in the middle of the night.”
“Noted,” they say at the same time. My parents are adorable.
I feel briefly relieved when I pull into my parking lot and find that the green Subaru isn’t in it. If I’m really lucky, it’ll stay gone all night.
Dahlia and I ran errands most of the day, and I finished it out by taking her to the mall so we could walk around, and ride every single one of their little coin operated rides. It was all an attempt to make sure she’d be extra tired tonight. When she lets out a big yawn as we walk up the steps, I feel like it was a mission accomplished.
My jaw clenches when I spot a piece of paper taped to my door.
None of those things are my problem. I haven't received any other complaints, so maybe you just need to invest in melatonin and earplugs. :)
(Hydrated corpses are still corpses.)
This note is written on the back of my previous one, and is wrinkled where spots of rain must have hit it yesterday.
“What did you get?” Dahlia asks.
I crumple the paper in my hand, and try to hide the scalding anger that rises in me.
“Junk mail.”
No one draws me a passive aggressive smiley face and gets away with it.