Page 13 of A Very Grumpy Father's Day
FIVE
Maddie
FATHER OF THE BRIBE
What’s the actual last thing you’d ever expect to find your occasionally grumpy, frequently cocky lawyer husband doing when you hear your infant bawling her little head off from down the hall? Dancing around her nursery like Star-Lord inGuardians of the Galaxyto “Come and Get Your Love”…in an Elmo costume?
Yeah. Me too.
And yet here we are.
I shouldn’t have left him alone with Ciara this soon after a night out with Billy and Nolan. I didn’t even have a successful unpacking session: I still haven’t found the box that contains my scented candles or bath accessories; I accidentally dropped a jar full of beads that Piper gave me years ago when she was going through her crafting phase; and in one box o’ fun, I found a wastebasket with trash in it, a manila envelope filled with a disturbing amount of Canadian money, and a half-eaten apple inside an old leather slipper that does not belong to either myself or Declan.
Now my baby hasn’t had her afternoon nap, I foresee a sleepless night ahead of us, and I think both she and my husband will bear the emotional scars of this day for the rest of their lives.
I love this song. This is the song that was playing when Declan proposed to me. And when I found him dancing around naked in a hotel room the morning after we had sex for the first time. Now it will forever be the soundtrack to my daughter’s nightmares and my husband’s broken spirit.
He stops dancing once he sees me. I mean, I’m assuming he can see me through the black mesh of Elmo’s mouth. More than anything, I’m amazed that he even remembered where I’d hidden the costume in the back of the closet. He turns the song off on his phone and removes the Elmo head, which just makes the baby scream even more.He looks really good in red, dammit,is all I’m thinking. I need to buy him some red shirts.
“Hi,” I say. “How’s it going?”
He walks past me, holding the Elmo head and frowning. “We will never speak of this,” he mumbles.
I offer him a reassuring look that he can’t see because he’s too busy storming off, but we both know that’s not true.
“Awww, hi baby, hi baby, hi baby.” Ciara reaches for me, and I pull her out of the crib, into my arms and kiss her forehead. “Shhh shhhh shhhh. It’s okay. That was just your da-da’s way of showing you how much he loves you. We love this song and we love Elmo and we love Daddy. Right? We love how Da-Da shows us how much he loves us in all the entertaining, sometimes alarming and aggressive ways. Right? Yes, we do. That’s my girl.”
* * *
An hour later, after I’ve finally gotten Ciara down for her nap and had a cup of Greek yogurt for my four o’clock lunch, I find my husband facedown on our bed, clutching a piece of paper and his Montblanc pen.
Uh-oh.
That’s his lucky contract-signing pen.
I know what that means.
It means Mommy won’t be getting hernap.
I adjust the volume on the baby monitor on my bedside table and try to lie down on the bed without disturbing him, but he twitches as soon as my body touches the mattress.
Needless to say, he is no longer wearing the Elmo costume. In addition to changing out of the casual clothes he was wearing earlier, he has put on a pair of black fitted pants, a charcoal-gray Hugo Boss shirt, and his Italian leather dress shoes. I watch him stand up and see that he is also wearing a tie. What he’s silently communicating is that he is the opposite of Elmo.
Despite my fatigue and frustration and his mussed-up nap hair, I am buying all of what he’s selling.
But he doesn’t have to know that.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Cannavale.”
He tugs at his shirtsleeves and strides over to my side of the bed. “Mrs. Cannavale. I have drawn up a nondisclosure agreement. Please sign and date this document with this pen. Feel free to read it carefully first, of course, but you will find it to be succinct and very rational and necessary.”
I sit up, arrange the pillow between my back and the headboard, and take the printed-out one-page document from him.
It’s a standard NDA.Entered into on the date of… Party disclosing information… Party receiving information… The parties agree to enter into a confidential relationship concerning the witnessing and disclosure of certain confidential information…
“You do realize this is ridiculous, right?”
“I could see why you might deem it ridiculous, Mrs. Cannavale. Please continue reading.”
