Chapter 34
thirty-four
. . .
Grant
It's a school holiday, so I took some time away from the studio for some father-daughter bonding. I've been working a lot lately and, admittedly, have been sharing my free time with Sophia, too. I don't think Hazel has noticed. We've been careful.
"Dad, come look. You can see where the astronauts sleep, and there's a picture of his family!"
Hazel grabs my hand and pulls me closer to the exhibit. Sure enough, there's a photo of what appears to be the astronaut with a woman and two small children.
"Pretty cool, nugget. Looks kind of small in there, though."
"Do you think the astronauts miss their families when they are up in space?"
"I'm sure they do. But I also think they are doing very important work, so sometimes, it can be worth leaving the ones you love for an exciting adventure."
She seems deep in thought as she stares into the glass-covered capsule.
"Yeah. I guess. It's sad when people are alone, though."
Ouch. Where did that come from? Does she feel lonely?
I know it's just me and her at the house, but I try to make sure she's involved in activities, and God knows I pay enough for the private school and all the extracurriculars they offer.
Maybe she's missing her mom. I make a mental note to send Geneva a text later this evening so she can reach out when she has a free minute this weekend.
"I'm sure it does get lonely, but he has pictures to remind him of what's waiting for him when he gets back home. Plus, I bet they get to bring great books to read!"
She nods but makes her way over to the telescopes so she can peep at some of the planets they have set up to view.
"Do you think you would ever go to space?"
"Hm. It sounds like an exciting adventure, but I think I would have to pass. Too risky for me."
"Yeah, but isn't that the whole point? You could discover something amazing that would change your whole world!"
She's looking up at me, waiting for my response. This kid is so incredibly smart and insightful. Some days, I have no idea if I'm doing anything right, but it's moments like this when I feel like I'm raising an incredible human and maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right.
"Yeah, I guess you're right, nugget."
"I am. It's like when we are at school and my friend Hannah gets too scared to slide down the big slide. I have to hold her hand, and then, when we get to the bottom, she's always laughing, and she's not scared anymore."
"You're a smart and good friend."
"I know."
I muffle the laugh that wants to escape because I never want to steal that confidence away from her and I hope she never loses it.
I watch in awe as she navigates between exhibits, as if she's been here a million times when, in fact, it's only been a handful.
She has no fear, and at the same time, she is completely vulnerable.
I miss the pure, open honesty I had as a child, and I wonder at what point it disappears.
At what point do we shut off a part of ourselves we were so happy to let everyone see?
I know a lot of my walls come from my father passing away unexpectedly. The grief is still harsh, even though it's been close to twenty-five years now. Some nights, just the thought of it sends me into a panic that I might die before Hazel grows up.
I shake my head. I can't go down that rabbit hole here. In fact, it's a dark place I try to avoid at all costs, and I'm not sure why I've even allowed myself to go there today.
We swing by the gift shop, and I'm easily suckered into buying her a space station Lego set. I rationalize that it's an educational toy, so I'm not spoiling her. Yeah, I know. You try to say no to this kid.
We walk out into the warm evening air and head over to the parking garage while Hazel swings my arm back and forth as we walk hand in hand.
"Did you have a good time?" I ask her. I can tell she did, but I love hearing her talk about the things she loves. I hope I never get tired of learning all there is to know about this incredible little human.
"I did. I can't wait to tell Sophia all about it."
"Sophia?"
"Yeah. I asked her if she could come with us today, but she said that sometimes, it's hard for her to go to crowded places."
She asked Sophia to join us today? Why would she do that? When did she do that?
"Yeah. I think a lot of people might recognize her, and sometimes, it's better to keep the attention focused on the museum exhibits."
"I think Sophia would go to space. She loves adventure, and taking risks, and trying new things."
I help Hazel into the car and buckle her into her booster, but my mind is still turning over what she said. It's true that great risk equals great reward.
I've always avoided risk and calculated every move.
Relationships, love—I've treated them the way I treat everything else.
Measured. Controlled. Safe. And I assumed Sophia was the same.
That she'd want something steady, predictable.
That she'd never be the type to take a leap without knowing exactly where she'd land.
But Hazel is right. Sophia does take risks. She's throwing herself into this film, into new challenges, into something she can't control but believes in anyway. She's willing to fail if it means chasing something that matters.
And I'm the one who assumed she wouldn't.
Because I wouldn't.
Because I told myself love—real love, the kind that takes over your life—wasn't worth the fall.
But now I'm wondering…what if I'm wrong?
When we pull up to the house, I see Sophia's car in the driveway, and my heart skips a beat. I've spent almost every evening with her, and it still doesn't feel like enough.
"I'm going to show Sophia my space station!"
Hazel has her seatbelt unbuckled before I turn the car off.
"Hang on a minute. We don't know if she has plans. It's not polite to bother her if she's busy."
"She's never busy when I visit her."
"When do you visit her?"
"Dad, I see Sophia every day! She's our guest. It would be rude to ignore her."
My mind is reeling at this new information. A sense of panic creeps in at the idea that Hazel is getting too attached to Sophia. What if it doesn't work out between us? The last thing I'd want is to hurt Hazel.
"I didn't realize you went to visit her so much."
"Oh, yeah. Most days, she's here when I get home from school, and we have a snack together, and sometimes, I come over in the mornings to bring her a Pop-Tart. She loves them."
"And you see her every day?"
"Almost. Don't you?"
And just like that, I'm irritated. I'm irritated my daughter might be getting attached to a person I'm just sleeping with.
My mind has tripped into an irrational space, and now I'm questioning if Sophia is trying to get closer to me by getting closer to my daughter.
Is she giving Hazel the wrong idea about us?
I follow Hazel over to Sophia's door and watch as Sophia's face lights up when she sees Hazel outside. She steps outside to greet us.
"Hey, nugget! How are you today? Did you have fun at the science museum?"
My jaw tenses at Sophia's use of my nickname for Hazel. That's my name for her. I know I'm being ridiculous right now, but something has me on edge, with irritation and distrust firing through my veins.
"Oh, yeah. We saw a space capsule where the astronauts live when they are working on the space station, and look what my dad got me!"
She lifts the Lego kit up, and the look of pure elation makes it hard to stay in my anger for a moment.
"Amazing! I can't wait to see what it looks like after you put it together!"
"Can you come eat with us, and I'll tell you all about it?"
"Hazel, I'm sure Sophia already has plans for dinner."
It comes out harsher than I mean, and I can tell it's confused Sophia when her eyebrows dip in confusion. Thankfully, she seems to understand that I'm hoping for a private dinner with Hazel tonight.
"Oh, darn. I have to go back up to the studio, so I can't join you for dinner, but maybe you can tell me all about it tomorrow?"
Sophia looks up at me to see if I'll object to the mention of spending time with her tomorrow. When I don't respond, she continues. "Besides, it sounds like it's been an adventurous daddy-daughter day, and I don't want to ruin the vibe."
"Oh, you won't. But that's ok. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."
Guilt rushes over me as I turn toward the house, but before we leave, I glance back and catch a flash of hurt or maybe confusion sliding across her face. Well, I'm confused too, so join the club.
We agreed to be careful around Hazel. I know I said I wanted to see where this was going, but it's only been a few days.
I'm irritated that she seems to be moving ahead like we're already a couple.
The last thing I need is for my daughter to get attached to someone who might not be here for the long term.