Page 10 of A Very Grumpy Father's Day
FOUR
Declan
THE GOD-AWFUL-FATHER
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and feel the kind of panic I’d never felt before we had Ciara. For a few seconds I don’t remember why I woke up, and then I realize I had a nightmare about losing Maddie and our baby and I get so scared. I wrap my arms around Maddie when she’s asleep and then get up to check on Ciara. I used to be ashamed that I could be so scared, but then I realized how grateful I should be to have these people that I would do anything for.
“Anything,” I say to Ciara as she sobs in my arms. “I will literally do absolutely anything to make you happy right now. Just tell me what you want.”
She won’t even look at me. But she doesn’t stop crying when I put her in the crib, so I’m just going to keep holding her and bouncing and swaying her around until she wears herself out or remembers exactly how awesome I am. She used to like me. Never as much as she liked her mom, and I could hardly blame her for that. But she tolerated me. She was entertained by me, even. Nothing works on her anymore. Ever since we moved here. She is no longer buying what I’m selling. That will never stop me from trying out my signature moves.
“Ahhh, my wee darlin’ one,” I say in my best Irish accent. “May the most you wish for be the least you get.” Her glassy eyes widen. She turns her sweet little face to mine, sucks in her breath, and stares up at my mouth. “Do I have yer attention now, then, my love? May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light. May good luck pursue you each mornin’ and night.” She blinks and sniffles. Encouraging. I’ve saved the best for last. “May the sun shine all day long, everything go right, and nothing go wrong. May those you love bring love back to you, and may all the wishes you wish come true.”
Boom. Take that, tiny girl human.
She blinks again. Sniffles again. Pouts.
Ah, shit.
She begins weeping again, with all the melancholy of her Irish ancestors, the drama of her Italian heritage, and theWhat the Fuck, Cannavale?!attitude of her Staten Island–born mother.
I remember my very sexy, professional, and rational negotiations with Maddie back when I’d asked her to pretend to be my girlfriend over the Christmas holiday. She said I struck her as the kind of man who’s totally oblivious about what women are thinking and feeling most of the time. That hurt.
It hurt because I knew it was true.
And then I promptly forgot that it was true, because how else would I survive being me?
Now I am once again reminded how true it is.
Maybe I just suck.
I have no fucking clue what my beloved daughter is thinking or feeling right now or ever, and it’s debilitating and soul crushing.
Maybe she needs her mommy’s scented candles too. Maybe all any female needs is an orchid arrangement and some scented candles and a gentle verbal reminder that she is loved and respected every now and then.
Or maybe I should try negotiating with Ciara because she is composed of fifty percent Declan Cannavale, Esq. DNA. I don’t think she’s mentally capable of responding to my professionally honed subtle manipulations with open body language and understanding vocal tones. So I’ll have to come out swinging.
I hold my infant up until she looks me in the eyes and give her my best Vito Corleone: “Miss Cannavale. Why you gotta cry so much, huh? I don’t want this for you. I work my whole life. I don’t apologize for taking care of my family. I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.” I kiss her on both cheeks. “Are you listening to me, little baby? You stop your crying. You go to sleep for an hour, maybe two. And then Papa’s gonna buy you whatever you ask him for, your whole life.Capiche?What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
She doesn’t even do me the honor of considering my offer. She just keeps crying.
I suck.
The phone in my pocket starts vibrating, and I check it in case it’s Maddie calling me from the other room. But it’s my little brother Eddie FaceTiming me. What the hell. Might as well take this. Ciara likes Eddie. All female animals like Eddie. I’ve seen goldfish fall in love with him. I hold the baby in one arm and allow Eddie’s famous and supposedly attractive face to fill the screen of my phone. If she stops crying as soon as she sees him—I quit.
Okay, I don’t quit. Of course she stops crying—she’s intrigued by the phone.
Eddie’s sweet face lights up when he sees her. “Heyyyy, Ciara. How you doin’?”
“Don’t Joey my daughter.”
“I wasn’t flirting!”
“You are never not flirting with girls.”
“True. Hey, pretty girl. Sup?”
She starts babbling at him. I would like to think that she’s trying to sayI’m not falling for your charms, Hollywood actor uncle. I’m just being polite!But she does seem happy to hear his voice. So I guess I’m happy that she’s happy.
