“Of course, I don’t keep things from my wife.”
He did one of those childish mimicking things with his mouth, which I ignored. I’m going back inside to my wife and kids while he’s going home to an empty apartment, and I still fucking win.
EPILOGUE
JOLENE
“What did little demon do now?”
“Did you say, Damon?” If that’s what you heard, then yes, that’s what I said.
“If you must know, your daughter decided that she is Picasso.”
“I don’t follow.”
“She dipped her hand in paint and painted the wall in the playroom.” Let me see how you talk your way around to her being right this time.
“I’ll go check it out; it can’t be that bad.” He left while I took a sip of my coffee and side-eyed the little hellion who was sitting with her face toward the wall and her arms folded.
She’d just spent the last ten minutes telling me how mean I was and how she was going to tell her Daddy. I had to remind her that I wasn’t afraid of him or her. I heard the ding of the elevator and rolled my eyes.
“It’s just as I thought; it’s not that bad. If they can’t make paint that can be easily cleaned, it’s not her fault.”
“That’s a reach even for you.”
“We could have a mural painted around it. Don’t they have parents who do that stuff to keep track of their children’s growth and stuff?”
“No, Damon, it’s not like measuring your height inside a door with a pencil, you know what? Never mind, and don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare what?”
“I can see you out the side of my eye. Don’t talk to her, and don’t promise her you’ll get her out of this.”
I raised four kids, now I have eleven, and out of all of them, ten have my temperament, but this one, I have no idea where it came from. “Daddy!”
“Yes, princess.” He shrugged his shoulders at me.
“Go potty.” He looked at me, and I scowled at him.
“You know she always does this?” I hissed at him.
“But the book says.”
“Fine, you may go potty, but come right back here.” She rolled out of her chair and ran down the hallway.
She was gone way too long for a pee, but I figured maybe she was going number two for real, and I started to feel guilty. That’s until my mother-in-law came through the backdoor with her phone to her ear, and my kid came out of the bathroom with the house phone to her ear, all lopsided.
She called her grandmother another one of her enablers. Damon had brought some idiot woman here who taught the kids how to dial nine-one-one and remember their address, among other things. She’s the only one out of the bunch who uses the phone and she knows which numbers are saved in the phone and in which order.
Her brother never has to call anyone because they tend to listen. If it were any one of them, they would’ve been giving me hugs and kisses and trying to get me to forgive them. Not this one.
She’s stubborn, opinionated and likes having her own way too much. If he hadn’t come home when he did, she would’ve sat there until he did. “Hi, guys. Hi, my little pumpkin. Nana came; now, what is it you want to show me?”
She gave the phone to her dad, took her grandma’s hand, and walked out of the room like she wasn’t on punishment. I started to call her back, but her dad stopped me. “Babe, how many walls did you draw on as a kid? I know I did my fair share.”
“That’s always your excuse when she does something? How come her brothers aren’t getting into the same things?”
“Because they’re too busy digging up my land looking for shit.”