“Slam dunk!” Odette bounced up and down on the couch, flexing her non-existent muscles like she was gearing up for WrestleMania. “Whoop whoooop!”
Her hair was parted in three plaits, with barrettes at the ends. When she swung her head about like a maniac, like she was doing now, her hair resembled the blades of a ceiling fan.
“Will you sit down?” I admonished, laughing around a mouthful of cheesy goodness, “If your Grandma catches you jumping on her couch, I won’t be able to save you.”
“I am superior!” she exclaimed, plopping down and reaching for another slice, “Admit it Mom, I did great, and for my first try too! I think I’ll be ready for MasterChef Junior next year.” Her cheeks puffed out proudly.
“Slow your roll Gordon Ramsay, we talked about this. When you’re ten I’ll consider it.”
Her smile melted, “But Mom, the youngest contestants on MasterChef Junior are eight and soon I’ll be eight too. And look,” she splayed her arms about wildly, determined to make her point, “I just mastered pizza, on my first try! Next week I’m gonna try risotto and the week after that I’m gonna ask Dad to get me one of those pasta roller machine thingys so I can practise making pasta from scratch. Soon I’ll be the queen of Italian cuisine!”
She declared this with the air of Jack's “I’m the king of the world!”
“Odette, you are too young. I’m not comfortable with-"
“But Mom,” We must have had this argument about five times a day, “I’ve been practising real hard and I think-"
“It doesn’t matter what you think Odette. I’m the one with the final say-"
“But you’re not being fair!”
I was about to rebut with the typical, “Life isn’t fair” spiel I had mastered early on into this whole motherhood thing, but the lovely snippet of Celine Dion’s My Life Will Go On called a halt to my I-know-what’s-good-for-you-because-I’m-your-mother tirade.
“Oh my God!”
“What’s the matter?” She clambered onto my lap so she could see the subject of my distress. With a peek at my phone screen she asked curiously, “Who’s Daniel?”
In a blind panic, I pitched her off my lap and started to pace with Celine as my soundtrack. Odette landed on her back on the cushions with a muffled umf.
“Stay right there and don’t say a word, okay?” I ordered strictly as she stared up at me with wide eyes, our ongoing conflict temporarily forgotten, “Okay?” I pressed.
“Uh, okay.” She muttered hesitantly, folding her hands in her lap with a deathly serious expression, as if she understood the gravity of the situation. The fact that she did as she was told without further question just made me love her more.
I attempted to draw from my daughter’s strength as I took a deep, calming breath, and braced myself to say, “Hi.”
His voice was deep and beautiful, and though he was miles away, I could see his smile, “Hello.”
“Hi,” I squeaked like a tween confronted by her crush.
Odette’s eyebrows met her hairline in bewilderment, never before having heard such a sound escape her mother’s mouth.
He laughed, “I’m happy you’re up. I was worried it was too late.”
“Oh I’m up. Eyes are wide open. Nobody sleeping over here!” I finished with a nervous chuckle.
One look in Odette’s direction and I wanted to kick myself in the shin. Her eyes were peeled open wide like she was watching antlers grow out from my forehead.
“That’s good,” he cleared his throat a little as if I wasn’t the only one suffering from a case of nerves, “Ah, well, I was wondering, if it’s okay with you, if I could talk to Odette for a minute.”
My feet stopped mid stride without my permission. “Huh?”
“Ah, yeah, well. I mean, I’ve been stressing about tomorrow for a while now. And I really wanna take her somewhere nice, you know? So I figured, instead of worrying about it, I’d just... ask her?” The last part was phrased as more of a question though it was meant as a statement.
What he was asking was simple enough. All I had to do was hand over the phone, he’d ask her a question, she would answer, ‘nough said. But the problem was, I hadn’t told Odette about Daniel yet, much less mention the plans for tomorrow night. God, I was a horrible mother. Crushing her dreams, keeping secrets- my list of transgressions were never-ending!
“Danny, let me call you back!” I rushed.
“Oh. Alri-“ Click. I cringed at the realization that I had cut him off in my haste. Whoops.
Wringing my phone in my hands, I plunked down beside Odette apprehensively, feeling the pulse at my neck throb.
“Odette, honey, I have to tell you something.”
She didn’t say a thing, only stared at me, her back as stiff as board.
“I’ve met someone,” I began hesitantly, “He’s really nice and he wants to meet you. His-his name is Daniel.”
“Oh.”
Oh. Oh? Was that a good oh or a bad oh.
“He wants to take us out for dinner tomorrow night, but he isn’t quite sure what you'd like, so he’s called to ask you.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” I echoed, clueless, “Is that okay? Would you like to speak with him? He’s super nice, I promise!”
She nodded, hesitantly.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want you. I won’t force you-”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
I released a relieved breath and redialled the number.
●●●
The next chapter is the one I have been dying to write.
YOU ARE READING
HAPPY | ✔
ChickLitIronically, for someone named after the jolly emotion, Joy is quite sad. But justifiably, she hasn't really had much reason to squeal in happiness these days. Stuck in a job she hates with responsibilities so paramount she feels asphyxiated on a goo...
