Page 11 of Untangled
“You’re not crazy. You’re holding our family together and dealing with my shit on top of it. Thank you for telling me.” He leans in to kiss me and there’s a promise in the tender brush of his lips against mine.
“Now go sit in your car and scroll or listen to music or drive through McDonalds for a milkshake on the way to the store,” he says. “Whatever you want to do. When you get back, the entry will be clear.”
“Thanks. And we’ll do a rain check on the massage,” I say as I stand up from the couch and smooth my hands over my thighs. “Next time I’ll start with you.”
“You’ll have to fight me on that,” he replies as he makes his way to the front hall, eyebrows raised.
“I’ll give in then. No more fighting.”
“No more fighting,” he says with a nod. “I can get behind that.”
Day 7
What character trait do you appreciate most in your partner?
“What can I get you to drink?”
The waiter, who doesn’t look a day over twenty-two, waits expectantly for my order with a small pad of paper clutched to his chest. He flicks his head to fling dark hair from over one eye.
“I’ll have a glass of the house white,” I reply before turning my eyes to Daniel. Now we both wait whilehe peruses the drink menu, humming softly while he does. Even though he’s taking his time looking everything over, he will, without question, order an Old Fashioned.
“Hmm,” he says, right on cue. “I’ll take an Old Fashioned. Do you have Blanton’s?”
“We do. I’ll get those right out,” the waiter says, while not writing anything down on that notepad of his.
Mythank youtrails off as he leaves the table before I’ve said the second word.
“This is wild, huh?” Daniel says as I turn back to face him. We’re sitting at a two-top, tucked against a window. The soft edge of the tablecloth tickles my bare knees every time I cross them.
“Eating dinner? That’s pretty typical across cultures,” I joke.
“Going to a nice restaurant. It’s been almost a year, I think.”
“Since before Violet,” I add.
After the mess that was yesterday’s fight/massage, I sent a frantic text to my mom asking if she could watch Violet tonight. I figured the change of scene could help both of us re-center. I didn’t anticipate that being away from her would spin up my nervous system just as much as being with her. While the restaurant protects me from the constant sensory overload I feel at home, it’s a struggle to keep my mind from straying with worry.
“Are you thinking about Lettie?” Daniel asks and I nod. “Me too. I always thought it was weird when parents wouldsay they spent time away from their kids looking at photos of them, but now I get it.”
“Do you think my mom is going to remember the extra pacis when it’s bedtime?”
“You laid everything out for her. And she raised two kids of her own—she’s not new at this.”
“A lot of what they did back in the late 80s and early 90s is illegal now. That’s not the comfort you think it should be,” I say.
A different server appears, with curly hair in a bouncy ponytail and a few wisps pulled out on the sides. She drops our drinks on the table with a quick, “Enjoy.”
“Should we toast?” Daniel asks.
“To what?”
“Hmm, to prioritizing ourselves, to the advent challenge, or to your mom. You pick.”
“To enjoying a night off,” I say instead, before tilting my glass for him to clink.
“Hear, hear,” he replies.
Quickly, my mind drifts back to Violet and whether the diaper I placed on her changing table, along with her pjs, was the more absorbent night-time version.
