Charlie
I wake up the next morning to two year old Sarah staring down at me with a frown. I put her to sleep in her Pack N Play, but obviously she’s outgrown that, since she’s climbing on my chest right now.
I just lie there for a second, feeling the sweat from my nightmare making my cotton t-shirt and pajama bottoms cling to my body. The room that we’re in feels weird, and it takes me a second to remember that we’ve never slept here before.
Sarah peers down at me, her dark hair a wild mess. She has her mother’s looks, which make my heart ache every time I look at her.
“Ream?” she asks.
“Dream, yeah,” I sigh, moving her to the side and sitting up. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Sleep!” she chirps.
“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
Sarah thinks about that, then shakes her head. “No.”
I eye her with skepticism. She started potty training herself about a month ago. I’m always a little weirded out to find out she went to the bathroom by herself.
“I frush,” she says, matter of factly. I interpret that to mean that she did go by herself.
“Alright. Are you hungry?” I ask, moving to my feet.
“Yeah!!” she says, instantly cheerful at the mention of a meal. What can I say, the kid loves food.
“Okay. Let’s pick some clothes out, then,” I say, offering her my hand.
We go through the minutiae of an early morning routine. I manage to distract her with dry cereal and cartoons on my iPad for long enough to grab an ultra quick shower.
In a way, it’s good that I’m busy trying to bathe Sarah, or trying to help her pick out clothes. Because I can’t worry about what I plan to do next, which is to show up unannounced at my dad’s house with Sarah in tow.
My dad has been estranged from me since I decided to join the Army, almost ten years ago. We fell out because I asked him to look in on Mom occasionally while I was at boot camp.
“There is a reason I divorced her,” he snarled at me. “Bitch is fucking crazy.”
But not too crazy to leave your young son with, I guess, I thought.
Yeah, better to worry about packing enough snacks and backup pairs of underwear for Sarah. I’ve become the master of swallowing my fears, worrying about what’s in front of me as opposed to anything in the future.
An hour and a half after she wakes me up, we’re both dressed and as ready as we’re going to get. I carry Sarah, my laptop bag, and her diaper bag outside.
I squint against the early morning light as I make my way to my sedan. I see the landlady, Larkin, locking her door.
I instinctively glance away, but one glance was enough to have Larkin burned into my brain.
She’s a tiny little thing, five feet maybe, and about one hundred fifteen pounds soaking wet. She has long blonde tresses that curl a little toward the ends, and her face is heart-shaped, with large amber eyes, an upturned nose, and a mouth that makes me think filthy thoughts.
The last thought makes me feel disgruntled. She’s dressed pretty conservatively, in a red skirt that goes below the knee, a navy top that covers everything up to the neck, and a yellow cardigan.
“Hey!” Larkin greets me, grabbing a big, heavy-looking file box and hefting it to her hip. “Hi, Sarah.”
Sarah makes an excited sound, bouncing up and down in my arms. She waves to Larkin. “Burger!”
Larkin laughs. “You seem to be in a good mood, Miss Sarah.”
Sarah responds with a string of nonsense words.
“She’s chatty today, I guess,” I say, turning toward the car.
“It’s normal for kids her age, I think,” Larkin says, following us.
“Are you a teacher, then?” I ask, looking at her clothes again.
“A librarian,” she answers. “But we get plenty of kids that are your age, don’t we Sarah?”
Sarah grins and claps her hands together. She loves the fact that somebody says her name all the time, I guess.
“Later,” I say, picking up speed. “Gotta run.”
I leave Larkin behind, and force myself to think about the upcoming surprise visit to my father. I’d rather think about Dad than to deal with any attraction I might feel to my hot landlady.
Dad’s house and his hardware store are only a block apart. I drive to the store, and it looks the same as ever. It’s a squat little building with a short gray roof. It has always looked a bit like an old Yorkie dog with overgrown bangs, at least to me.
The sign in the door says it’s not open, so I pull around the block and park out in front of the worn green siding and rusted wrought iron of Dad’s split-level home. I take a breath as I eye the too-long lawn and the peeling vinyl numbers on the mailbox.
Yep. This place hasn’t changed a bit either. The front door opens, and my stepmom comes out with a broom, sweeping the front porch off. The lawn might be my dad’s purview, but apparently the porch falls under hers. Rosa has aged a little in ten years, but she still moves well, with plenty of the Guatemalan beauty that bewitched my dad.
Sarah lets out a random, high pitched scream, writhing to be released from her car seat. I see Rosa look up at my car, puzzled. I look back at Sarah, trying to pacify her.
“Sarah, hey!” I say in the brightest tone I can manage. “Here’s your toy…”
She quiets, squeaking the ball I just handed her. “Ball.”
I turn back to my window, only to find Rosa about to tap on the glass. Sighing, I roll the window down. “Hey, Rosa.”
“Charlie, you get out of that car right now,” she says in her heavily accented English. “Let me see you.”
“Uhhh….” I glance back at Sarah, who is happily squeaking her toy. “Alright.”
I open the door and get out, towering over Rosa. She puts her hands on her hips for a second and purses her lips. Then she breaks into a grin, hugging me.
For a second, I don’t know how to react. I tense up. It’s been a long time since anyone other than my daughter was physically affectionate with me. Then I force myself to relax, hugging her halfheartedly.
“You look thin,” she tsks. “Are you eating?”
“We eat fine.” I disengage from her embrace.
Rosa peers around me at Sarah. “Who is this? This is your daughter?”
Sarah grins cheekily at Rosa, waving her ball.
“This is Sarah,” I say, almost a little embarrassed that this is how Sarah meets her grandparents. Sarah is suddenly frustrated by the restraints on her body, wanting out of the car seat.
Rosa clucks her tongue. “Well, don’t stand there like that, get her out of the seat!”
I open the door and disentangle Sarah from the car seat, holding her and closing the door. Rosa looks at her, getting misty eyed.
“This is my first grandchild, you know?” she says. “You should have brought her around before now.”
She holds out her arms to Sarah, but Sarah isn’t interested in going to her. Sarah turns her head away and lays her head on my shoulder, making fists in my hoodie.
“Sorry,” I