Page 11 of Mind Pucked

And Hayden actually waves to her. Honest to God waves to her.

My heart nearly stops, and it takes everything in me not to slam the door in Amelia’s face just out of shock.

I go over to where Hayden is still sitting, playing with some of her toys—a couple of Barbies that look like they’ve been electrocuted.

“Amelia’s my friend.”

“She is?” I ask her, picking up a Barbie and making her dance.

Hayden laughs, that cute little belly jiggling, as she does only for me.

“Yes, Daddy. From hockey.”

So, she cares enough to remember her. Well, now I definitely have to hire Amelia.

I get down on the floor with every intention of playing with her, even if sometimes I have no idea what game we’re playing. I just try and let her lead. It’s the way all of the parenting books taught me. The ones I had to get when I realized I was really going to be doing this all alone. I bet Lyla would’ve been naturally good at this. She probably would’ve been able to read Hayden’s mind. But, Hayden has me, and I do my best. Better than my best, because she deserves it.

I go to pick up one of her Barbies and she looks up at me, a toothy grin spreading across her face. I try not to laugh, but itreminds me of the Cheshire cat. This is how I always know she wants something from me. And I doubt I’ll say no.

“Daddy?” she asks, beaming at me, her hands clasped.

I school my face. “Hayden?”

She lashes out at me with her hand playfully, hating when I tease her like that. “I’m bored with my Barbies. That’s what I want to tell you—I’m bored.”

“Bored? Well…” I look toward the back door that leads out into the yard. I’ve spent a lot of time over the past couple months putting together some new toys for out there, so that when it was warm she’d have plenty to do.

She may be a little too young for some of it still, but it’s a shame to let it go to waste on a day like this. “It’s really nice outside. Do you want to go outside, Hayden?”

She nods vigorously and puts her hands in the air, clapping them together and then putting them in the air again. The signal that tells me she wants to be picked up.

For the past two years, we’ve developed a language all our own. I don’t know if other children and their parents do this. I’m sure some kids have symbols for things or hand gestures, especially before they can talk. Hayden still talks baby talk with some words, but she can also talk really well.

But sometimes, she prefers what she and I have—she likes it when I can just understand what she wants.

I get up and reach for her, lifting her up into my arms in one swing. “Wheee!” she squeals, as if I’m taking her on some kind of amazing ride. “Piggyback?” she asks.

I roll my eyes and then give in anyway. I pull her onto my back and she hangs on around my neck. I grab ahold of her legs and start jogging toward the patio door.

“And off we go.”

“Yay!”

When we get out there, I point out all the options. I got her cornhole, ring toss, stuff for volleyball, sidewalk chalk, and even a full playground set.

“Swing. Then wing toss.”

I smile, actually dreading the day when she can say the wordringproperly. For now, it means that she’s still small. Still my little girl.

I get her into the swing and start pushing her, but only a little. She always acts like she’s scared at first. Eventually, she’ll beg to go higher and then for me to let her do it by herself.

I remember when she was still too little to be in the normal swing. When I would put her in the baby swings and she would just cry unless I pushed it just enough to rock her.

If Lyla was still here, our lives would be so different right now. Firstly, there would be no nanny. Maybe the occasional babysitter so we could have a beautiful night together. I would woo her with romantic dates—it’s something I used to love to do with her. And the way she would just light up for them…I don’t know if anyone else could possibly make me feel the way she did. And even though Hayden was so little when she left us for good, I feel like Hayden would be different too.

Hayden is so shy. And especially when it comes to women, she just doesn’t feel a bond with any of them. She doesn’t trustanyone. Just the fact that she cared enough to say that she remembered Amelia is a big deal, but it also kind of worries me. Because there’s no replacement. No one could ever take the place of Hayden’s mother.

Lyla was something else. Hardworking. Beautiful. She knew how to have a good time too. And now, the little girl she gave birth to, the daughter she loved so much…she’s growing up and Lyla can’t see her do that. It gets me. Every time I make a mark on the wall where Hayden’s grown just a little bit more, and her mother’s not here to see it, it makes me sick to my stomach.

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