Page 36 of Manic

"Really," I confirm, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "Now, how about we head to the grocery store and pick up some stuff for dinner? We can make something special."

Tindra's eyes light up. "Can we make lasagna? And maybe tiramisu for dessert?"

I laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in my chest. "Ambitious, aren't we? But I think we can manage that. Let's go."

As we drive to the store, I can't help but steal glances at Tindra.

She's fidgeting with the radio, humming along to a pop song I don't recognize.

It's moments like these that make my heart ache with how much I love her, how fiercely I want to protect her.

"Mom?" Tindra's voice breaks through my thoughts. "What's he like? Tor, I mean. Er, Dad…I guess. Should I call him Dad?"

I swallow hard, not sure what the right thing to say is. “Uh, well. That’s up to you, sweetie.”

She sucks in her bottom lip, “Do you think he’d like that? I mean, I don’t know a lot about him. What is he like?”

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, choosing my words carefully. "He's... intense. But in a good way. He's passionate about the things and people he cares about. He's loyal, and brave, and..." I trail off, memories of Tor flooding my mind.

"And?" Tindra prompts, her curiosity piqued.

I smile softly. "And he has a gentleness that might surprise you. Especially when it comes to you. By the way, I think he would love it if you called him Dad."

We pull into the parking lot of the grocery store, and I watch as Tindra processes this information.

She's quiet as we grab a cart and head inside, but I can almost see the gears turning in her head.

"Do you think..." she starts, then stops, shaking her head.

"What is it, honey?" I ask, pausing in the produce section.

Tindra takes a deep breath. "Do you think he'll want to be part of my life? Like, really part of it? Like as big of a part of it as you are?"

My heart clenches at the vulnerability in her voice. "Oh, Tindra. He wants nothing more than that. I promise you. I know he’s missed out on so much, and the last thing he wants is to miss out on more."

She nods, seeming to gather strength from my words. "Okay, I’m… I’m excited I guess. But I’m nervous too. Um, let's get the stuff for lasagna."

As we navigate the aisles, picking up ingredients.

Tundra’s been on a big all-natural, organic sort of kick lately.

Apparently, schools are teaching kids now about all the fertilizers and chemicals that certain farmers put on the crops.

I explained to her that they’re pesticides to keep bugs away, preserve the food, but she still pointed out they’re chemicals.

It’s crazy how my little girl who only wanted to eat chicken nuggets and apple slices is now arguing with me about the food we put in our bodies.

She’s turning into a woman and I’m not ready for it.

She picks up the marinara sauce, “I used to love Prego, but now I like RAO’s more Mom. Is that okay?”

I wave my hand in dismissal, “You get whichever sauce you want more. After all, it’s your first time cooking for your dad so this is your show baby girl.”

She mulls over the few flavor options and picks out a couple, grabs some noodles, and we already have the beef.

I think we’ll be out of here in no time as we’re in the spice aisle.

I can't help but marvel at how surreal this all is.

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