JENNIE

"Grandpa! Grandpa! Guess who I saw!"

Maddie starts yelling the second she's out of the car, running up onto the porch of the house. My father sits in his rocking chair, stalling his movement. "Who?"

"Breezeo!" she says, stopping on the porch in front of him, flailing her arms as she launches into her story. "She was at the store, and then she didn't believe that the ducks like kale, so she came to the park to see and she fed the ducks, too! But I think she got scared, 'cuz she didn't feed them good, but they ate it anyway."

My father blinks at her as he absorbs those words. "Breezeo."

She nods. "But not real Breezeo, 'cuz she's not real, so she's Lalisa."

"Lalisa."

Another nod. "I told him she should come here, too, 'cuz you like Breezeo, and she said maybe she would the next time."

My father lets out a laugh of disbelief. "Ha! I'd like to see her come here."

"Dad," I warn.

"Me, too!" Maddie says, not realizing that's a borderline threat. She runs inside, leaving me alone with my father. He says nothing, but yet his expression says it all.

"It kind of snowballed," I say, sitting down on the porch beside him. "We need to have the stranger danger talk because Maddie took to her right away."

"Like mother, like daughter," he says. "I'm guessing you didn't tell her who she is to Maddie."

"Yeah, no… not sure how to explain it."

"You just tell Maddie."

"I don't think it's that simple."

"But it is," he says. "She's a smart girl. Besides, do you really think she'll take the news bad?"

"No, I think she's going to be the happiest kid on the planet, which is half the problem. Because what happens if Lalisa lets her down?"

"Hate to break it to you, but that's not something you can control. Will she ever be disappointed? Probably. But Lalisa will love her, because who wouldn't? And if Lalisa's making an effort, Maddie deserves a chance to love her in return."

He's right, of course, but he makes it sound so simple when it feels anything but at the moment.

"You realize we're talking about the same person that you once called the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone's daughter?"

He laughs.

"Grandpa, can I have this?" Maddie asks, bursting out onto the porch, holding a banana Popsicle. She licks it, not waiting for permission, a bite already taken off the top.

"What? You want my Popsicle?" He scrunches up his face. "No way! I was saving that for later!"

She freezes, wide eyes flickering between the Popsicle and him. "Uh-oh."

"I'm kidding," he says, nudging her. "Of course you can have it, kiddo."

It's after dark when we make it home. Maddie's fast asleep, so I pick her up and manage to carry her into the apartment. Her shoes are already off, abandoned in the car, so I set her in bed as she is, covering her up and kissing her forehead. "Love you, sweetheart."

She sleepily mumbles something back that sounds like 'crazy ducks'.

Exhaustion weighs me down, so heavy in my bones that my insides feel brittle, pieces of me already broken. I take a hot bath, trying to relax, but nothing can shut off my thoughts. They're a jumbled mess.

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel anymore.

Getting out of the tub, I throw on my robe and settle in my bedroom. Reaching into my bedside stand, I pull out the old business card and lay down in bed with my cell phone.

Lisa Manoban

Beneath her name is her contact information, along with her management on the other side. The cards are tucked into the envelopes that show up with the grotesque checks. I never accepted a single penny of her money, but once, long ago, I kept one of the cards. Just in case.

Opening my text messages, I type her number in, hesitating as I stare at the blank screen. What to say?

Hey, it's Jennie.

I hit send without letting myself think too much about it, knowing if I give myself time to second-guess this, I'll never go through with it.

A response pops up within seconds.

Hey. Everything okay?

Is everything okay? No. Everything feels so out of control.

Just wondering if you're busy tomorrow.

No, what's up?

What's up is I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I do it, whatever this is, while I still have the nerve.

Thought we could get together to tell Maddie the truth.

Her response isn't as quick this time, a minute, maybe two, before a message pops up.

The truth?

Is that a problem?

A few more minutes pass of nothing. I'm starting to wonder if I'm making a mistake when my phone rings, the California number flashing across the screen. She's calling. My stomach churns. "Hello?"

There's a moment of hesitation before she says, "I didn't think you'd actually answer."

"Yeah, well, I did," I mumble, thinking I should've let it go to voicemail. "So, is there a problem?"

"No, I'm just wondering what the truth means to you."

My brow furrows as I stare up at my ceiling. "What?"

"You said you want to tell her the truth," she says. "All of it?"

I'm not sure how to answer. How much do I want to tell Maddie? How much does Lalisa need to prepare for? I wonder how much she's even faced herself.

"I don't know," I admit.

It grows eerily quiet, but I know she's still on the line. I can sense her, faintly detecting her breathing. After a moment, she lets out a deep sigh. "What time?"

Noon.

The sun is shining outside, light streaming through the open apartment windows, warming the place with a soft glow. A breeze flows through the screens, ruffling the thin white curtains as some current pop boy band plays on the radio in the living room. Maddie dances around, wearing her Sunday best—meaning she's dressed like some sort of rambunctious little superhero, with a tutu and rainbow-striped tights, a too-big black Breezeo t-shirt, complete with a fuzzy purple blanket flung around her like a cape. She's all over the place, a ball of energy this morning, while I'm… well… I'm a mess.

My eyes burn. I didn't get much sleep, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, conjuring up hypothetical conversations, playing out years worth of what if's. This morning, my hands are shaking as I busy myself cleaning, trying to distract myself from reality, but it isn't working. No matter how much I sweep and mop and scrub, I keep thinking about how big of a disaster this could become.

The song on the radio changes… a girl band this time… as a soft knock sounds from the apartment door.

"I got it!" Maddie shouts, heading for the door as I tense, in the middle of wiping down the kitchen counters for the third time.

"No, wait, hold on a second," I say, but she isn't paying me any attention. The clock on the wall reads 12:01. I told her to come by anytime in the afternoon, and it's after noon now, which means…

"Breezeo!" she announces, flinging the door open, excitedly spinning around to look for me. "Mommy, look, it's—"

"Lalisa," I say, stepping out of the kitchen, nervously rubbing my palms on the thighs of my jeans.

"Lalisa," Maddie repeats, standing in the doorway in front of her.

Lalisa stares down at her, smiling. "Maddie."

"Come in!" Maddie says, grabbing her arm—the injured one—to tug her into the apartment. She grimaces, not resisting, but her smile wavers when her eyes meet mine.

Sighing, I close the door behind them, my back pressing against it. Maddie's rambling away—about what, I don't know. I feel like I'm slipping underwater, my heart feverishly racing, but Lalisa seems to understand. She's smiling at her again, listening, as Maddie seems to give her a quick tour of the apartment.

Lalisa pauses near the small hallway that leads to the bedrooms, her gaze meeting mine again. I know what she's thinking. I'm not sure how, or even why, but the moment our eyes connect, it's like being shoved back in time—to another place, a different apartment, one somehow even smaller, but it was our home for a while.

"We can go play in my room!" Maddie says, trying to pull her that direction.

"Oh, whoa, whoa," I say, coming out of my stupor as I shove away from the door. Lalisa comes around and stranger danger seriously goes right out the window. I know she's Maddie's other parent and all, but she doesn't know that. Not yet. "Slow your roll for a second, little girl. We need to have a conversation."

Her eyes widen. I glance between her and Lalisa, their expressions nearly identical. Worried.

"I didn't do nothing," Maddie says, shaking her head.

"I know," I say, pointing to the couch. "Sit."

Maddie sits, finally letting go of her. Lalisa carefully sits down on the edge of the couch beside her. I linger a moment before perching myself on the coffee table in front of Maddie.

"I, uh…" I have no idea how to even begin. "I mean, we…"

"Maybe I should…" Lalisa starts, pausing before saying, "You know."

"It's fine," I say. "I got it."

"Got what, Mommy?" Maddie asks.

"We wanted to talk to you about something," I tell her. "About why Lalisa is here."

"To play with me?" she asks.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "Well, I mean, maybe, but that's not really it. You see, I've known her for a long time, since before you came into my life, sweetheart."

"Oh." She stares at me. "So she's gonna play with you, then?"

"What? No." I scoff, making a face. Ugh, I can feel my cheeks heating. "It's nothing like that. It's just… look, you know your friend Gina that lived beside Grandpa? You remember how she went away, and I explained that her parents decided not to live together anymore, because some parents don't live together, so she had to go stay at a different house?"

Her eyes widen again. "Do I have to go away?"

"What? No! You don't have to go anywhere."

"You promise?"

"I promise. It's not like that. I'm just saying, you know, sometimes parents don't live together, and that's okay, and it doesn't make them any less of a family. Everyone has a mom and a dad."

She shakes her head. "Not everyone."

"Yes, sweetheart. Everyone."

"Nuh-uh, Noah at my school doesn't got a dad. He's got two moms!"

"Oh, well… okay, but still, that's what I mean. Everyone has two parents."

"But Jenny doesn't got two now. She's got three, 'cuz her dad got married, so she has another different kinda mommy, right?"

"Right." Man, I'm screwing this all up. "But she still has her dad, too, so what I'm saying is—"

"I'm your dada."

Lalisa's voice is quiet as she cuts in, but it still packs enough of a punch to make me inhale sharply.

Maddie looks at her. "You wanna be my dada?"

"I do," she says. "I already am."

Maddie mouth falls open in shock. "Did you get married to Mommy?"

She blinks rapidly, caught off guard, while I choke on thin air, coughing at that question.

"Oh, no, we didn't…" Her eyes cut my way before she continues. "It's not like that. I've always been your dada."

"How?"

"How?" she repeats. "Well, I just am. Your mother, she's your mom, and I'm your dada."

"But how?" Maddie asks again.

She looks to me for help, like she's not sure what Maddie's even asking, so I chime in again before she takes that how literal and starts spilling about the birds and the bees.

"Moms and Dads aren't always together, remember? So she's still your dada even if she wasn't around."

"But where was she at?"

Maddie's asking me, not Lalisa. I know it's because she trusts me implicitly, and as much as she adores what Lalisa believes she is, Maddie doesn't her yet. But I don't know how to answer that, or if I even should. I don't know if I should be the one to explain Lalisa's absence, to make her excuses.

"I wasn't where I should've been," Lalisa chimes in. "I should've been with you, but I was…"

"Sick," I say when she struggles for words.

"Sick," she says.

"Did you have the tummy bug?" Maddie asks, looking at her.

"No, it was worse than that," she admits, "and I'm to blame, nobody else. I made some really bad choices. I—"

"Did you disappear?" Maddie asks.

"I messed up," she says. "I know I haven't been here for you, but I want to be here now, if you'll let me."

Maddie sits in silence for a moment, thinking that over, before shrugging. "Okay."

Lalisa looks stunned. "Okay?"

"Okay," Maddie says again, standing up from the couch as she grabs Lalisa's hand to pull her along again. "But you have to sleep in Mommy's bed, 'cuz mine can't fit you."

"Uh…" Lalisa laughs awkwardly as she follows Maddie. "What?"

"She's not going to live with us," I say. "Remember Jenny's parents?"

Maddie nods, looking at me. "But can she play now, Mommy? Please?"

"Of course," I say, giving her a smile. "She can stay and play as long as she wants."

Maddie drags her away before I say anything else.

I faintly hear her rambling about something from her bedroom as I try to busy myself again to keep from fixating on Lalisa's presence. I clean some more. I listen to music. I watch a bit of television.

Hours pass.

Long, long hours, some of the longest hours of my life. I don't know what they're doing, not wanting to interrupt, but I can hear Maddie laughing, and I can hear Lalisa talking, the two of them playing.

It's near dusk and I'm in the kitchen, cooking dinner, when things grow quiet. I hear footsteps behind me, restrained on the wooden floor, heading my direction.

Lalisa pauses right inside the doorway. "She fell asleep."

"Not surprised," I say. "She's been wide open all day long."

I glare at the food on the stove. She ate breakfast, and she ate lunch, but I know now dinner is a bust. Even when I wake her up, I doubt she'll eat much.

"Yeah," she says, leaning against the doorframe. "I wish I had even half of her energy. Bottle it up and take it with me for those late nights on set."

"Guess it beats the coke, huh?"

Her expression falls when I say that. Right away, I feel like crap. Ugh.

"Sorry," I say. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine," she says. "I deserve whatever you throw at me."

"Maybe so, but I told myself long ago that I wouldn't do that whole woman scorned thing."

I finish dinner, putting everything together, turning off the stove as she stands there.

"Are you hungry?" I ask. "I can make you a plate."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know, but I'm offering."

"Well, uh... okay." She strolls over to the table. "If you don't mind."

I fix two plates of food. Spaghetti and garlic bread—nothing fancy, but we get by. I'm not a good cook, frankly. The noodles are still sort of crunchy and the sauce came out of a jar. We sit at the table across from each other. She waits until I take a bite before she even touches her fork.

I pick at my food, not hungry, but once she starts eating, she doesn't stop until the plate is empty. I wonder when she last ate a home-cooked meal. I wonder if she has a hired chef. I wonder if Rosé cooks for her.

Rosé. She told me they weren't married, but beyond that, she's avoided the subject.

"Does she know?"

The question flies from my lips before I even give asking it much thought.

Her expression is guarded. "Does who know what?"

"Rosé," I say. "Does she know about our daughter?"

She hesitates, like she has to think about it. "Pretty sure she does."

"Pretty sure."

"I vaguely remember telling her," she says. "But we were both high at the time, so who knows if she believed me or if she even cared."

"Wow," I say. "That's nice to know."

"We're not…" she starts, scrubbing her hand over her face. "Look, about that…"

"It's not my business," I say. "Not anymore. Whatever you do and whoever you do it with, that's on you. But if it starts affecting Maddie—"

"It won't," she says. "It's not serious."

"Looks serious."

"Looks are deceiving. We're just friends."

"Friends," I say. "So you're telling me you've never had sex with her?"

She hesitates.

"That's what I thought," I mutter, twirling the uneaten spaghetti around on my plate.

"It wasn't serious," she says. "It was just a thing that happened."

"How long ago?"

"I don't know," she says. "It was on and off."

"When was the first time?"

I know I'm asking a lot of questions for someone whose business this isn't, but the door is wide open, and I can't stop myself from peeking inside for answers.

She hesitates again.

"Forget I asked," I say as I give up on eating, shoving out of my chair. Conversation over. I busy myself with putting the leftovers away and start cleaning up while she sits there.

"Can I help with that?" she asks when I fill the sink with hot water.

"What, you're gonna wash dishes one-handed?"

"Uh, I guess," she says. "Don't you have a dishwasher?"

"Nope," I say, glancing at the dishwasher. "Well, I do, but it doesn't work."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Who knows? Maintenance was supposed to fix it, but well, like my dad always says, they're about as useful as Congress. They never fixed my washer and dryer, either."

"What's wrong with your washer and dryer?"

"One leaks, the other doesn't heat."

She grows eerily quiet as I start washing dishes. When I glance at her, I see she's looking around, her brow furrowed. "Why do you live here?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"It's not much."

"It's enough," I say, "for us, anyway. I work in a grocery store, you know. This is what it pays for."

"Why?"

"Maybe because I never went to college like I was supposed to, so I do whatever I have to do."

"But… why?"

Turning, I look at her again.

She's staring at me with confusion.

"I send money," she says. "It should be enough."

"I don't want your money."

"Why?"

"Why, Lalisa? You're seriously asking me why?"

"Look, I'm just saying—"

"I know what you're saying, but we do just fine without your money."

"Come on, don't be that way, J."

"What way?"

"That way. I want to help."

"So be a parent, not a paycheck."

She's quiet, as I continue washing dishes. When I finish and start draining the water, she stands up to go. She takes a few steps before hesitating, saying, "I never cheated on you."

Drying my hands, I turn to her, leaning back against the counter.

"I'm serious," she says. "The past few years are a blur, so I can't tell you what I don't remember, but I know we were over before anything ever happened with her."

I nod, looking down at my hands. "I wasn't accusing you of cheating. I just wanted to know how long it took you to move on."

"Oh, well, that's an easy one," she says. "It hasn't happened."