Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
“What’s wrong?” I ask Ainsley. It’s been a week since the ferry, my meltdown, shrimp and beer. I’ve trod approximately twelve excruciating miles in the park under Miles’s watchful eye. It’s a battle of wills. He’s committed to improving my cardiovascular health. I’m committed to “running” the mile in more than forty minutes, just to spite him.
But I’m not concerned with any of that right now. Right now it’s only Ainsley.
Miles looks up sharply and studies her. She’s hunched at the kitchen table, snack and juice untouched. Normally she draws loosely, all colors and big shapes. Today is just a dull pencil and she’s pressing hard little scribbles into the page.
“ Nothing, ” she says.
“Ains—” I start.
The tip of her pencil breaks. “Ugh!”
Suddenly, she’s got bright tears in her eyes. She snaps the pencil clean in two, rearing back and launching one half of it at the wall. It leaves a graphite mark right underneath the big calendar showing all of Reese’s work obligations.
“Hey,” Miles says, looking back and forth between the wall and Ainsley.
She stands up so fast the kitchen chair falls over backward with a bang. The noise shocks her, makes her jump, and she bursts into tears. She turns and hurries out of the room.
“What was that all about?” Miles asks me, his face slack with shock.
“I have no idea.” I’m staring at the door she just disappeared through.
“She was so happy when she got home from school.”
“Yeah. She was.” I go over and look at her drawing again. It’s a mass of angry scribbles. “Okay, let’s retrace our steps. When she and I got home from school, she was cheery. And she ran into the kitchen before me. You were already in here, right?”
He nods. “Yeah. I was reading at the table.”
“What did she do next?”
He thinks. “She said hi to me and then grabbed the snack you left out and sat down. No, wait. She grabbed the snack and then went and stood over there for a minute. I was distracted with what I was reading…Do you think she was mad that I wasn’t paying attention to her?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not like her. She stood over there?” I point toward the big calendar that now has the ugly black pencil mark right below it. Like she was aiming for it.
He confirms and I grab my phone. I follow the link to Ainsley’s school calendar that updates every month and then stand up and walk over to Reese’s calendar.
Sure enough, there is one big conflict. Ainsley’s school has their annual dance and talent show. And it sits smack-dab in the middle of a newly blocked off “out of town” workweek for Reese. “Oh, boy.”
“What?”
I show Miles the scheduling conflict. “I bet she’s really excited about the show and the dance and wanted Reese to come.”
“Dang. She must be disappointed.” He scratches at the back of his head. “Should we go talk to her?”
“Yes,” I say. “You should.”
“Me?” He’s aghast. “No, no. You know I’d fuck that up. You go in there and put on a wig and make her laugh or something. I’ll come in later.”
“I’m sorry,” Ainsley says in a little voice from the doorway of the kitchen. “I didn’t think it would leave a mark.”
We both turn to her. She’s scrubbing at her eyes and swimming in her T-shirt. She looks bite-sized and miserable.
“Did you hear what we were saying?” I ask her.
She nods.
“Did we guess right about the dance?”
She nods again and then breaks into tears. I rush to her and she lets me pick her up. I hold her close.
“Was there something you were particularly excited about?”
She gulps and talks through her tears. “There’s this thing where you dance with your grown-up and it’ll be so”—her voice breaks—“ embarrassing if I don’t have a grown-up with me.”
“Ohhhh. Like a father/daughter dance?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I guess. They don’t call it that, though. It doesn’t have to be a father.”
“Right. Of course.” I clear my throat. “It just has to be a grown-up in your life?”
She nods. “I really wanted it to be Mom.”
I kick backward, trying to make contact with Miles. I kick air. So I slowly tilt my body while still hugging Ainsley and bring him into my eyeline.
I make meaningful eyes at him, but he shakes his head.
Do it! I mouth.
No dancing! he mouths back.
I don’t care. If you don’t offer to dance with this little girl I’m going to kick your ass! I mouth back to him. I’m not sure he got any of it except for the kick your ass part because he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Ains…”
She lifts her head from my shoulder and looks at him.
“I’ll do it with you,” he says.
She sits up straight in my arms and frowns. “Oh.”
He clears his throat. “I know it’s not the same as having your mom do it. But…I’m your uncle. I…could do it. And, ah, it sounds cool. I’m sure it’ll be fun.”
She looks at me and then at him. “Really?”
“Sure,” he says with a shrug.
She purses her lips and looks him up and down. “Do you even know how to dance?”
“Ainsley!” I can’t help but burst out laughing. “I think you meant to say ‘Thank you, Miles.’?”
She slides down from my arms and walks over to him. “Thank you. Do you know how to dance?”
“I’m rusty,” he admits.
She reaches up and takes his hand, tugging him out of the room. “I’ll show you.”
He looks back at me as she leads him away by the hand and I swear, if there’s a word that means shock, elation, and trepidation all at once, it’s him, Miles Honey.