CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | RORY
I made a final pass through my hair with a comb, then I stood back and glanced at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I barely recognized the guy staring back at me.
My beard was trimmed, my hair was slicked back into a catalogue-model coif, and I was wearing a freshly-pressed denim button-up shirt and navy blue chinos. Give me a pair of black-framed glasses and a vegan latte, and I’d almost pass for a fucking coffee shop hipster.
I popped open the top button on the shirt and stretched out the collar, trying to make it look a bit more natural… a bit more me.
“Come onnnn, Dad!” Charlie groaned impatiently from the other room, her voice muffled through the bathroom door.
“Alright, alright!” I called back. “I’m coming!”
I gave the collar another tug, then I sighed in defeat and pushed open the bathroom door.
Charlie was bouncing impatiently on the edge of my bed, where she had set up a ‘judging panel’ consisting of Mr. Flipper and a few other stuffed animals-turned-fashion critics. She stopped bouncing when I stepped out of the bathroom, and her eyes locked onto me as she analyzed my outfit.
I strutted out into my bedroom like I was on a catwalk, then I planted my hands on my hips and did a 360.
A few years ago, this routine would have easily had Charlie rolling around on the floor and howling with laughter… but when I came full-circle, I saw that my seven-year old was all business. Her lips were pursed, her nose was wrinkled, and she was stroking her chin thoughtfully as she inspected my denim shirt.
I gotta say, when I asked Charlie to help me pick out an outfit for my date tonight with Des, I hadn’t expected my seven-year old to morph into a miniature Anna Wintour.
Then again, my daughter had been full of surprises lately.
Our conversation on the drive home from the firehouse had opened the floodgates. When we sat down at the breakfast table the following morning, Charlie had proudly read me my ‘love horoscope’ from an app on her iPad. And it didn’t end there. When I drove her to school, she pointed out all the single mothers in the carpool lane. Later that night, she grilled me about my dating preferences over cartons of Chinese takeout…
Finally I had caved and told her all about Des. I started at the beginning, how we met, how we grew up together, how we had been torn apart… and how we had found each other again. By the time I wrapped up the kid-friendly retelling of our first date, Charlie was practically planning our wedding.
“Let’s take it one date at a time!” I had told her.
Charlie’s enthusiasm hadn’t waned since then. She wanted to know everything about Desiree, what is her favorite movie? Does she like Frozen? What job does she have? What is her favorite color? Does she have a dog? What about a cat? What kind of car does she have? Does she like to go swimming? Does she have a bike?
Now that it’s date night, Charlie has called off the inquisition and turned her attention to playing ‘Fashion Police.’
She had already nixed my first two outfits, and I was hoping the third time would be a charm...
“Well?” I asked, dropping my arms by sides. “What do you think, kiddo?”
Charlie’s nostrils flared dramatically as she let out a heavy sigh, then she threw up her arms and shook her head.
“It’s just all wrong, Daddy!” she said in an exasperated voice. “Blue just isn’t your color!”
“What do you mean?!” I gasped, feigning shock as I glanced down at my shirt and pants. “I thought I looked great in blue!”
“No, Daddy,” Charlie said firmly. “You look like the garbage man.”
“The garbage man?!” I stammered. I had to force myself not to laugh as I pictured the grumpy old garbage man who emptied out the dumpster behind our apartment block. He wore a navy blue jumpsuit, but besides the color, I couldn’t think of any similarities between his uniform and my outfit. But Charlotte stuck to her guns,
“You don’t look like you. You have to wear something else!”
“Ok, ok…” I grumbled, turning back towards my closet. “But I’m running out of options, here…”
“Just wear normal clothes, Daddy,” Charlotte said, pushing her way around me and poking her head into the closet.
“But my normal clothes aren’t very nice--”
“If Desiree likes you, then she’ll like your clothes too!” she insisted as she flipped through the clothes hanging in the closet.
“You know what?” I smiled proudly down at my daughter, “That’s really good advice. I like that.”
Tonight was a special night. Tonight, I was going to do what I should have done already, I was going to tell Des about my daughter.
At least… that’s what I planned on doing, if I ever managed to find an outfit that warranted my daughter’s seal of approval.
Charlotte reached for a pair of torn denim jeans that were hanging in the closet. “You can wear these pants, and…” she turned her gaze to the assortment of t-shirts hanging at the opposite side of the closet, but before she could make her selection, my cell phone started ringing from the nightstand.
“Hold that thought, kiddo,” I ruffled Charlie’s hair as I strode out of the closet and reached for the phone.
According to caller ID, the incoming call was from Sally -- the babysitter that I had hired for tonight, per Bryce McKinley’s glowing recommendation.
I hope she’s not calling because she’s running late, I thought, glancing at my watch as I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Hello?”
“Hi Mr. McAlister!” a high-pitched voice squealed into my ear from the other line. “This is Sally!”
“Hey Sally,” I grimaced, holding the phone away from my ear. “Is everything alright?”
“Umm… well, not really,” she mumbled in a voice that was still several octaves too high. “You see…”
For forty-five very painful seconds, I listened to Sally ramble almost incoherently about tuba lessons and a broken down car. I could barely understand what she was saying, but when she started apologizing profusely, I realized that she wasn’t going to make it tonight.
“Daddy, I found it!” Charlie cheered, poking her head out of the closet and beaming at me. “I found the perfect outfit!”
“Great,” I said weakly. “Now all we need is a babysitter…”
***
Fifteen minutes later I was wearing that ‘perfect outfit’ as I paced back and forth across the kitchen with my cell phone pressed against my ear. I was desperately trying to find a last-minute replacement for Sally, but I had already exhausted the list of recommended babysitters.
Now, as a last resort, I was trying to call in another favor with Bryce McKinley himself…
“Hey Daddy!” Charlotte squeaked from behind me, prodding her finger into my back.
“One second, sweetheart,” I said, tapping my fingers on the phone impatiently as the ringtone echoed in my ear.
I heard Charlotte grunt impatiently and stomp out of the kitchen, just as the ringtone cut off and a robotic voice began to recite an automated voicemail message.
Fuck.
I ended the call and shoved the phone into my pocket. I rubbed my forehead, trying to think of a solution… and that’s when I heard the front door swing open.
I froze. From my vantage point in the kitchen, the front door was out of view… but I could hear everything that was going on in the other room.
“Oh!” Desiree’s surprised voice fluttered through the wall. I immediately cringed.
This is all wrong… so, so wrong.
“Are you Desiree?!” Charlie asked eagerly. Based on the squeal of her voice, you’d think she was face to face with fucking Olaf the snowman from Frozen.
“Umm… yes?”
Desiree sounded confused. Why wouldn’t she be? She probably expected me to open the door, but instead she got a spunky seven-year old who somehow knows her name…
This scenario had never entered my head when Des and I agreed to meet at my apartment. The plan was to meet outside, hop into my car, and drive to dinner together. I hadn’t planned on this.
I took a deep breath, then I forced myself to step out of the kitchen. As soon as I turned the corner into the front entryway of the apartment, I spotted Des standing in the open doorway. Her eyes flicked up and met mine, and her brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Rory…”
“Hey,” I said as I stepped behind my daughter and rested my hands on my shoulder. “Des, there’s somebody very special that I’d like you to meet.”
She glanced from me to Charlie, then back up at me.
“This is my daughter,” I said proudly.
“My name is Charlotte Rae McAlister!” Charlie chirped on cue. “But you can call me Charlie! That’s what all my friends call me!”
“Well it’s very nice to meet you, Charlie!” Des smiled. “I love your dress -- pink is my favorite color!”
“Really?! Mine too!” Charlie gushed, staring down at the pink dress she was wearing with a newfound sense of awe. Then she giggled and twirled around the entryway.
Des glanced up at me and chuckled.
“Des, I can explain--”
“She’s adorable,” she cut me off. Then she added playfully, “I guess that gene must skip a generation, huh?”
I was stunned. Somehow, with that one smile and that one joke, she had smoothed out all the wrinkles and made everything ok.
Well, almost everything…
“So we’ve got a slight problem,” I said. “The babysitter bailed, and I haven’t been able to find a back-up yet--”
Suddenly Charlie was at my side, tugging on my elbow.
“Daddy, come here!” she hissed.
I leaned down and she cupped her hands around my ear, then whispered -- in a voice loud enough that the apartment next door could probably hear it, “Why don’t we cook dinner for Desiree together?!”
I sighed, glancing up at Des.
“Come on, Daddy!” Charlie whispered loudly. “You can make pancakes!”
“Pancakes?” I hissed back, scrunching my eyebrows together. “For dinner?!”
Charlie just nodded enthusiastically, “Remember what your love horoscope said! You have to show her your strengths!”
“I don’t think the horoscope was referring to pancakes,” I said. I glanced back up at Des, who was biting down on her lip to stop herself from giggling.
“Hey, I have an idea!” she smiled down at me. “Why don’t we just cook dinner here? That way, we don’t need a babysitter!”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Charlie wriggled around excitedly as I stood up.
“Are you sure?” I eyed Des, trying to offer her an escape route. “You don’t have to stick around…”
“Are you kidding?! This is going to be a blast!” she grinned. Then she shot me a wink and added, “Maybe we could even go totally crazy and make pancakes for dinner!”
That was the last straw for Charlie, who immediately began bouncing across the room like a kangaroo that just swallowed a pound of ecstacy.
“You’re a saint,” I mouthed silently to Des. She just cocked her head and grinned, then she looped her arm through mine and said,
“So… where’s the kitchen?”