Page 97 of Never Really Over

“She did.”

“Poppy, want to walk around with me?”

“Dada!”

“Yup, Daddy can come, too.”

I follow behind my two favorite girls. When we get to Layla’s old bedroom, it’s like stepping back in time.

“This is my bedroom, Poppy. Just like you have a bedroom at home.”

Poppy walks around, picking up a stuffed teddy bear that I gave Layla when we first started dating. I sprayed my Axe body spray on it before giving it to her.

“Daddy gave me that bear,” Layla tells her. “Want to see something funny? This is Daddy and me when we were all dressed up.” Layla hands her a picture frame that was on her dresser. Without looking at the actual picture, I know it’s of the two of us at prom.

Poppy examines it, looking closely. I crouch down and point. “See? That’s me when I was younger. And that’s Layla.”

She giggles like what I just said is hilarious. Picture forgotten, she moves around Layla’s room, investigating before quickly growing bored with it. She grabs my hand and tugs, walking toward the door. I’m sure she’s wanting to see the toys that are in the living room.

“Want to play a bit before supper, Tootsie Pop?”

She smiles and says, “Ba!” which I’ve learned means ball. There’s a little plastic basketball hoop that is just a little taller than she is with a foam ball that she gravitates to, picking up the ball and tossing it in my direction. I have to reach for it, her aim not yet developed. I show her what to do, dropping the ball through the hoop and hand it back to her.

For the next several minutes, she cheers for herself every time she drops the ball through the fabric, Layla and I encouraging and clapping right along with her. She’s so happy and full of joy. She’s learning so much and growing up quickly. Too quickly.

Stan joins us, sitting on the couch. Poppy brings the ball to him and he smiles gently, taking it from her. She goes to the hoop and points, silently telling him to play along.

He tosses it from where he sits and it bounces off the rim so she brings it back to him, giving him another chance. This time when he shoots, he scores. Poppy cheers.

Stan chuckles. “She’s adorable.”

“Yeah, she is,” I agree. “Looks a lot like her mom.”

“Your sister, right? I’m sorry to hear about your loss. I can’t imagine.”

“Thank you.”

“You two doing okay?” Stan asks. It’s a question full of kindness, concern, even.

“It was rough at first,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve been around Poppy since she was born, with her constantly, but even though she was comfortable around me, I could tell she was confused, unsettled, too. It hasn’t been perfect or easy, but we’re making our way.”

He nods, understanding. Poppy, oblivious to our conversation, moves on to other toys. Her attention span is short at best, and she moves on to play with her things. There’s a soft dolly, some blocks, and a few tractors.

“Supper’s ready,” Stan says, his eyes trained on Poppy as she plays. “Maureen needed to use the restroom first.”

“I’m here,” Maureen announces as she joins us in the living room, sitting on the edge of a chair. “Poppy seems to be having fun.”

Layla smiles at her mom, sitting on the floor and helping Poppy build a short tower with blocks. “She’s loving the toys.”

“I’m glad.” Maureen smiles. “Hungry?”

“Always,” I admit. “You had me at burgers, but you know I’d eat anything you cook.”

“I remember,” Maureen acknowledges. “It took me a few months to realize I’d have to make triple the amount of food to fill you up.”

“I was a growing boy.” I grin.

Stan chuckles. “I remember those days. Now I can’t eat like I once could.”

---