Page 20 of Mind Pucked

“Well, we’ll play with these, and then I’ll be helping her to do some work on colors and the alphabet. If not, then that’s okay too. I was also wondering if we could go to the park. I actually brought some birdseed that we could feed to the ducks.”

She reaches down to pull out a big bag of birdseed to show me, and I try to stifle a laugh. She’s way overprepared for this. But who am I to judge? I’d much rather that than someone who doesn’t give a shit.

But she’s almost too perfect. It has me looking her up and down for a flaw, but instead all I notice are her cute little curves.

I turn around and head toward the playroom. I don’t want Amelia to see my reaction to looking at her like that. I need to get myself under control, and fast, or this is going to be the worst working interview ever.

I get down to Hayden’s level, placing my hand on her shoulder. “You did a good job cleaning up, but can you put the Barbiesaway too?” I ask her as I catch her distracted, playing with her two favorite Barbies, nearly mutilated from the overplay.

I make a mental note to get her some new ones next time I have a moment. Or maybe it’s something I can get Amelia to take her to do. Give her some money and send her to the mall so Hayden can pick them out herself.

Hayden does as I say and then runs to give Amelia a hug against her leg.

Amelia leans over and pats and rubs her back, and I notice that she’s careful to give Hayden affection but not any more than she might want.

That’s right, Quinn told her about Hayden’s behavior. The two of them have interacted before at the hockey games.

Well, she seems to know what she’s doing. I should be able to take a deep breath of relief, but there’s still some tension within me that I can’t explain.

“So, Hayden, are you ready to have fun today?” Amelia asks. I notice that while Amelia is using a friendly voice, she’s not using baby talk or anything like that. She’s talking to Hayden like an equal.

Hell, maybe I’ll be learning some stuff from her too.

“Yes! Did you bring any new toys?”

“I did. Do you want to see?” Amelia asks her, getting Hayden all excited.

I interrupt this for a moment, tapping Amelia gently on the shoulder. That scent of hers walks up my nose again, and I holdmy breath. “I’ll just be hanging out in the house. Pretend like I’m not here unless you really need something. I’m just observing.”

Amelia nods her understanding, and I walk away, feeling like a stalker. Maybe I should’ve just let her do her thing. But it would be weird if I backed out now.

I watch as Amelia takes Hayden over to her bag of goodies and explains what everything is. Each item is laid out for Hayden to see, so she knows what the day will be like.

I watch Hayden carefully. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so relaxed with a stranger. Even when she’s playing with other kids, there’s normally this tension in her body.

Maybe all this time what she needed was someone who went to school for this.

Amelia has Hayden choose one of the animal puppets, a zebra, and Amelia picks up a giraffe.

The two of them are pretty cute as they make the animals have a conversation with each other.

A lot of it is nonsense, the same nonsense I experience when I try to play with Hayden, but Amelia just goes with it. It’s like she always knows what she’s trying to say and never hesitates. I remember Quinn saying she was like some kind of kid whisperer. Now, witnessing it for myself, I can hardly believe it.

Again, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m bored. And hungry.” Hayden’s little voice drifts to me, and I realize she’s done playing with the puppets. She’s already discarded the zebra in the middle of the floor.

I’m about to step in when Amelia stands up and points to the puppet. “Okay. Let’s clean the puppets up so we don’t have a mess later or lose any of them.”

Without further prompting, Hayden does just that and then comes back to Amelia. “Can I have a PBJ?”

Amelia looks up at me for one moment, and I nod my approval.

Amelia puts her hand reassuringly against Hayden’s back and starts leading her to the kitchen. “Sure. Why don’t you help me make one?”

I focus on releasing the tension in all my muscles and try to put my focus elsewhere. My eyes keep drifting back over to them, as if they might need supervision while making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

It’s ridiculous. It makes me wonder about how much worry my wife was dealing with before she passed. Did she ever feel like this? Constant concern that something was going to happen? Or do I have some unresolved trauma? More than I thought?

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