Page 75 of Sharkbait
“Well, once a guy has a child, that child becomes their world. Or at least that’s how it should be. It certainly wasn’t the case with my dad. With either of my parents, really.”
“How do you mean?”
“After their divorce, they bounced around from partner to partner, always putting that shiny new person first, leaving my brother and me in the background. Then when their new toy inevitably lost its luster, they came back to us to playact being good parents, which only ever lasted a month or two until the whole cycle started again.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, it did.”
“But… what does that have to do with you never dating a single dad?”
“I never want to be the person standing between a child and their dad. Ever. So I won’t.”
We start winding our way through the center of the city, and things get more touristy.
I consider playing devil’s advocate.
I consider telling her it’s one-hundred-percent possible to be an excellent dad and a great partner.
That she should give single dads a chance.
Correction: that she should give me a chance.
But who am I to say any of those things when my daughter and I are separated by thousands of miles and an ocean right now?
Why fight for a chance with this woman when I’m leaving in a few months?
“Hey, you want to go park at Penn’s Landing and stare at the Ben Franklin?” Louise’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
“The bridge or the man?” I joke.
“The bridge, ya dork.”
“Louise Anderson, are you asking me to park with you? Is this a 1950s movie, and you are asking me to put aside my morals and park?”
She laughs. “Not like that. But yes, I am asking you to move your vehicle into that lot over there and to shift your car into park so we can sit by the water. Ever since I can remember, sitting by the water has made me feel calm.”
“Still feeling riled up?”
“No,” she says as she places her hand over mine on the gearshift. “Not anymore.”
Parking it is.
Chapter Eighteen
Louise
After a quick stop at a 7-Eleven, we’re sitting on a bench by the river eating Philly soft pretzels and sipping Gatorade while the Benjamin Franklin Bridge glitters overhead.
There’s a small amount of space between us.
I’m not sure who put it there, him or me.
I wince and put my hand to my cheek.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’ve just been having this tooth pain lately. At least I think it’s tooth pain.” I massage a small circle on the hinge of my jaw.
