Page 164 of Ice Darling
“No bad thoughts at all?”
“No.”
“Remember, you can talk to Miss Potts if you ever feel scared or overwhelmed.”
“I know. Miss Potts is really nice. She’s always asking if I’m okay.”
“That’s good.”
Gordie pushes the motorcycle over her vanity and around her Hello Kitty lotion bottles. “And she says she wants to go to the arcade again!”
I cringe. I’ve been trying to subtly reject Gordie’s teacher for weeks. I didn’t want to be harsh and cause Miss Potts to treat Gordie differently. But it seems like a straightforward conversation is the only way to make things clear.
I finish helping Gordie get dressed and then do her hair.
“What about Vinnie?” I use a bit of hair cream and scoop one half of her hair into a ponytail. “Is everything okay with you two? I haven’t heard you mention her in a while.”
Gordie freezes. “Yeah, me and Vinnie are still best friends. But she doesn’t sit with me as much anymore. But that’s okay because I have my friends from Star Club.”
“Is there a reason Vinnie isn’t sitting with you anymore?”
Gordie shrugs.
The desire to push further wells in me, but I get the sense that Gordie doesn’t want to talk about it.
“You know Daddy’s here to listen and be there for you.”
Gordie bobs her head.
“No matter what happens, I love you more than anything.”
“I know.”
I do the next ponytail, smooth everything down with a brush, and then press a big kiss to her cheek.
The kiss tilts her sideways, and she complains, “Daadddy, your face is prickly.”
“Is it?” I scrub a hand down my cheek. I shaved this morning, but it looks like I’ll need to do it again.
I check the time as I hurry to the bathroom. I’m playing it close, but I manage to shave, shower, and change into a chambray shirt and jeans.
I stop in front of the mirror.Is this too casual?
I’m brushing my hair up and then down and wondering if I should change the pants when I hear Cordelia’s bike rumbling down the lane. It’s so loud that all my neighbors know when she’s coming.
An excited squeal erupts from downstairs. “She’s here! She’s here!”
I sprint down the stairs.
Gordie bolts off too.
The race to the door is on. My kid beats me to it by a hair, but I’m taller and can reach the lock more easily.
I swing the door open.
“Delia!” Gordie screams gleefully and throws herself at the mechanic.
Delia’s smile rivals my daughter’s as she gives Gordie a big hug. “Hey, Gordie.”
