8. Berg
Chapter eight
Berg
I focus on erasing the last of the makeup off my daughter’s lips.
Lou twists out of my reach, eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and I know what she’s gonna say before it’s even out of her mouth. “Do you want to come to my birthday party, Caro?”
Yep. There it is.
“Oh. Lou, honey.” I clear my throat and stand, stuffing the tissue into my pocket. “Caro–uh, Carolina doesn’t want to come to a kid's birthday party.”
Caro crosses her arms and pops out a curving hip. “Says who?”
The way one of her eyebrows arches makes my head feel airy.
Louisa is undeterred by my comment.
“It’s at a farm. This weekend! There will be donkeys. ”
Caro’s jaw drops in what I hope is faux surprise. But maybe she’s into that kind of thing.
“Donkeys! What else?” She leans against her door frame like she has all the time in the world to hear my daughter list off barnyard animals.
“A pig! A big fat one with piglets. And bunnies.”
“Bunnies? Are you kidding me? Berg, why would I not want to come to a party with bunnies?”
I shrug my shoulders.
The pitch of Lou’s voice is getting higher with every animal she lists. She’s practically bouncing with excitement. I wish Carolina wouldn’t have asked her all these questions. Louisa is only going to be disappointed when she tells her no. Some people don’t understand how literally kids take things.
“No! I’m telling the truth!”
Natalie really loves hanging with me, asking me questions about work and she’s already decided she wants to work in trades. It makes me proud. But Louisa is my girly girl and when she gets in close proximity to a woman she meshes with? Well, she seizes the moment. It’s best to cut this off at the pass.
“Alright, you three, Daddy has to go to work.”
A peachy pink blush spreads over Carolina’s cheeks as I process what I said.
I run my hand through my beard, stumbling to correct myself. “Uh, you two. You know what I mean.”
“But can you come to my party?” Lou asks, her voice on the edge of a whine .
Ah, Christ.
“In the truck, go on. Give her time to think about it.”
I give each girl a tickle on their ribs to get them moving. When the doors are shut and my daughters are safely out of earshot, I draw a slow breath.
“Six-year-olds see things in black and white,” I explain. “It would be best if you tell her flat out you can’t make it to her birthday party instead of leading her on, okay?”
Carolina blinks rapidly. “I don’t understand.”
I don’t have the time or patience to deal with her acting slow about this. Louisa is sensitive. She has a small group of women in her life. My older sister who lives on the mainland, Ashlyn, Anna. She doesn’t need anybody else. But when I open my mouth to spell it out for her, she beats me to the punch.
“I’d love to come to her party. As long as it’s okay with Daddy.”
Wait, what?
My head snaps up and I catch a mischievous glint in her eyes.
She laughs at the shock on my face. “I’m just joking around, Berg. You took my door off the hinges this morning, so I think you can take it.”
Why do I get the feeling she’ll never let me live this one down?
I want to make sure I understand her. “You want to come to a seventh birthday party? At a farm.”
“Of course. She invited me,” she says like it’s super obvious. She may as well throw in a “duh”.
“Well, I… ”
I did not expect that.
“Text me the details?”
“Sure, right. I…don’t have your number.”
“You know where I live.”
She smiles before letting the door swing shut, the automatic lock whirring as it engages.
***
I’m still in a daze five minutes later, processing that conversation as we approach the school. There I was, ready to explain to Carolina that my kids can’t really take any more disappointment, and then she surprised me. It appears that Caro is into the idea of a petting zoo party, but I’m not sold. We’ll see if she shows. For Louisa’s sake, I sure hope so. Chris has suggested that his sister isn’t the most reliable, and we certainly don’t need any flakiness in our lives.
“I like her,” Lou says from the backseat around a bite of granola bar I didn't even know she had.
I'm sort of worried she found it half eaten, so I don't even ask.
“Mmm hmm,” I reply, not wanting to encourage her too much. “It will be lots of fun. I think Sarah from your class is coming, Chris and Anna, Milly–”
“Daaad! Why did you invite her?”
Natalie makes an exasperated sound in agreement with her little sister .
“I don’t know!” I groan. “It just happened.”
“Inviting somebody doesn’t just happen, Daddy,” says Natalie in a matter-of-fact tone. “That’s why we’re not supposed to hand out invitations in class. Because people get their feelings hurt.”
“Is that why you invited Milly? Because you thought her feelings were going to be hurt?” Louisa asks.
“No, Lou. I didn’t mean to invite her at all, remember?”
Tamara cornered me weeks ago to ask if I was free that weekend. I panicked and listed every commitment I could think of for the foreseeable future. One of those commitments happened to be Louisa’s birthday party. Before I knew it, she’d basically invited herself. That woman has a way of sucking information from you like some sort of advanced vacuum.
“Do you think Caro will come? She said she likes donkeys.”
I can’t make any promises, so I keep my response neutral as I glance at her in the rear-view mirror.
“I guess we’ll see, kiddo.”
That's all I can hope for. Because I like her too. A little more than I should. And I hope she comes too.