Page 16 of Of Literature and Lattes
Then, without noticing the shift, Becca read the book he had settled in her lap.The Snowy Day.
Yes, they were board books others might deem too young, he conceded, but Becca finally enjoyed their time together. She read slowly, sounding out each word as if it was new, and hard to chew and swallow. But listening, Jeremy sensed his daughter loved to read. She kept at it with diligence as if a treasure awaited her on each page. That was all that mattered.
Jeremy couldn’t remember the years when he was Becca’s age. In fact, he remembered nothing before the age of ten, but he certainly remembered everything after that. There wasn’t a time his own insufficiencies, real or imagined, hadn’t embarrassed him, so to watch his daughter openly struggle, with no fear, nestled next to him, broke his heart and lifted it at the same time.
They had ended the evening with one of Becca’s favorites, Mo Willem’sMy Friend Is Sad. She read the entire book herself and giggled as Elephant told Piggy about all the wonderful things he’d seen, completely unaware it had been Piggy in disguise each time trying to cheer him up.
Becca had gone to bed pleased and at ease. Jeremy, on the other hand, tossed and turned all night. Becca needed help, and that meant going up against Krista. But it was more than that. He had felt struck anew, despite reading the story countless times before, that Elephant had never seen Piggy clearly, that he never understood what he missed, what was right before him all along. That thought—what was he missing?—led to the uncomfortable questions that always spoke in the still, dark night.
Now he carried his cup into Becca’s room and sat on the edge of her bed.
“Hey, sleepyhead. I gotta get you back to Mom this morning. She said you have a doctor’s appointment.”
“For dyspexa.” Becca’s eyes clouded.
“Dyslexia. And it’s going to be fine, Bug.” He watched her a moment, trying to listen to what wasn’t said. “How do you feel?”
Jeremy winced. Endless social workers and lawyers asked him that same question after his parents died. How at ten, fifteen, or even seventeen could he tell them how he “felt”? He’d had no way to articulate the swirling pressures, colors, emotions, and forces he couldn’t separate and understand, much less name.
Becca gave the answer he expected. The same one he gave all those years ago. She shrugged. Then she pushed herself up against the headboard. She wore her latest Christmas ladybug pj’s, already too small.
“You need new pajamas. I might not be able to wait till next Christmas.” He plucked at the sleeve that, six months before, circled her wrist rather than her forearm.
“Mommy says I grow too much.”
“Sorry, Ladybug. That’s my fault.” He laughed, stood to his full six five, and patted his head.
Becca giggled. “I like it. I’m tallest in my class, taller than the boys too.”
“That’s a good thing. It keeps them in line.” He bent, kissed her forehead, and lifted his coffee cup under her nose. “Smell this.”
Becca inhaled, eyes closed, just like her dad. “Chocolate and cinnamon. It smells sharp, Daddy.”
“You are getting so good. It’s an Ethiopian bean... And you’re right. It pulled too fast today. I underestimated how much beans can dry in a single day. It was perfect yesterday... So what happened?”
“Today the water went through the dry beans too fast to pull the mellow flavors. It’s going to be sour.”
“That’s my girl.” He ruffled her hair. He’d done the same thing last night and had pulled at her ponytail. This time, with her hair long and loose, he made a complete mess and covered her face with a curtain of thick hair—exactly his intention.
“Daddy!”
Jeremy laughed his way out of the room and began breakfast. Becca emerged a few minutes later with an Amelia Bedelia book tucked under her arm.
“Do you want to take that one with you?”
She nodded.
After a quick breakfast and a drive with no traffic, they pulled up to Krista’s with ten minutes to spare. Nevertheless, she was already waiting on the front stoop.
Krista hugged Becca, then tapped her shoulder. “Go inside, honey. I’ll be right in.”
As their daughter turned to go, Jeremy bent down. “Remember that I love you just the way you are—to the moon and back again.”
Becca wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged. He closed his eyes and truly believed he could stay in that moment, quads burning from the squat, forever.
As Becca walked inside, Krista turned back to Jeremy. “Look, I want to take this at my own pace. No jumping ahead here. I’m her mother and I’ll decide what help she needs.”
“Life doesn’t follow clear lines, Krista.”
