Page 94 of Role Play
“Yeah,” Dakota agrees. “And I’m not allowed to play in the living room because I might mess it up. But I like this better.” She bounces on her knees on the bed, beaming. “It’s pretty and fun!”
I turn away, needing a moment to compose myself. The image of my daughter playing quietly with white toys in a white room, careful not to disturb the perfect staging of Hannah’s showcase apartment, makes me want to punch a wall. But that won’t help anyone, least of all Dakota.
“Why don’t you help Dakota get settled?” Sora suggests, noticing my demeanor. “I’ll make some lunch. Are sandwiches okay?”
“Sandwiches sound great,” I say, grateful for the change of subject. “What kind were you thinking?”
“I was going to make peanut butter and jelly, but…” She makes a face, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’m not exactly a gourmet chef. Grilled cheese is pretty much the peak of my culinary skills.”
“Grilled cheese!” Dakota exclaims happily. “With the cheese all melty and gooey?”
Sora laughs. “That’s the plan. With tomato soup…from a can?”
“Perfect,” I say. “We’ll be down soon to get the rest of the things from the car.”
Sora nods and heads downstairs, leaving me alone with Dakota, who is now carefully arranging Mr. Flops on his new throne—the center of the purple comforter.
“I like her, Daddy,” Dakota announces, smoothing the bunny’s ears. “She made my room pretty.”
“She’s very nice,” I agree, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Is she your girlfriend?”
Like a lasso, the question wraps me up and drags me back to reality. “No, Koda. She’s just a friend who’s letting us stay with her.”
Dakota fixes me with a look that’s eerily reminiscent of Hannah at her most skeptical. “But you like her.”
It’s not a question. My four-year-old is stating a fact that I’ve been trying to dance around for weeks.
“I do like her,” I admit. “She’s a good friend.”
Dakota seems satisfied with this answer, turning her attention back to arranging her stuffed animals on the bed. I watch her for a moment, marveling at how resilient kids can be. Just two weeks ago, her mother was planning to ship her off to boarding school across the country. Now she’s settling into a new home with barely a hiccup.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Koda?”
“If you marry Sora, will she be my new mommy?”
“No one’s getting married,” I say firmly. “And you already have a mommy who loves you very much. Remember what we talked about? Mommy’s on a trip, but she’ll be back.”
Dakota nods, but she doesn’t look entirely convinced. “I know. But Mommy doesn’t make pretty rooms like Sora.”
I have to bite back a laugh at that. Hannah’s aesthetic runs more toward minimalist luxury—lots of white furniture and abstract art that costs more than most people’s cars. Not exactly a little girl’s dream.
“Everyone’s good at different things,” I tell her. “Mommy’s good at…other stuff.”
Nothing comes to mind at the moment.No.I shut that thought down hard. I promised myself I wouldn’t badmouthHannah to Dakota, no matter how much it feels warranted in the moment.
“Come on,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand. “Let’s go help Sora with lunch, then we can bring in the rest of your things.”
Dakota hops off the bed, taking my hand. “Okay. Can I show Sora my princess dresses? Do you think she’ll like them?”
“I’m sure she will,” I say, guiding her toward the door.
“And my puzzles? And my tiara? And my?—”
“One thing at a time, Koda.” I lead her down the stairs. “Try not to bother Sora too much, okay? If you need something like a snack or water, come find me. Sora isn’t at your beck and call.”
