Harrison Avenue // H.S.

Bottles of Paint, Bottles of Wine

[Ellison]

After her insistence to help in my attempts to tackle the closet of our New York apartment for the last hour and a half, Dylanne has found a new priority. Dylanne's help really looked more like taking the nicely folded clothes that I put on one side of the room and turning it into a pile that she could bury herself in on the other side. She sang a little "help" with every shirt of Harry's or mine that she picked up. Unfortunately, her little song didn't exactly translate to her actions.

I can't blame her though, she's only two.

Now, she's running down the hallway with her hands full and she's on a mission. I'm close behind her, partially because I need to make sure she's headed to Harry like she told me was. Partially because I'm in desperate need of a glass of wine and the kitchen is in the same direction.

"Daddy!" her voice is a bit of a squeal as she searches for Harry, the basket in her hands rattling with every movement of her slight waddle, slight run down the hall. "Daddy," she says again. "Mummy said paint nails."

Her feet pad over the rug that lines the floor of the hallway and she keeps running until she reaches the end where it opens up into our living room. I'm directly behind her, feeling a little relieved that she makes it to the end without falling on her face.

"Daddy!" she almost shouts it this time. Harry looks up from his place on the couch, quickly turning his attention to Dylanne. There's a hum of music from the record player in the room, a quiet guitar with soft vocals singing to provide a little background noise. "Mummy said paint nails," she repeats again, extending her arms out with the basket still in her hands, filled with colored nail polish.

"Did she?" Harry questions, looking up to me with a smile.

"Yes, that's exactly what mummy said," I tell Harry, as I continue walking to the kitchen, patting Dylanne gently on the top of her head as I move past her. "Dylanne has been busy helping with the clothes and she wants her daddy to paint her nails in return. Only seems fair, hmm?" I smirk back at him.

"Right then," Harry says with a little extra enthusiasm as he directs his full attention to her. He also sits up from his slouch on the couch and gently grabs the basket of nail polish from Dylanne to set it on the coffee table in front of him. "Right this way, miss," he motions, scooting her closer to the table. "Welcome to the spa – I am so very excited to see you. Have you already chosen the color for your nails this evening?"

I've made it to the kitchen but can still hear his soft words to her. Then I smile to myself as I grab a bottle of wine, using the corkscrew to open it up. From behind the island counter of our kitchen I watch Harry help Dylanne pick out five different colors to paint her nails as I pour the wine into two glasses. One for him and one for me.

"Pink," Harry says, holding up a nail polish bottle.

"Piiiink," Dylanne repeats after him.

"Yellow," he says with another bottle.

"Lellow," Dylanne attempts the word.

He does this with each other bottle of polish they pick out, Dylanne mimicking the combination of sounds he makes. She's not one to stay still or even be occupied by one single for very long – again, she's only two. Harry is a little magic though and getting her nails painted is one of the few things she practices patience in.

I decide to move my way back over to them, holding both glasses of wine in my hand as I walk around the couch to sit down next to Harry. My glass is already significantly emptier than the one I poured for him, and he smiles at me as I scoot closer to his spot on the couch. Dylanne is busy picking up each bottle of polish, turning the ones with sparkles to watch the shimmer swirl. Then she sets her hands on the table, spreading her fingers out because she knows the drill and whispers a little "ready" to Harry.