Chapter 9 - Bruiser #2
"I never want to make her sad," I say honestly. "Your mama's very special to me. I want to make her happy."
"Good." Daisy nods decisively. Then: "Do you like playing?"
"Playing what?"
"Tea party! Or blocks! Or drawing!" She's getting excited now, bouncing slightly on her feet. "I have lots of crayons. Every color. Even the fancy ones with sparkles."
"I've never used sparkle crayons before."
Her eyes go wide. "Never?"
"Never."
"We have to fix that right now!" She grabs my hand. Her tiny fingers barely wrap around two of mine, and starts tugging. "Come on! I'll show you!"
I let her pull me toward a small table in the corner covered with coloring books and crayons scattered everywhere. She's surprisingly strong for such a little thing, determined to get me where she wants me.
"Sit here," she instructs, pointing at a tiny plastic chair that looks like it was made for someone a quarter of my size.
I look at the chair. Then at Joanna, who's clearly trying not to laugh.
"I don't think I'll fit in that chair, sweetheart," I say.
Daisy frowns, considering the problem. "You can sit on the floor then. That's what Mama does when we color together."
"The floor works."
I lower myself down, my knees practically to my chest even sitting cross-legged. Daisy plops down across from me and starts sorting through crayons with intense concentration.
"This is sparkle purple," she says, holding up a crayon that does indeed have glitter in it. "And this is sparkle pink. And this is sparkle gold but it's my favorite so you have to be really careful with it."
"I'll be very careful."
She hands me the gold crayon like she's bestowing a great honor. Then she pushes a coloring book toward me: princess-themed, naturally.
"You can color that one." She points at a princess with a big puffy dress. "I'll do this one." She's pointing at what looks like a castle.
I pick up the sparkle gold crayon. It looks absurdly small in my hand, and start coloring within the lines of the princess's dress. My hand's not exactly steady. These hands are made for hitting, for fighting, not for delicate work like this.
But I try. For this little girl who trusted me with her favorite crayon, I try.
"You're pretty good at coloring," Daisy observes after a minute.
"Thanks. You're very good too."
"I know. Mama says I'm an artist." She says it with such pride that I have to smile.
We color in silence for a few minutes. I can feel Joanna watching from the couch, probably wondering how the hell I ended up on her floor coloring princesses. Wondering if I'm okay with this. If I'm comfortable.
The truth is, I've never been more comfortable in my life.
"Danny?" Daisy's voice is softer now. Almost shy.
"Yeah?"
"Are you gonna stay? Like, for a long time?"
My hand stills on the coloring book. I look at her. This tiny person who's already been abandoned by one man who was supposed to stay. Who's learned too young that people leave.
"I'm going to try very hard to stay," I say. "I like your mama a lot. And I really like you. So yeah, I want to stay for a long time."
"What if you get tired of us?"
The question breaks my fucking heart.
"Daisy, I don't think I could ever get tired of you or your mama. You guys are pretty great."
"Promise?"
I should know better than to make promises I might not be able to keep. Should hedge, should give myself an out. But looking at this little girl with her blue eyes and her sparkle crayons and her need for reassurance, I can't do anything but tell her the truth.
"I promise I'll try my very hardest. Is that okay?"
She thinks about this. Then nods. "Okay. That's good."
She goes back to coloring her castle, crisis apparently averted. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Danny?" she says again.
"Yeah?"
"Can you reach that red crayon? It's way over there."
I stretch and grab it, hand it to her. She takes it with a bright smile.
"Thanks! You're really big and tall. That's good for reaching things."
"It comes in handy sometimes."
"And you have really big muscles. I bet you can carry really heavy stuff."
"I can carry pretty heavy stuff, yeah."
"Can you carry me?"
The question surprises me. "You want me to carry you?"
"Yeah! Mama says you're super strong. I wanna see!"
I glance at Joanna again. She nods, smiling.
"Okay," I say. "But we have to put the crayons away first, so they don't get lost."
"Deal!"
Daisy immediately starts gathering crayons with impressive efficiency. We get them all back in their box. Well, most of them; a few roll under the couch, and then she stands in front of me expectantly.
"Ready!"
I stand up, my knees grateful to not be folded anymore, and pick her up. She weighs nothing. Absolutely nothing. I could hold her all day and not feel it.
"Whoa," she breathes. "I'm so high up!"
"You are pretty high up."
"I can see everything! I can see the top of the fridge! Mama, I can see the top of the fridge!"
Joanna's laughing now. "That's pretty cool, baby."
"This is the best!" Daisy throws her arms around my neck. "You're like a giant! A nice giant!"
This little girl is hugging me. Trusting me. Calling me nice. I love it.
"Can we do tea party now?" she asks. "But you have to hold the tiny cups really gentle because they break easy."
"I'll be very gentle."
"And Mr. Flopsy has to come too."
"Of course. Can't have tea party without Mr. Flopsy."
She beams at me. "I like you, Danny. You're funny."
"I like you too, Daisy."
And I mean it. This tiny human with her sparkle crayons and her stuffed rabbit and her big questions about whether I'll stay, I already love her. It's that simple and that terrifying.
I look over at Joanna. She's watching us with tears in her eyes, smiling so wide it must hurt.
I mouth *I love you* at her.
She mouths it back.
And Daisy, still in my arms, says, "Okay, now we need the tea set. It's in my room. Mama, can Danny come see my room?"
"If Danny wants to."
"I'd love to see your room," I say.
"Yes!" Daisy points dramatically toward a door. "That way! This is gonna be the best tea party ever!"
As I carry her toward her room, Mr. Flopsy tucked under her arm, chattering about how many cups we'll need and what kind of pretend tea we should have, I realize something.
I'm not nervous anymore.
I'm home.