Chapter Twelve
Tap tap tap.
I roll over in bed, searching for those last few seconds of sleep.
Tap tap tap.
My eyes open to find a tousle-headed little girl standing not-so-patiently beside my bed.
Sometimes while I’m sleeping, I forget I’m a father. It’s all still so new. Less than a week ago, my biggest worry was the weather. Grapevines do best with full sun, seven to eight hours a day of it. Less light leads to lower fruit production, poorer quality, and fruit rot. In my position as Chief Operating Officer, I became obsessed with the weather. Yet now I realize I haven’t checked it in days.
Maisy turns on the light and shoves a picture in my face. I smile, because although I’ve had to say no the past few days, today I get to say yes.
“Yes,” I say and sign.
She squeals.
I love her squeal. It’s one of the few sounds she makes.
Somehow, when she was here on Friday, Ellie was able to convey to Maisy that she’d be going to school soon. She made three pictures of a little curly blonde-haired-girl sleeping and the fourth picture was of the same girl sitting in a schoolhouse with other children.
Maisy seemed to understand the school part, but what she didn’t quite get was the three sleeps. For the past two days, she’s come into my room with the same schoolhouse picture. And for the past two days, she’s thrown a tantrum when I said no.
I hate saying no.
It’s not that I want to spoil her—okay, so maybe I do a little—but saying no when she can’t understand why is really a ball buster. It breaks my goddamn heart. But it seems there have been a lot more ‘nos’ than ‘yeses’ lately, which is why I’m happy to see her so excited right now.
She runs out of my bedroom. I learned very quickly not to sleep naked, so I roll out of bed half-dressed in sweatpants, and follow her. When I round the corner to her room, she’s already undressing and reaching for the outfit she picked. It’s not one I’d have chosen. It looks like something a little girl would wear to church. But based on the wardrobe she showed up with, it was evident she never got to wear fancy clothes. So now, that’s all she ever wants to wear, even though all we’ve done is stay home.
Until now.
Suddenly I’m nervous. What if she hates school? Will the other kids make fun of her because she’s so far behind?
But I mask my anxiety and try to bask in the fact that, for the first time, Maisy seems happy. The only other times she isn’t sad is when Ellie is around.
Hmmm, that may be something we have in common. I sure tend to be in a better mood when Dr. Stone is here.
We had another moment Friday night. I’m pretty sure it might have even turned into a profound one had we not been interrupted by my mother. The way her expressive eyes were looking at me, I just knew she wanted it as much as I did, despite shooting me down days earlier.
Maisy finishes dressing and drags me to the front door.
I laugh, but then she gets upset when I try to pull her back.
I do the sign for food.
She stomps her foot and pouts, not giving up her spot by the door.
I go to the dining room table and sift through the many many drawings we’ve been using to communicate when signs won’t do. I bring two back to the door and show her. The first one is of us eating at the table. The second is of the schoolhouse—one of many Maisy has drawn these past few days.
I point to the first one, then the second.
She seems to understand, and, although not happy, she shuffles to the kitchen and sits at the bar.
I take my time making pancakes because school doesn’t start for an hour. After we eat, I try to convey to her that I need to get ready. She wants nothing to do with it and goes to stand by the front door. I point to myself and do the sign for bathing, then pull out my phone and raise my brows.
There’s a game on my phone that she likes to play. It’s the only thing that keeps her occupied while I need to do things she can’t participate in. Like showering. Or shitting. And she’s only allowed to play it during those times.
She still sulks but takes the phone anyway and starts playing.
After I’m done getting ready, and she brushes her teeth faster than ever, I show her the school picture again and start to walk through the house, away from the front door. She’s confused, but quickly understands when she sees my car in the garage.
She takes a few steps toward the car, stops cold, and runs back into the house. Damn, this was what I was afraid of, that I’d have to drag her kicking and screaming. But after her display of excitement, I was sure I wouldn’t have to worry about it. She reappears a moment later carrying her stuffed cat. That old thing is her security blanket.
I smile and open the back door to the car, her gateway to our first outing. We haven’t stepped foot out the front door since she arrived—if you don’t count the trip to the audiologist and the time she almost got run over. It’s the longest I’ve ever gone without leaving my house. I haven’t run since Thursday. Haven’t worked in a week. Dad has been amazing, stepping back into the role he only recently vacated. He hasn’t pressured me in the slightest. But I’m looking forward to going out to the winery this morning, even if it’s only for a few hours.
At the school, there is a line for drop off. But I park and walk Maisy inside. As soon as we go through the main doors, I see Ellie waiting. She looks relieved, as if maybe she thought we wouldn’t show.
Our eyes connect. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since the almost-kiss on Friday. Did she somehow become more beautiful over the weekend? Her hair is pulled back into a clip, tendrils falling to her chin. The blue blouse she’s wearing matches her eyes, and her black skirt clings to her hips. I’ve never seen her in anything but slacks. I’m tempted to stare at her legs, but that would mean popping this magical bubble we seem to be surrounded by where the world falls away and it’s just us—staring… wanting…feeling.
When she finally shifts her gaze to Maisy, her lips curve into a smile as my daughter sees her and runs over.
A woman standing by Ellie’s side says and signs, “Mr. Montana, I presume?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Mrs. Kasey. I’ll be Maisy’s teacher for the rest of the spring.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, hoping I got the signs right.
Ellie taps Mrs. Kasey’s shoulder and starts signing. Mrs. Kasey interprets, “Maisy will spend three hours in Mrs. Kasey’s class, then she’ll meet with the speech therapist, then the four of us will convene for our first IEP meeting. Is noon good for you? We don’t want to overwhelm Maisy on her first day by doing too much, but it’s important that we get started with a plan.”
“Noon. Right.” I look down at my daughter then back at Ellie. “Do you think she knows I’ll come back for her?”
“If she doesn’t, she will soon enough. This will be the routine five days a week.”
Right. Everything is about repetition.
I lower to my knees and get on Maisy’s level. “I’ll see you later,” I say and sign, feeling guilty that she probably doesn’t understand. I should have brought drawings showing her coming home after school.
At this point, though, I’m not sure anything I say to her will mean much. She’s excited. Her eyes dart around to the other kids funneling in through the front door.
I look up at the two women. “Do I just leave?”
“We’ll take good care of her,” Mrs. Kasey says. And with that, Ellie takes Maisy’s hand, and the three of them turn and walk away.
The father part of me is upset that Maisy is walking away so easily. Aren’t kids supposed to have separation anxiety about going to school? Then again, she hasn’t even known me for a week. And at this point, she seems much more attached to Ellie.
I don’t even know if my own daughter likes me.
Maisy doesn’t turn around. But Ellie does. She shoots me a look over her shoulder. A look that communicates she understands every emotion swirling through my head right now. She smiles and nods before the trio disappears around the corner.
I blow out a breath. Maisy has only been with me for six days. A better part of that time has been spent with her angry at me because she can’t understand. And most of that time, I’ve been frustrated with her. With myself. But now, standing here after she walks away, I find myself feeling like a part of me is missing.
~ ~ ~
Today has been busy. Catching up on work. Maisy’s IEP meeting. And then… wow, what a transformation. After only one morning in Pre-K, Maisy is a different little girl. It’s as if her whole world has changed. She came home knowing more signs than I thought a four-year-old could learn in a day. Ellie said she was bright. I didn’t realize just how bright until now.
Maisy asked about Ellie after we came home. Or rather, she pointed to the picture we use when ‘talking’ about Ellie. It’s evident she wants to see her. At the IEP meeting, Ellie told me that between Pre-K and speech therapy, there wasn’t time for the two of them to meet. She didn’t want Maisy to be overwhelmed on her first day. And while Maisy did seem upset earlier that she couldn’t see her, she ate her lunch and immediately went down for a nap.
The doorbell rings promptly at 4pm.
It’s Ellie. She’s swapped the black skirt for a pair of jeans, though she still wears the same blue blouse.
She walks in and looks around.
“She’s sleeping,” I sign.
“Big day,” she signs back.
I love that we can already have short signing conversations without texting.
“The school is amazing,” I say. “She seemed to love it. I told her she’d go back after one sleep, and she was excited. Although I worry what will happen come Saturday when she doesn’t get to go and I can’t explain to her what a weekend is.”
“She’ll learn,” she signs.
A noise from behind me is all the warning I get before Maisy dashes by and wraps her arms around Ellie. It always hurts a bit when she does this. I’m glad she’s bonding with Ellie, but at the same time, I long for those little arms to wrap around me.
Ellie senses my pain. She’s very good at reading me. It makes me wonder if she knows just how much I’m drawn to her. How I think about her all the time. How, other than Maisy, she is who occupies my thoughts. Thoughts about how close we came to kissing the other day. About just how much I want to kiss her. About how I want that and more. How after only a week, I can’t imagine her not being part of my life.
Maisy takes Ellie’s hand and drags her to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and getting out the milk. She does the sign for milk, then she points to a cup on the counter and does the sign for cup. Then she does the sign for drink.
I go to pour her a glass of milk, but she doesn’t seem to want it, leaving me confused.
She continues to pull Ellie from room to room, enthusiastically pointing to things then doing the corresponding signs. My jaw drops. I know she learned new signs. But this… this is fucking astonishing. She knows signs for some barnyard animals. Pieces of furniture. Clothing. Even a few colors.
Ellie and I share a look as Maisy continues through every room, labeling what she can. Ellie’s eyes flood with tears. I’m not the only one overcome with emotion as the floodgates of Maisy’s life open and her world begins to make sense.
In her bedroom, Maisy does signs for toys, bed, and window. She stiffens, and points to the bathroom, skips across the room and disappears behind the door.
I turn to Ellie. “My kid is a fucking genius.”
A tear slips from her eye. Her expression tells me she’s in full agreement with my statement. Her head shakes from side to side as if she’s never seen such a profound awakening before. Maybe she hasn’t.
When I reach up and wipe a tear from her cheek, she grabs my hand and holds it against her. Our eyes lock onto each other, and I’m swept up with emotion when I lean in and lightly touch my lips to hers. Her soft, salty, inviting lips. I pull back slightly to see if she minded.
She most definitely did not.
Our bodies press together as our mouths collide more forcefully this time. With nothing between us, I can feel the thud of her racing heart. Or maybe it’s mine that’s pounding. Her hands weave through my hair then settle onto the back of my neck, holding me tightly against her. With one hand on her back and the other cupping the side of her head, I deepen the kiss. Our tongues tangle together, passion spearing my entire being as if this is my first kiss.
In a way, it is. Obviously it’s not the first, but it’s the most meaningful. The most anticipated. And definitely the most wanted.
The skin on the back of her neck pebbles beneath my touch. She rises up on her toes and leans even more heavily into me. I walk her backwards and press her against the wall, allowing us to be even closer. My dick comes to life when a throaty mewl escapes her. I’m not sure if it’s been five seconds or sixty. All I know is I want more. I need more.
The magical moment ends when I hear the toilet flush. I step away, even though it’s the last thing I want to do, and point to the bathroom. As Maisy appears, Ellie wipes her lower lip and blushes. Maisy grabs Ellie’s hand, oblivious to what went on in her absence, and continues her way through the house, labeling everything she can.
Ellie turns, looks at me, and smiles.
Standing back and watching them together, I wonder if my life will ever be the same.
I fucking hope not.