Page 60 of Two Friends in Marriage
Skylar nods as she crunches her celery.
When she finishes her snack, she brings her dishes to the sink and puts the celery and peanut butter away, then wipes a hand on her shirt as she heads to the next room.
“Skylar,” I say, “how about you wash your hands before you make the card?”I fear that if she doesn’t, the paper will be covered in peanut butter.
She scurries to the washroom and returns a minute later.As she folds a piece of paper in half and gets to work, I sit on the couch and text Evan to tell him where I am.I don’t want him to worry when he returns to an empty house.He doesn’t immediately respond, but I don’t expect him to—I assume he’s either on the road or still in his meeting.
“How do you spell ‘get well soon’?”Skylar asks.
I tell her, and she writes each letter down on the front of the card.
Even though she looks nothing like I did at that age, I can’t help seeing my younger self in her.It seems horribly unfair that a young child could lose a parent—or even a grandparent—but I was in grade one when my mom passed away.
I scroll through social media on my phone, not really seeing the words or the pictures, just needing to do something with my hands.
“Is this okay?”Skylar sits down beside me.On the front of her card, there are two people and a rainbow, plus something else that might be a dog.Inside, she’s written, “I love you.Skylar.”
“It’s very nice,” I tell her, swallowing.No one has said—or written—those three little words to me in over twenty years.Though I’ve said them myself, they haven’t been returned.
She scampers off.I poke my head out of the doorway to see where she’s going.She puts the card on the bench by the door before returning.She pulls a tablet out of herFrozenbackpack, as well as some headphones, and starts watching an animated show that’s unfamiliar to me.Since I haven’t been given any instructions on screentime, I figure this is fine.I’m a last-minute babysitter in an emergency; I just have to make sure she’s safe and fed.
My thoughts drift to wondering what my kids would be like.Does Evan still want kids?I assume so, but we haven’t spoken about it recently.
When Skylar takes off her headphones, an hour has passed since she arrived on my doorstep.Her father still isn’t home.
“What would you like to do now?”I ask.
“Can we go outside?”
“Sure.Just on the driveway or in the backyard.”
At the front of the house, she tells me the code to the garage—she’s too short to enter it herself, but she knows it.I open it up, and she reaches for a skipping rope.“You can skip, too.”She gestures to another rope.“That one’s longer.I got them for my birthday.”
Since I don’t need to spend more time on my phone, I pick up a rope and start skipping, something I haven’t done since I was a child.Is jumping rope as popular as it used to be?We used to do it at recess.I cross my arms in front of me, then switch to skipping backward.Skylar watches me for a moment before she begins skipping herself.
“I’m not very good,” she says.
“What?You’re plenty good.”
“But I can’t do what you do.”
Now I feel like I was trying to show off, but that wasn’t my intention.“You just need a little practice.What do you want to do?Skip backward?”
She nods.
I don’t know how to explain it; it’s just something I remember how to do, like riding a bike.“Start with the rope in front of you.Now raise it up and behind.”
She tries to copy me, but the rope hits her shoes.She tries one more time, without success.“I can’t do it.”
Should I encourage her to continue trying?It doesn’t feel like this is outside of her abilities, and it’s good to learn how to keep trying, even if it’s not easy for you the first time.
But I’ve known this kid for an hour, and her grandfather is in the hospital.
I try to think of what my father was like with me at this age—his patience as he taught me to ride a bike—and there’s a twinge of pain in my chest, but it quickly dissipates.It remains hard, however, to think of how close my dad and I used to be, and how the opposite is true now.
“Maybe you can try for a little longer,” I say.“But if you can’t do it, you can try again another day.Some things take time.”I know the passing of time feels different when you’re a kid, though.
After a few more minutes, I can tell she’s getting frustrated.I encourage her to jump forward—she’s pretty good at that—before she tries again.Build up some confidence.
