Page 41 of Big Balls
Zoe hands her the spatula. “The secret is to wait until little bubbles come up in the batter. Watch.”
Zoe pours a little bit of the pancake batter into the pan and they both watch it like it’s an oracle, their heads almost touching. “See?” Zoe points at the pancake.
“Ah-ha!” Katy yells and tries to get the pancake onto the spatula. Even I can tell it’s not going to work with the way she’s wriggling it around.
Sure enough, it breaks, and I watch Katy’s face crumple. “Hey, let’s finish cooking this one and we can try another,” Zoe says, smiling widely at Katy’s pouting face and quivering lip.
“But this one is ruined. It’s not any good now.” Katy crosses her arms in front of her chest.
Zoe takes the spatula in hand and flips the broken pieces over, then proceeds to break them up into even smaller bites. “It’s going to taste good.”
Katy pouts harder. “No way. It’s a mess. Why did you make it an even bigger mess?”
Zoe pokes her in her little ribs, and she collapses in a heap of vaguely sulky giggles. “We made pancake noodles. They’ll still taste like a regular pancake, but they look like fat spaghetti. See?”
Katy frowns at whatever’s in the pan. “Are you sure about this?”
Zoe smiles and gives my little girl a quick squeeze. “Have I ever lied to you? Pancake noodles are the best.”
It looks like a mess on the plate, but judging by the little moaning sounds Zoe makes when she eats them, it must taste divine. I sigh inwardly. It seems as if this entire morning is going to be one long batch of aching and dirty thoughts.
“Go ahead,” Zoe says, pushing the plate toward Katy. “My mom used to make these every weekend when I was about your age.”
Katy plucks a little pancake noodle and puts it in her mouth, then makes an exaggerated noise of approval. She stares over at me and licks her lips, smearing chocolate all around her mouth again.
“You were clean for what, like five minutes?”
Zoe shakes her head. “More like two. Go wash up, chocolate face.”
“Are you two going to be kissing again when I come back out?”
I freeze, even though I was already halfway across the kitchen to grab Zoe and kiss all of her thoughts right out of her head.
“Kissing?” My voice is too high, definitely nervous sounding. “Why did you ask about kissing?”
Katy and Zoe both give me the most exaggerated look of impatience. It’s almost identical, down to the sneering nose wrinkle. “Daddy, I’m cute, not stupid.”
My mouth goes dry. How on earth am I going to explain this one to my daughter?
She was so little when Lisa died that there’s no way she actually remembers her. I’ve told her stories about her mother, and she’s seen pictures of her plenty of times. But to Katy, her mother is nothing more than a name and a photograph. She isn’t real to her in any sense of the word.
I swallow hard. “I know you’re not stupid, Katy. It’s grown-up stuff though, so worry about yourself and go wash up like Miss Zoe said.”
Katy gives me a full helping of side-eye and stomps off to clean up again.
“Well, that went well,” Zoe says, her words dripping with sarcasm. “If this is going to be a real thing between us, you’re going to have to figure out how to talk to her about it sooner rather than later.”
I nod. I can hear the truth in her words, but my hands are suddenly clammy, and I know I’m just not ready.
“I will.”
Zoe stares at me, her eyes sharp. “But?”
I reach for my disgusting protein drink and take another chalky sip. “Not yet, okay? Can we go slow with this?”
Zoe sighs. “I feel like we’re way past slow already, Ethan.”
“Yeah,Ethan.” Katy pops around the corner and stares at me like she’s never seen me before. She must have left the water running so she could sneak up on us and eavesdrop on our conversation. I’m really screwed when this girl gets a few more years on her.
