Page 87 of Just a Plot Twist
“No!” she tosses over her shoulder, weaving past the maître d’.
Soft. Slow. Simple.I chant in my mind as I try to catch up to her. I read it in a parenting book once, about how you’re supposed to approach people who are triggered or upset in a soft, slow, and simple way. It’s helped diffuse a lot of arguments on my end, but I still don’t always remember to do it.
Finally, halfway down the hall, Indie stops, leans her shoulder against the wall and folds her arms over her chest in a huff.
“Dax is the literal worst!”
I don’t answer, just sink down into a cross-legged position, my back against the wall. I take a couple of deep breaths while she complains about her older brother.
When I was growing up, I wished I had a sibling, and sometimes I tell the kids how lucky they are to have each other—usually when things are calm. Now, I have six brothers. Life is so unpredictable.
Soon, Indie’s in tears, but she’s not letting me hug her, so I wait, and, like I suspected, there are other reasons for her pain, in addition to having “the worst older brother in the world.” She starts talking about kids at swim and something mean another girl said to her, and I sigh, my throat growing thick.
I don’t do mean girl stuff, so I feel myself beginning to shut down. I can’t handle it when other kids are mean to my kids. And the more she talks about it, the angrier I get.
By the time Indie joins me on the hallway floor, mirroring my posture, I’m still just listening, but my papa bear has reared its ugly head. I’m plotting now. Can I get ahold of the manager of Indie’s swim team this late at night? Is it too much to ask to have this other little girl immediately booted from the team?
It’s not a great headspace to be in.
But then, suddenly Claire approaches. She rests a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, can I take a turn?” she asks softly, giving Indie a tenuous smile.
“No!” Indie shouts, wrapping her arms around her stomach and bending at the waist. “Everyone needs to leave me alone.”
Claire rears back slightly, like she wasn’t expecting that.
“Indie, we’re not at home, so it’s not safe to leave you alone here. But Claire and I can go down the hall.” It’s tiring, trying to figure out how to parent on my own, without Danica’s involvement. It was tiring even when I was married, which I’m pretty sure is normal.
But now? Sometimes, the despair is too much and a sinking feeling starts in. Like I’m in over my head.
“No!” Indie says again, a little quieter this time. “Then you’ll just talk about me down there.” She points down the hall in a wild swing of her arm.
It’s kind of funny. I squelch a burst of a laugh and school my features. Claire’s doing the same. It’s good to have her here with me.
The past two weekends, she’s spent a lot of time with us—the kids and Cinnamon. Yes, Cinnamon is still in the mix. Mrs. Lambert extended hertrip again, calling her son-in-law a fathering newbie,who has no clue, so she had to stay.
So, yeah, Cinnamon’s still around, which I’m tolerating. But it’s going to be that much harder for the kids to say goodbye to her now that she’s “solidly part of the family.”
Those are the kids’ words, not mine.
“Claire and I want to talk about what treats we’d like to buy for Cinnamon in the morning,” I say.
“Or what movie we should do for family movie night tomorrow,” Claire adds. “We don’t need to talk about your private stuff, Indie. That’s between you and your dad. I’m just here in case either of you need any help with anything, okay?”
Indie doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t protest the idea. She just stares ahead.
Claire sits along the floor, a few feet down from Indie and rests her head against the wall. In the silence, Indie fumes.
“You want to talk about it some more, Indie? About Dax or the kids at swim or…?”
“No!”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay.”
We’re quiet for several minutes, just waiting. I glance over at Claire, and she’s resting calmly. Like she’s got all the time in the world.
Finally, a sniff from Indie, before the dam breaks loose and she’s full-blown crying. I hold my hands out for an embrace.
But Indie bypasses me completely, instead scooting to Claire and throwing her arms around her in a savage hug.
