Page 118 of Sharkbait
“So cool!” Iris squeals.
Louise is a natural with her. Not that I’m surprised in the least.
“How did you become friends with a sea lion?”
“I work in an aquarium, and that’s where she lives.”
“Can I come meet her sometime?” Iris nearly shouts with excitement.
Louise looks at me for guidance.
I nod and mouth, “Sure.”
“Sure!” Louise says.
“Yay! Because I’ll be there again to visit Daddy in…” She pauses. “How many weeks, Daddy?”
“Five weeks,” I answer.
“In five weeks! So when I’m there, I’d love to meet Meilani and you and do all the Philthy-delphian things together with Daddy!”
“That, um. That sounds good?” Louise says and looks at me with uncertainty.
“You’re fine,” I whisper. “You’re doing fine.”
“Well, this has been fun, Louise, but my mom has my after-school snack ready to rock, and I’m freaking famished, so I gotta go, love you Daddy, see you at bedtime, bye!” Iris says in one breath and signs off.
“Bye, kiddo.” I laugh and say to a blank screen.
It’s silent for a moment.
“I’ve gotta work on that ‘freaking’ thing. Keeps popping up in her speech. Probably not the best habit for a six-year-old, right?”
“Gosh, I don’t know.” Louise breathes.
“What can I get ya?” I ask. May as well start with the easiest thing on the agenda: getting this woman a drink.
Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band starts playing over the speakers.
“Do you mind if we…?”
“Change the station? You got it.” I switch the music over to a nineties playlist I made recently.
“How about a Blue Moon?” she asks.
“Coming right up.”
As I pour, she says softly, “I never explained The Beatles thing to you, did I?”
“No, but that’s—”
“When I was little—before my dad left—he loved listening to Breakfast with The Beatles. I guess it was a thing the local radio station did every Sunday morning. Anyway, no matter what was going on in our house or how much fighting there was between him and my mom, that was something we’d always do together. I’d eat my Lucky Charms. He’d read his newspaper and drink his coffee. And we’d listen to The Beatles.” She sighs. “Gosh, it’s wild I can even remember that. I had to have been just under three.”
I place her beer in front of her.
“Thanks,” she says.
“Thank you. For coming back.”
