Page 5 of Single Dad Dilemma

With a loud gasp, I pull myself from the memory, forcing my lungs to work properly. Margo hears the noise, and she comes running in.

“Daddy, what you doing?”

I wipe the tears from my eyes that I didn’t realize had formed. “Nothing, honey. I’m just taking a little break fromunpacking. Your show over?” I ask, still unable to look at her, in fear that she’ll see something is wrong with me and worry.”

“No, I thirsty.”

“I’ll pour you some milk and bring it to you in a minute, okay? Go watch your show.”

“Okay, Dada,” she says, turning and running back out. I hear the moment she’s no longer in the kitchen, her feet now pounding against the soft carpet instead of slapping again the tile of the kitchen.

I open my eyes and force myself to take in the kitchen before me, reminding me that I’m here, not in that car, watching my wife die before my eyes. I take inventory of everything, a way I’ve learned to handle these episodes. I see the oak cabinets with their black granite tops. I see the built-in oven and white tiled floor. I see the boxes I still have to unpack on the floor, next to the stack of empty boxes I’ve already put away. As I list off each thing I see, my heart rate drops a little more until it’s finally returned to normal. As my heart slows, so does my breathing, and I’m no longer feeling the dizziness. I finally have the strength to push myself up. Slowly, I walk to the fridge and get the milk, testing out my balance. I pour some into a cup and take it to her in the living room, where she’s still in front of the TV.

“Thanks, Daddy.” She’s not taking her eyes off the screen.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, heading back for the kitchen. I place my hands on the counter and hang my head. I just have to focus on the here and now. Forget the past. One foot in front of the other. I have to remember to focus on making it one day at a time.

With everything feeling back to normal, I get back to work with unpacking and putting everything away. When I finish up in the kitchen, I go to join Margo on the couch. She’s donewith her donut, and her milk is gone. She’s lying on the couch, watching TV and falling into her late morning nap.

I can’t take my eyes off her as I watch her slip away into unconsciousness. She’s beautiful, smart, and kind. I wish Kate could see her. She’d be so proud. She looks so much like the two of us mixed together, it isn’t funny. She has my dark curly hair and my dark eyes, but the shape of her face, the roundness of her cheeks, the cute button nose, and pouty lips—that’s all Kate. She’s far too sweet to get any of her looks from me too. Her fight and determination, that’s all me. I am definitely going to have my hands full when she becomes a teenager.

I push that thought away immediately, not looking forward to it in the slightest. I let myself relax, and before I know it, I’m asleep too. Only in my dreams, I’m not in Grand Lakes, Colorado. I’m back in Chicago, in college, and feeling my girl kiss my neck from the passenger side seat.

THREE

Violet

The week passes, and unfortunately, I don’t see Carson or Margo again. Every time the door opens, I look up, hoping to see them walking in, but it never is. Maybe the bakery isn’t going to be a daily thing for them. Maybe it will be like some others in town: just a nice treat here and there. That thought makes me sad. I would like to see them more often and get to know the little girl I see so much of myself in, get to know her father, and become friends so that my friendship with a child doesn’t seem so weird.

I’ve all but given up on seeing them again when the door opens and Margo runs in. “Violet!” she yells, coming to a sudden stop before the counter.

I lean down with a smile. “Hi, Margo. Where you been?”

She motions toward her dad. “Home. He don’t let me leave. I’m a prisoner,” she breathes out, clearly tired of being stuck at home and it makes me laugh.

“Well, you’ve escaped today! What treat do you have in mind?”

“I want cookies and cupcakes and donuts and candy,” she starts listing off.

“Whoa, okay now. Remember what I said?” Carson says from behind her.

She takes a long breath and lets it out slowly. “Just the cupcakes, please.”

I smile and look up at him. “How many?”

“Just a half dozen, please,” he replies, already pulling out his wallet.

“Margo, would you like to pick out the ones you want?”

She runs down to the end of the display cases where the cupcakes are. “I want a blue one, a pink one, a purple one, a green one, yellow, and red.”

“Alright. Good job,” I say, grabbing one of each color.

I put them into a box and then bring them over to the counter. “Is that it? Would you like any coffee?”

“No, that’s all.” He hands over his card to pay.

I swipe it and wait for it to go through. “I bet your mommy is going to love the cupcakes you picked out,” I say with a smile.

---