17. Chapter 17
Look, I don't particularly love flying.
Actually, I hate airports.
There's far too many people, and far too many small-talk conversations that happen between one place to the next.
How many, “hi, how are you,” can you really give out before people stop expecting you to say them?
I mean, fuck! You know?
I've talked to at least thirty people just to get to my gate.
Then I get into the plane, and I have to sit next to somebody else, and they, who have also had to do twenty to thirty of these small-talk conversations wants to do that again?
Just because we're sitting next to each other—my fucking god.
But anything that I can do to spend more time with Gracie is what I'm going to do.
Marissa had been generous in agreeing to do weekend visitation.
Even when I had to have Gracie stay with her for however long it takes me to clear up what's going on in Atlanta. I miss my Gracie all the time, so being back at the airport for more time than I’d like and getting back to Louisiana quicker is what I'm going to have to do. I’ll work it out otherwise as soon as I get to a house I once called home.
I knock, and it feels as wrong as it does every single time.
I don't want to get back with Marissa. She wasn't made for this life. I’m glad that she saw that and got out before it got bad for her.
But I won't deny that feeling like an outsider in a home I bought and built just for my family doesn't sting a little bit.
I'm thankful that it's not my ex that answers the door, but my little girl, who I guess I can't say is so little anymore.
“Papi,” she says, running full speed at me before jumping into my arms.
There are very few things in this world that I would give a shit about enough to endure eight plane rides every month for but Gracie is worth doing double that.
When she’s satisfied with hugging me, wiggling to get back to the ground from my arms, I set her on her feet. Fixing her shirt, I ask, “How have you been, honey?” The first time today I’ve asked the question and cared about the response.
“I’ve been so good. I really got into these space movies Mami showed me this week.
There's so many, and there's also a ton of TV shows. Did you know about this?” She begins to tell me about the show that she's been watching recently that features one of her favorite alien characters.
When I ask her questions because I have no idea about this thing, she grabs a book that Marissa apparently got her that has all the characters illustrated inside.
I pay attention to each one as she tells me their name, what they do, and what they're known for.
I love to see that she's getting into something that interests her, things that an eight year old should be caring about.
She goes on and on like that for a while before she starts to get hungry and drags me into the kitchen where Marissa is already sitting and waiting for her with a bowl of refried beans and cotija cheese with tortilla chips.
Gracie's eyes grow big as she goes to kiss her mom before taking the bowl and the chips.
Marissa only glares at me for a moment before she adds more chips to the bowl for me, as well.
It's then that she drags me to the back portico as the sun is rising a little higher. It’s warmer, warm enough for us to sit and enjoy what's left of her conversation about the space movie she's been enjoying.
“Hey, Gracie?” I ask.
“Yea, Papi,” she responds, scooping up a large amount of beans with her chip before popping it into her mouth.
“What would you think about livin’ in a different state?” I ask, not because I want her to come to Atlanta, but just to see if I end up having to be there long term, what I could work out.
The little bit of baby fat that remains on her cheeks is barely enough for me.
I love my baby girl, but I’ve got no desire to have anymore.
I got snipped and I’ve got no regrets about it.
I don’t want to miss any more time with my girl.
When she’s done chewing she says, “I don't know, Papi. I could kind of be like Heena, who explores new areas in search of safety for alien creatures that have been misplaced.” She grabs another chip, scooping some more before asking, “Oh, do you think they have the space movies there?”
“Umm,” I scratch my head, not wanting to diminish the special quality of her find with her mother since these shows stream from anywhere. “I’m sure they do. If not, I'd search hard to find them.”
“Oh, I think that'd be fine then,” she says, with a shrug “and maybe I'd be able to find other kids who also like it.”
Pinching her cheek, before taking a chip of my own, I nod. “I’m sure you could find that too.”
“Well, what about Mami? Would Mami come too?”
That might be the hardest part of all this. I couldn’t have Grace without her mother. The conversation is one that would be long, with Marissa fighting me tooth and nail but I hope she would come around if it came to that. “Mami would come too, but only if she wants, you know?”
“Mami really likes new places too, but she says she loves our house. And though I don't think she meant for me to hear it, she says she thought it's the only thing you ever did right. Is that true, Papi?”
I chuckle to cover the scoff at my ex's assessment, considering she hasn't had to pay rent in the climate we have right now—where the cost of everything has gone up exponentially—and the likelihood of getting a nice place like this at the cost I paid is unlikely. “I think Mami was just tryin’ to be funny, Gracie.”
“Oh,” she says in that innocent way that only kids can manage, completely oblivious to the snark of her mother's comment.
My phone rings in my pocket and I take a moment to look as my daughter continues looking through her book to show me new characters.
Nina: SOS
SOS, what could she possibly need saving from, or is it for me?
I look around to see if there's anything suspicious, and I don't clock anything. It's unlikely that anything could be going wrong here.
Vert: It’s not the time, Nina. What do you want?
Nina: I need your help
Need my help?
What could Nina possibly need my help with?
Vert: What’s up
To which she just replies with a skull emoji, along with several blood drops.
It takes me a second to realize what she's trying to say without being obvious, and I let out a long, long sigh.
“Can you give me a second,” I say to Gracie, before standing and picking up the phone that’s now dialing out in my hand.
“Nina, what did you do?”
She makes an offended sound, “Why do you assume I did something?”
“You sent me this text, and it can't possibly be because you found what you want to dress up as for Halloween.”
Nina takes the opportunity to squeal about what was supposed to be an insult. “Oh, I'm glad you asked. I actually have a really great plan. I'm thinking of going as Morticia Adams, but like the pink version. A pink Morticia.”
“Right. Think about that, Nina,” I droll, “What did you call me for?”
“You called me,” she whines, “I just sent you a text.”
“Yea, a text that very clearly hints at somethin’ that we both know you're not supposed to be doin’ right?
There’s some rustling that increases on her side before she says more clearly into the phone, “But you told me to tell you, so that you could do something about it.”
Looking around, I walk farther around my house to make sure my daughter can’t overhear what it’s going to be a conversation that is much too inappropriate for a girl her age. “I meant before you did what you've clearly done.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I forgot that part.” There’s more rustling followed by a thump.
“Um, and also it's kind of hard to tell, I mean, like your lectures get long and sometimes I just kind of tune them out, but this one I feel like I did nail pretty closely to the intended meaning, right? I mean, come on, I did let you know what you asked me to do, and as your partner, I feel that—”
I have to stop her there to clarify, “We're not partners.”,
“But we are. We're working together.”
“No, no, no, I'm workin’. You're doin’ whatever the fuck this is, which could actually fuck both of our families over.”
She’s breathing harder. “I don't think so. It hasn't in the past.” There’s another thud. “And who cares? They're just men.”
“Just—” I take a breath for calm, looking at my daughter to see if she's still enjoying her book and eating her snack, which she is. “Nina, if you're not in any danger, please—”
“But I was. He was giving me super creepy vibes.”
“Was he giving you creepy vibes? Or was he just not fawning all over you like most men do, who have some sort of kink for young women?”
“A kink you also clearly have,” she says under her breath but her phone manages to catch it since she’s still rustling with whatever she’s doing in Atlanta.
“I don't know, maybe the first one only?
It's hard to tell.” She pouts, and I rub my head trying to find any sort of patience or calm in dealing with this woman.
“Nina, I'm gonna get off the phone now. If you could, I don't know, not do what you've been doin’ for the weekend, at least, til I get back.”
“Get back?” She shrieks and it peaks her mic. “You're not in Atlanta?”
“Nah, I'm not.”
“Oh,” she says with a tone that makes me extremely nervous.
“Don't even think about it,” I say, more firmly but I can only be so intimidating from a completely different state.
“Think about what? I haven't thought anything… Enjoy your weekend,” she says, hanging up.
That's not a good sign.
That's not a good sign at all.
I stare at my phone after the call has ended, wondering what bullshit I'm going to come back to with Nina finding out that I'm not around to reprimand her or keep her in check.