Page 45 of Tinley's Daddy
“You slid right past it.” I pointed.
I grabbed two sodas from the refrigerator and sat at the table, waiting for her. She slid into the chair to my right.
“This looks good.” She leaned over and smelled the food.
“How’s it smell?” I grinned and took a bite of my sandwich.
“I’m sorry.” I shivered and looked back at the table. A purple book sat next to the folder Dr. Maria gave me. “It’s a trigger.”
“Dr. Maria said if I had a trigger or reaction to something that seems strange, I should write it down and make myself remember why it was a trigger.” She took a bite of her sandwich.
“That sounds like a good idea. Gets some of the yucky memories out of your head.” I grabbed the journal off the counter and set it next to her.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I got sick once from eating spoiled food. It was so gross, but I couldn’t go on a ‘date’” —she used finger quotes— “and got in trouble.”
My blood boiled and I took another bite to keep my mouth shut.
I had cut her sandwich into triangles and added some fries to the side.
Tinley picked up a section and took another big bite, no hesitation. She didn’t comment on the triangle either. She grinned with food in her mouth and rocked back and forth, swinging her legs. It was her little peeking out and I loved to see it.
“Thank you for introducing me to Dr. Maria and Dr. Anna.” She smiled. “I like them both.”
“I’m glad.”
“Maria told me she works with women like me all the time.” Tinley grabbed her soda with both hands and took a sip. “Both mes.”
“Both mes?”
“Uhm, the me from the last year and the me before last year.” She gestured with her hand.
I nodded.
“It’s nice to have someone to talk to who gets it.” Tinley attacked the next section of her sandwich.
“It is.” I bit into my sandwich.
“You’re easy to talk to, too.”
I stopped mid-bite. Ironically, Tinley remained silent for the rest of lunch.
After lunch, we cleaned up the kitchen. A few of the items I requested sat in a shopping back on the counter. Tinley peered inside. “What’s this?” She pulled out a bottle of hair glue remover and placed it on the counter. She also pulled out a brush and two combs. One wide-tooth and another rat-tail comb. “Where did this come from?”
“I figured we tackle another item on your list.” I pointed. “I did some research and got stuff to remove the extensions.” I came around the counter. “I figured I could help take them down for you.”
“You want to?” Her eyes grew wide.
“Of course.” I touched her cheek. “If it will make you feel more like yourself.”
I barely finished the sentence before she launched herself at me and hugged me around the waist. The offending hair smacked me in the face.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She pushed the bun over and pulled the elastic off. Her hair fell around her face. “Yes, can we get them out now, please?”
“Of course.” I picked up the bottle. “What do we need?”
“Go grab two bath towels and do we have a spray bottle?” She searched another bag. “We do. How did you know what to get?”
“YouTube.”
