“Come, give me a big hug,” I say, spreading my arms wide as far as I can, and she snuggles against my chest, resting her head on me. She smells like dreams and rainbows, the way all kids should smell.
Behind her, I notice that Lilly has walked out of the room, probably stirred by the commotion. She is smiling as she’s looking at us. I close my eyes, inhaling my daughter’s sweet scent. Then, she lets go of me.
The day needs to start, whether I’d like it to or not.
“Bye, daddy!” Marley shouts, waving at me, as I grab my phone and car keys and head out the door, more confused about everything than ever before.
Chapter Seven
Lilly
Three days have passed since that night.
That night.
Dominic and I haven’t spoken about it again. Why would we? Everything is clear. At least, it should be. It probably ended in the best way it could. Anything else and I could have ended up without a job. The thought of that makes me shiver.
I look up at Marley, running through the playground with a few of her friends, who happened to be here at the same time as us, with their moms. The moms all know each other, and they also know I’m not the mom. So, I’m not really in the group, where they bring coffee and muffins and exchange gossip, while watching the kids.
To be honest, they invited me a few times, but I’d feel like an impostor somehow. Marley isn’t my daughter. I never had kids. Heck, I only just lost my virginity. What could we possibly have in common?
At some point, they just stopped inviting me and now, we just politely nod at one another in passing, while the kids play.
I check my watch. Today is the day I go to see dad. Some days, I feel like I haven’t seen him in months, while it’s only been a week or two. It’s strange how your mind views the passage of time, relative to what is happening to you.
At that very moment, my phone rings. I rummage through my bag and take it out. I smile at the name and the photo.
“Hey, mom,” I greet her as soon as I pick up.
“Sweetie,” her voice sounds as it always has, warm and welcoming, like a piece of warm apple pie on a rainy afternoon. When I told her this once, she laughed. Then she hugged me and took out the apple pie from the fridge, which made us laugh even harder.
That was a rare occasion when I heard her laugh like that. With dad gone… well, gone but not really gone. It’s difficult to explain.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” she wonders.
“No,” I smile, not taking my eyes off Marley, who doesn’t seem to have a care in the world. And I know it’s all because of Dominic, because of the father that he is to her, the father that he will always be.
The thought makes me happy for her, because every child deserves that. At the same time, however, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been treated unfairly in that department, because my own dad, who would do everything for me just like Dominic, was taken away from me. It always saddens me, it makes me angry but I don’t want to be angry right now.
“I’m just on the playground with Marley,” I explain, leaning against the bench, which digs into my back, but this is the comfiest seat around.
“Oh, that sweet little child,” my mom gushes, as always.
My mom has a lot of unfulfilled wishes. Among others, it is that we are a family again, where she lives with her husband under the same roof, and he is freed from the dirt that has been smeared onto his name. We all live for that day. We all fight for that day as best as we can.
Yet, there is one wish my mom never admitted to out loud, and that is to have had more kids. That would have happened, of course, if dad had stayed around. I was little, and I too would have loved a brother or a sister. Even both, but it simply wasn’t meant to be.
“You are so lucky to be her nanny,” my mom points out, although this isn’t the first time she’s said it. “Imagine if she were some spoiled brat.”
“Yes,” I chuckle. “You know that I was actually afraid that this might be the case and that I wouldn’t be able to handle her, but she turned out to be an angel.”
“Just like you were, sweetie,” my mom says. Then adds quickly, with a chuckle. “Not to say that you aren’t now.”
I laugh. “What? Are you saying now that I grew up, I’m no longer the sweet angel I was?”
My joke makes her laugh. “Of course not,” she assures me.