Page 47 of Wild Hit
“No buts. Let’s get you upstairs.”
“Talk about party poopers,” she grouches, setting the popcorn bowl on top of an empty pizza box.
The others yap about this and that as I shepherd my wild daughter upstairs. She puts some resistance, dragging her feet at turns or stomping at others, but I manage to get her in her room.
She whirls on me and folds her arms, rising to her full 4 foot 11 height. “Dad, I know about the bees and the flowers.”
I freeze.
“You don’t have to treat me like I’m a baby.”
I swear I’m quaking in my chanclas. My mouth flaps open and closed. Part of me doesn’t want to ask, but the other part needs to understand if we’re on the same page.
“Uhh, what do you mean?” My voice comes out like a squeak at the end.
Marty rolls her eyes. “I know I wasn’t brought by the stork, so if you want to poke Audrey’s flower?—”
“Yeah, that’s enough. Go wash your?—”
“I don’t mind because?—”
“Marty, Ibegyou not to finish that sentence.”
“Then she might stick around.”
Once more, I lose all mobility function other than what it takes for my mouth to flap like a fish.
It really takes me a hot damn minute for my brain to form fully coherent sentences.
“Marty, there will be no flower poking because none of this is for real. Where did you even learn that? Did you bypass the parental controls somehow?”
Her eyes open really wide. “No, the teacher explained this when someone asked where babies come from. She said a bee pokes a flower and that’s how babies start to grow.” Now she huffs. “What I’m saying is that I wouldn’t mind if I got a little sister or a brother. But I’d prefer a sister.”
My shoulders deflate, but I’m not that much calmer than a second ago.
“Marty, Audrey and I aren’t getting married for real, so we can’t give you a sibling. This is all just temporary.”
“So you say.” She shrugs, and as she heads to her bathroom to wash up, she casually says, “But we’ll see about that.”
I can confidently say my beloved child has never scared me before—until this moment. A shiver rises up my spine and once I head back downstairs, I can’t meet anyone’s eyes for the rest of the night.
CHAPTER 19
AUDREY
Occasionally over the last few years, my roommates and I have joked about taking a day off together to do something fun, away from the testosterone fumes that permeate the air at work.
Never figured it would be to help me plan my wedding.
“What is my life?” I ask not for the first time today.
“Hmm.” Rose taps her chin as we look at a store window at the outlets. Even though it’s a weekday, the place is packed with tourists who speak all languages under the blue sky. “Honestly, your life is like the telenovelas my mom made me watch with her when I was a kid.”
“What are we doing here?” Hope asks, and for a second I also think her question is as philosophical as mine. Then I catch her motioning at the wedding gowns on the other side of the glass in a literal way. “We can’t carry that in our suitcases on the team charter flight.”
I turn back to the creations. A row of elegant mannequins showcases dresses of all types, mermaid cuts, empire waists, and other things I can’t really name but I objectively know are pretty. The gowns range from the purest white that hurts my eyes, to the smoothest cream. Across the store and at the opposite exhibitwindow are the bridesmaid dresses in all colors and patterns imaginable.
“I don’t know,” I respond frankly. “We said wedding dress and this is where my mind took me.”
