I watch her bite it, and slowly, she releases the swollen skin from between her teeth.
She steps away from my hold and starts chattering with Zoey about quickly redoing her braid.
I stand in the hallway a moment, watching them and listening. Zoey’s voice is light and sweet, and Alice is reassuring and calm as she pulls off the princess baseball cap and uses her fingers to smooth out Zoey’s braid. She quickly works the hair into this new complicated thing and then replaces the hat.
“Love it?” Alice asks, lifting Zoey up so she can inspect the entire hairdo in the mirror.
“Love it,” Zoey says. “Now can we eat?”
Alice meets my eyes and shrugs.
“I could do with some grub,” Leo calls from the living room.
I shake my head and grin. “I guess that means we’re eating.”
8
We order sandwiches from a place up the street, and Leo offers to walk over to pick them up.
Morris nods and gives Leo some cash.
“Would you mind grabbing juice or water for Zoey?” I ask.
“’Course not,” he says. He gives Zoey a smile. “You wanna walk over with me? You can pick out your own drink.”
My stomach clenches at that. This kid is a stranger to me, and while I appreciate that his intentions are probably pure…the key word there is probably.
Before I can put together some kind of polite excuse, Morris claps Leo on the shoulder.
“You don’t have kids or a girlfriend, do ya, kid?” He doesn’t say it in a shitty way. If I’m not mistaken, Morris almost sounds fond of Leo.
Leo’s face flames red, and he shakes his head and shrugs. “Why? What’d I say?”
Morris gives me a wink and pulls Leo a little closer. “My guests here have had a lot of excitement with strangers this morning, and even though you and I know we’re the good guys—” Morris’s voice holds a subtle note of warning, making it clear he is telling Leo he’d damn well better be one of the good ones “—I think Zoey probably would rather stay close to her mom for a while.”
Leo looks at me and then Morris, as if it finally is hitting him that maybe it would be weird that he offered to take my six-year-old child out into the world alone.
I love Leo a little bit in that moment. The fact that he is part of a world where a young man offering to take a little girl he doesn’t know to pick up lunch isn’t scary, isn’t potentially dangerous.
I envy him that innocence. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t think through the risks of any situation eight thousand different ways before diving in. I only hope I can create a bubble for Zoey where she can move freely through her world with fears and dangers being much easier to spot. Where the fear and danger don’t come from within her own home. From the man who is supposed to love and protect her.
Eventually.
I nod at Morris, and Leo mumbles an apology.
“I didn’t think… I didn’t mean…”
“No, no,” I reassure him. “It’s okay. Thanks, Leo.”
Zoey is standing by quietly, listening intently to the adults, and I don’t want to draw any more attention to the conversation we’ve been having.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I say. “Morris, would you mind if we kick off our shoes and sit down for a bit?”
“Sit down for a bit? Nah, nah, nah. We’re going to get you settled and comfortable.” Morris grabs the remote control to the TV and gives it a look. “Now, have a seat anywhere you like, little lady.”
Zoey peers down at her stained dress. “But what about the juice?”
Morris stares at me in confusion. “Is it dry?”
Zoey nods, but doesn’t move otherwise.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure the couch has had worse on it.” He looks at me when he says those words and grimaces, knowing what he said wasn’t meant for young ears or even mine.
I throw Zoey a look, trying not to laugh at Morris, and she nods, then walks to the front door and slips off her shoes. She pads back to the long sectional couch and sits down on the edge, smoothing her dress over the cushions.
Morris hasn’t made much progress with the TV. “Fu—fudge,” he says. “It’s been a while since I watched any TV here. I don’t stay here all that often, and when I do… Well, I have all the streaming services, if you’re allowed to watch… I’ll figure this out.”
Zoey’s eyes are wide as she watches Morris try to turn the TV on and then off again.
None of the buttons seem to respond, no matter in what order he presses them. The seconds stretch into minutes as Morris tries and tries to get the remote to work.
Her little face is perfectly still and patient.
“I’ll be…” Morris mutters. He throws me a look. “I’m not much for this stuff. TV. Technology.”
“Mama,” Zoey says so quietly I almost can’t hear her.
“Yeah, baby?” I walk over to the couch and stroke her hair.
Zoey motions for me to move closer. I bring my ear near her face so she can whisper. “Is he mad?” she asks. “I don’t have to watch TV.”
I look at Morris to see if he’s heard Zoey’s question. I can immediately tell he has.
His expression transforms before my eyes from sweet confusion to irritation. It’s a metamorphosis I know all too well. And goddamn, it’s not something I’m going to let happen again. Whether he’s saved my ass today or not, he has a temper, and I’m not going to stay here and let this happen to us. Not again. They always start out so goddamn charming.
I’m shocked at the rush of disappointment that washes over me. For a minute—just a minute—I really let myself believe Morris could be different. That some other kind of man exists. Not just Jerrys or versions of Jerry with bigger arms and bikes.
“Mad?” Morris barks, his voice loud after Zoey’s whisper. “I’m mad that I can’t seem to operate a simple remote control. I’m smarter than I seem right now,” he says, shaking his head. He holds the remote out to us. “Any chance Princess Zoey can run this thing? Kids always seem to know how to do everything better than adults.”
Zoey looks at me with a question in her eyes, but I have to look away.
He’s not mad. Not at her, anyway. Not at the blameless reality of life where things just happen. He’s not mad.
We both expected it, and now that I know he’s not angry at my daughter, that he’s not going to blow up and make her feel guilty for just being there, I don’t know what to say or what to do.
“I can do it,” she tells him softly, her eyes looking down at her socks.
“Well, sure you can, darlin’. Let’s just make sure it’s all right with your mama.” Morris holds the remote like it is made of glass and he is afraid he’s going to break it. He flips it over and presses the button, and then gives it a shake. “I think the battery might be dead…” he mutters. “I mean, I really thought…”
I lift my head to look at him, hoping that every emotion running through my body in that moment isn’t written plain on my face.
Surprise. Shock. Gratitude. Relief.