Part Twenty-three
"I don't want to wear a dress, Mommy."
"Of course you do, darling," Sydney says with a sigh. It is the next morning, and she and Michael are getting the children ready for the day. "Don't you want to look pretty?"
"I don't care," Emily says petulantly.
"Come on, princess," Michael says from where he sits, giving Grace a bottle. "Put on the dress for Mommy."
Emily sighs and, as if making a huge sacrifice, raises her arms above her head so her mother can put the dress on.
"I'm going to go brush my teeth, Emily, and when I get back, I'll fix your hair, okay?"
"I don't want my hair fixed."
Sydney sighs. Looks like it's going to be one of those days.
She moves to the hotel suite's bathroom, and Michael follows, Grace still in his arms.
"Are you okay?" he asks. "You've been pretty quiet since we left your dad's last night."
"I'm fine," she says, leaning against the sink. "I've just been trying to process the whole experience." They'd actually had a fairly civil meal, though Sydney had felt like they had been walking on eggshells the entire time-- she'd ignored all of her father's vaguely disapproving frowns, and she could practically see her father holding his tongue at a few instances.
"I think it went okay," Michael says cautiously.
Sydney frowns, struggling to put her thoughts into words. "I started out so angry," she says slowly. "All I could think about is how my father doesn't know us at all, so he invents personalities for us based on how he imagines people in our situation think and feel."
"What do you mean?"
Sydney sighs. "Like you're this rich lawyer, and I'm your wife, I stay at home with the kids, so automatically he assumes that you're the type of man who wants to keep the little woman at home for the sake of your image and your ego, and that I pretend to be happy but secretly want something--" she considers. "Something different. I refuse to say something more."
Michael silently waits for her to continue.
"But last night it seemed almost like he was starting to see past those ideas," Sydney says with a slight smile. "Like, he said that you're good with Grace, and I can't imagine him ever seeing that before."
Michael returns her slight smile.
"And I said that it's impossible to get Emily to do anything she doesn't want to do, and he said, just like her mother. I almost feel like that was his way of acknowledging that he knows that I wouldn't be living the type of life I live if it didn't feel right, you know?" Sydney takes a deep breath. "And you said at the beginning that I was behaving like a spoiled child."
"Yes," Michael says softly. Sydney loves that he only acknowledges it, doesn't try to take it back.
"You were right," Sydney sighs. "And I think that subconsciously I wanted him to call me on it, not you. I wanted to pick a fight, to have it out with him. But I don't know if that would have been the best thing, you know?" She runs a hand back through her hair. "Maybe at this point in our lives it's enough that we can be civil for the kids' sake, and that we're both finally trying."
"Maybe," Michael agrees.
Sydney smiles at him. "Are you going to call Eric?"
Michael looks away. "I don't know, Syd."
"Maybe you shouldn't," Sydney says softly.
Michael looks at her in surprise. "What?"
"If you're not ready to give him a second chance," Sydney says. "It might not do you any good. I walked into my father's house last night ready to storm out at the tiniest provocation. I wasn't ready."
"But it turned out okay."
"Because of you," Sydney points out. "If you hadn't been there to call me on the way I was acting, it could have been a disaster."
Michael's eyes light up. "Come with me."
Sydney blanches. "You don't need me, Michael."
"But I want you there," he insists. "I'll tell you what, we'll meet him at a park, take the kids, he and I'll shoot baskets and Jack and Emily can play on the swings or whatever, and you can just sort of keep an eye on things and step in if things get ugly."
"Like a referee?" Sydney asks, amused.
"Like a referee," he agrees. "Oh, you're finished, aren't you, Gracie?" he asks his daughter. He takes the bottle from her and repositions her in his arms so he can burp her. "So will you come?"
"Yeah," Sydney says with a small smile. "I'll come."
He kisses her on the cheek and leaves her to brush her teeth and wonder what the hell she's just gotten herself into.
