Page 28 of Wild Eyes
“I was just making my bed. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
“Take a hike!” Cherry squawks at the little girl, and I grimace. Bitching at West is one thing, but at Emmy, it’s just too far.
“Cherry, watch your mouth, young lady,” I snipe back at the parrot.
Emmy approaches the cage eagerly, hands clasped behind her back like she knows better than to reach for her. “I would take a hike, but it’s too dark. Maybe tomorrow.”
Cherry blinks at her, like Emmy’s enthusiasm throws her off as much as it does me.
“Cool bird,” she announces, spinning back my way.
Cherry blinks again, and I bite down on a smile.
“Are you gonna write some music? Maybe if you wrote some music, I could choreograph the dance for you.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never written my own music.”
Her eyes bulge now, and I force my features into a happy expression. “Really?”
“Really,” I say, trying to brush past the embarrassment I feel about this subject.
She sits on my bed and smooths her hands over the top of it. “Why not?”
I lean back against the counter and watch as she glances thoughtfully around the space. It gives me a moment to figure out what to tell her.Because I’m not that talented and everything about my public persona is carefully crafted to make you think I’m a lot cooler than I amprobably isn’t the answer she’s after.
“There are a lot of gifted songwriters who help me with that” is what I settle on.
“I think you should try it,” the girl responds with a firm nod.
“I’ve never done it before.”
“Why not? Have you ever tried?”
“A couple of times. It was fun but not good enough to record.”
“So someone told you no, and you stopped trying?”
I groan, staring up at the ceiling. I didn’t expect an interrogation from a six-year-old to hit this hard. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m saying.”
As if she’s disappointed in me, she makes a low grumbling noise, crosses her arms, and looks me dead in the eye. “My dad always tells me that no means to try harder. So, if I say, ‘Dad, can I have a freezie?’ and he says, ‘No,’ I just try harder. I’m working on a pony now. He keeps saying no, but I’m not giving up.”
I can’t help but laugh. She really is a spitfire. “Does it work?”
Her head wobbles back and forth and a troublemaking little smirk touches her lips. “Sometimes. And sometimes I sneak a freezie and don’t tell him about it. But the times it works make all the other times worth it.”
Her philosophy is so simple. So elementary in its logic. Yet it only drives home what a pushover I’ve been. How I’ve never pressed back, questioned, or raised any complaints. I’ve been obedient beyond compare.
And this is where it’s gotten me.
Facing crippling anxiety and alienated from my family. Or, well, what I thought was my family.
“I’m going to take this advice into consideration, Emmy. I think you might be onto something.”
She smiles and kicks her feet, which don’t quite reach the floor from where she’s sitting. I strum at my bottom lip, not sure what to talk to her about now.
“Does your dad know you’re here?” I ask.
Her tongue pops into her cheek as though she’s weighing her answer. “He told me not to bother you, and I decided to try harder.”
