Page 43 of Deadly Sights

The husband reached across the gearshift to cup his wife’s knee and give her a reassuring squeeze.

Soon, the neon light from the gas station served as a beacon, drawing them to the relative safety of a public structure.

“Mommy, I’m thirsty,” the little girl with the afro puffs said when the car stopped near the convenience store in front of the gas pumps.

Other than their car, there was a panel van at the pump, but the driver was absent.

“What’re you gonna give me to pay for a drink?”

The little girl paused to think, then a big smile spread her lips wide, exposing her chipped front tooth. “A googolplex of hugs.”

“A googolplex? That sounds like a lot of hugs.”

“Objectively, a googolplex is the largest denomination of numbers within bounds the human mind can understand. Although physically impossible to complete in a lifetime, I contend Mommy’s time is worth it.”

“Hey! Don’t I rate at least one hug? I drive you around wherever you need to go,” the father said, feigning outrage and ignoring his daughter’s demonstration of her genius.

The little girl giggled, then whispered, “You get a sextillion kisses.”

“That’s more like it,” he said.

The mom rolled her eyes and unbuckled her seat belt. “Sounds like favoritism to me. You always get the good stuff.”

He leaned over to her ear. “And I always give you the even better stuff.”

She playfully pushed him away with a laugh and a shake of her head. “Do you need anything, honey?”

“Just some sugar before you go.”

The little girl in the back seat watched in awe as her parents lovingly kissed each other. Only the harsh honk from the dad accidentally leaning against the steering wheel caused them to jump apart.

The mother wiped the traces of her lipstick from his mouth.

“Hurry back, now,” he said.

“Yes, mommy. Hurry back. It’s already past my bedtime. I need my beauty sleep if I want to be fresh as spring for my first day at my new school.”

“Where does she get that?” he asked.

“Don’t ask me, that’s your daughter.” The mom left the car before another smart comment from father or daughter stopped her.

“Alright pumpkin pop, you want to help daddy fix the car?”

“Okay, but remember my hands are delicate.” The little girl raises her hands that put the lie to her words.

Calluses harden her palms and fingertips from her many outdoor activities. And no matter how many scrubbings her mother subjected her to, a slight discoloration lined the edges of her nails.

“Uh-huh,” the father said and exited the door.

The little girl released the safety belt from her car seat and followed behind her father as he checked each tire. While assessing the last tire on the passenger side, he found the source of the car’s noise and wobbly steering. From the trunk, he removed the tools he needed to pull off the tire.

“Pumpkin pop, you know the little green box I keep in the back row?” At her blank look, he shook his head. “There’s a green box in the back row of the car, can you get it for me? The sooner you do, the sooner you get that beauty sleep you said you needed.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What currency are you going to pay me?”

“Currency? I’ll give you some currency.” He grabbed his daughter around the waist, raising her above the ground to blow raspberries in her neck.

Her laughter filled the air with joyful sound until he put her down. Her demands for more were met with a gentleshove toward the box her father needed. With heavy steps, she retrieved the package and squatted to watch him work as he removed the nail.

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