Page 37 of Off the Stick
Heading back to the car, I pull out of the lot and turn down a quiet residential street with small, similar-looking ramblers and bungalows lining both sides of the tree-lined road.I peer at each house number until I find hers.
Once I reach her small, white, one-story home, I turn into a short, paved driveway.A detached garage with the door shut tight sits further back behind the house, and a chain-link fence wraps around the backyard.Although it’s dark, I see a tricycle and some toys strewn across the yard and smile to myself.
I’m glad Lenni has a safe place to play.I park my car in the driveway next to the small bungalow and turn off the engine.Opening the car door, I unload the bag of groceries to the sounds of neighborhood dogs barking at my appearance.
Walking toward the front door, I’m hit with a niggle of worry in my stomach.
I’m not sure what Halle expects from me tonight, but going in cold has me a bit worried if I can handle it.
I push the anxiety away and climb the three cement block steps that lead to her front door, giving myself a pep talk.I play against some of the toughest two-hundred-pound men in the league, and I’ve managed to deke, outskate, and outscore them with ease.
This will be a piece of cake.
Shifting the bag into the crook of my left arm, I ring the security doorbell and wait.
Tiny footsteps padding to the door can be heard from inside, and I inhale a breath, expelling it slowly as the door creaks open and I come face-to-face with my daughter.
Lennon’s face is covered in what looks like an explosion of chocolate, like she took a bath in a tub of Hershey syrup.
She looks up at me with those wide eyes the same color and shape of mine, blinking rapidly as if she’s trying to remember how she knows me.
“Hey, Lennon.”
“My mama’s sick,” she explains by way of greeting, her mouth turning down into a slight frown.
I kneel on one leg so I’m down at her level and place the bag of groceries next to my foot.
“I know.I’m sorry to hear that.I’m Ax, remember me?”
She tips her head to the side and considers this information.Then she gives a swift nod and swings the door open, taking off into the room and leaving me out on the front step.I pick up the bag and stand, peering into the house after her.
“Halle?”I call out quietly, scanning the front room and the kitchen next to it to see if she’s around.But the only things I see are a pile of throw blankets on the couch and a mess of toys on the floor in every direction.It looks like a tornado upended the toy box and threw everything across the room.
“Lennon, where’s your mommy?”I ask as I place the grocery bag on the kitchen table.I crane my neck down a small hallway that looks like it leads to the bedrooms and try to listen for any noise coming from the back of the house.
Lenni swivels around and points to the long couch that faces a TV and fireplace lining the wall.And sure enough, it’s then that I notice a tuft of messy auburn hair sticking out from underneath.To further confirm it’s her, the blankets shift when her body shakes with a coughing fit.
“Come play a game with me, Ax,” Lenni demands, seemingly unfazed by her mother’s state of distress as she grabs my hand to lead me into the living room.
And that’s all it takes.Apparently, four-year-olds need no further proof or formal identification when looking for a friend to play with.
Looks like my first task in dad mode will be to discuss the topic of stranger danger.
19
Dane
Lenni drops my hand and scurries in mismatched socks across hardwood floors to plop down in front of a pink play castle on the floor.
She glances back at me with a look of censure because I’m still paused at the edge of the couch, wondering if I should check on Halle.
“I’m the pwincess,” she informs me without room for disagreement, and holds up a small yellow-haired plastic doll wearing a blue dress and a crown.“You be Olaf.”
She giggles at her own private joke that I’m clearly not in on.I look off into the direction of the kitchen, which is also in a state of disarray.If I had to guess—knowing Halle’s penchant for organization—this isn’t how it usually looks.That means things have been bad for days.There are open cereal boxes, a tub of animal crackers, empty juice boxes, and an array of bowls and utensils laying out across the table and countertops.
“Okay, Lenni,” I say, offering a placating smile.“I’ll come play with you in a little bit.But first I need to put these groceries away and then take care of your mommy.Do you want to help me with that?”
“No, I’m good.”
