Page 14 of Give Me a Reason

As much as I wanted to schedule gigs on the weeks Paisley was with Naomi, that just wasn’t possible. Bar managers wanted to book me weekly, not every other week, and I couldn’t blame them. Their customers liked consistency. But it was also why I’d asked Aria to see if she could babysit for me. I needed someone who was reliable.

I’d like to think I chose her because she’d mentioned how often she’d babysat, and she was great with Paisley, but there was this bigger part of me that was drawn to her. I wanted to know more about her. I had this impression of her as being high maintenance, but the reality wasn’t matching up.

When she texted to say she could come over on Wednesday, I was nervous, and I couldn’t figure out why. It felt a little bigger than interviewing a potential sitter. I wanted to make her dinner, and I wanted to impress her. It made no sense because I’d never been nervous to see a woman before, and this one was interviewing to be my employee.

She loved weddings, which meant she was a romantic. She was the type of woman I avoided at all costs. Just because someone wanted to get married didn’t mean they’d stay married. It was harder than people thought, and I had a front-row seat to my parents’ dysfunction. The constant new people in and out of my life, the eventual marriages I knew wouldn’t last, the inevitable breakup. It was a cycle of ups and downs I could do without.

On Wednesday, Paisley came home from school, talking nonstop about what happened that day and asking when Aria would be here. Aria must have made an impression on her at the festival because Paisley couldn’t wait to see her again.

Paisley watched a few clips of her favorite movie, Ratatouille, before I asked her what we should cook. When she raised her brow, I finally relented. “Fine. We’ll make ratatouille, but we need to go to the store to get the ingredients.”

“Yay!” Paisley cheered as she hopped off the couch.

I paused her movie so she could watch it later, and we got into the car. I’d pulled up the recipe online and knew what we needed to get. “We need veggies and French bread if we can find it.”

“It’s going to be so good. Aria will love it.”

I should have asked Aria if she had any allergies, but I hadn’t. If so, she could probably still eat the veggies. At the store, I got a lot of looks when I was alone with Paisley. It was almost as if older women thought it was adorable that I was taking my child to the store. Something moms did every day was somehow exceptional when the dad did it.

The word “ratatouille” sounded a little fancier than it was. It was a mixture of roasted veggies poured over bread or rice. At the store, I grabbed a basket and filled it with eggplant, zucchini, and tomatoes. I grabbed a couple of different kinds of freshly baked bread and brown rice.

I’d never made it before, and I hoped it turned out okay.

“If I’m making this,” I said, setting the veggies on the counter, “you’re helping me.”

“Okay,” Paisley said, surprising me.

I got out a couple of cutting boards, the smaller knife for Aria and a larger one for me. I told her how to cut the tomatoes carefully and gave her a bowl to drop them in when she was done. Then I queued up her favorite playlist on my phone.

Occasionally, one of us would start singing and tease the other about our terrible voices. It was fun, and it reminded me how empty the house was during the weeks she was with Naomi. I hated not being with her when I needed to work, and I missed her when she was with her mom.

When the doorbell rang at six, we had the veggies cooking and were slicing the bread to serve with olive oil and rosemary while we waited.

“She’s here,” Paisley said, climbing off the high stool and racing toward the door.

“Look before you open the door,” I called after her, following her at a slower pace. I’d already checked the video feed on my phone and knew it was Aria.

She wore another one of her sundresses as she fiddled with the strap of her purse.

“It’s Aria,” Paisley called, right before she opened the door.

“Paisley, it’s so nice to see you again.”

Paisley squealed. She was so excited, rattling on about cutting tomatoes for the first time, and Aria’s eyes widened.

“I’m a good dad, I promise. It was a small, dull knife, and I supervised her the whole time.”

“I never doubted that,” Aria said with a smile.

I shut the door behind her and followed them into the kitchen.

“We cut up bread in case you’re hungry.” Paisley grabbed a plate and set a slice of bread on it.

“I wasn’t expecting dinner,” Aria said as she set her purse on the counter.

“I invited you over at dinnertime, and we need to eat. Would you like something to drink?” I asked her.

“I’d love some water. Thank you.” Aria sat on the stool Paisley had just vacated.

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