Delilah

           “We’re in the car. And I’m wearing long sleeves and jeans. I don’t need sunscreen.”

            “Your face is getting all the UV damage and none of the vitamin D right now. That’s why they say to wear sunscreen every day, even if you’re just getting sunlight through windows.” He says, speeding up when he sees the light turn yellow. “I’m not paying for your Botox in ten years, that’s all I’m saying.

A symphony of car horns blow as we hurtle through the intersection several seconds after the light turned red.  “It feels itchy to me, the way the sun beats down through the windshield. The heat lingers on your skin, no matter how much you crank up the A/C. You know what I mean?”

“You don’t have to say ‘you know what I mean’ after everything you say Grace. And if you’re going to explain something you should explain it well enough where you’re confident I know what you mean by the end of your thought.”

Jeremy clicks the button to unlock the doors as he pulls into the driveway of his ex-wife’s house, then looks to me expectantly. I jump to grab my backpack from the backseat but forget to unbuckle my seatbelt first and it tightens, pulling restrictively at my neck and stomach. Jeremy leans over and unbuckles it for me.

“Thanks again for doing this.” He says, rescinding his hand to hover over the gear shift.

“Oh, it’s no problem. You know how much I love Delilah. And it’s not like I have much else to do anyway.” I force a laugh.

“She was jumping up and down when she found out you were watching her today.”

“I bet Vivian loved that.”

He releases a laugh, the kind where air is exhaled sharply through the nose.

“Am I making you late?”

He opts to adjust the collar on his shirt in the rearview mirror in lieu of a verbal answer.

“Sorry. Have a good day. Good luck with the presentation.” I lean in towards him. After a millisecond of stiffness, he reactively reaches over and pecks me on the cheek.

           An hour later, Delilah sits in front of me, her hazel eyes alight with excitement. She holds the mom Barbie who holds the baby Barbie. She marches them around the Barbie dream house, bringing them into different room seemingly at random.

For the most part she’s quiet as she does this, but here and there she mutters little bits and pieces of dialogue under her breath. No little baby, no more cereal- you need to have some fruit instead! Oh you’re so cute little baby. It’s time to change your diaper baby. It’s time to take a tubby.

 “Delilah, where’s the Daddy Barbie?”

She ignores me and keeps playing.

“Lilah, is there a Daddy dolly?”

She shakes her head. “Mommy threw him away. Can you put the Mommy’s shoes on for me?”

I do, feeling stupid.

When she speaks in place of the dolls, she does it in a whisper that’s higher pitched than her regular voice. She manipulates the Barbie’s arms to lay the baby down in its crib. Once the fake baby is tucked in, she has the Barbie mom stand over and watch her child sleep for a moment. She whispers, “Good night little baby.”

Delilah lays the Barbie mom in her own bed, then sits back and stares at both her sleeping dolls. She lays back until her head finds my lap, and her little fingers wrap around mine. I brush the hair back from her forehead with my free hand. I repeat the motion over and over, feeling the soft skin of her face and the silky texture of her blonde hair. She falls asleep almost immediately. After a few minutes, I scoop her up and lay her down on the couch, covering her with blankets. I click on the TV, turning down the volume so it’s not too loud. I don’t mute it. There’s a selfish part of me that hopes it will accidentally wake her up sooner rather than later.

                                                           ¾

“But I don’t want to go to the park.” She pouts. She rubs her eyes, still half-asleep.

           “Just for a little bit. We’ve been inside all day.”

“No we haven’t!” She furrows her light blonde eyebrows into one line. She puts one hand on her hip in defiance.

           I throw a handful of baby carrots into a container, shake out half a bag of Goldfish into another, throwing everything into my backpack as I go. I add some pre-packed fruit snacks, two bananas, two apples and some oranges. She never eats half the food I pack but it soothes me to have it with us anyway.  

           “You want to put on your shoes yourself or do you want me to do it?” I shoulder the backpack and pick up her two pink, princess-covered tennis shoes.

           She runs over and reaches for them, jumping up and down impatiently.  She giggles as I dangle the shoes above her and jumps higher to get them. Her white chicklet teeth peek through, another giggle slipping out. Four Velcro straps later, she’s standing over me telling me to tie my Converse faster.

           “You have an owie.” She reaches out and touches the bruise on my forearm. I had forgotten and accidentally rolled up my sleeves. “What happened.” It comes out as a statement.

           I brush her hand away and cover it with my own. “Oh, it was so silly. I fell down and got a bruise.”

She looks me straight in the face, unconvinced and concerned.

           “But it didn’t hurt. Not at all.”

           “Do you need the boo-boo bunny?”

I shake my head and smile. “No no, it doesn’t hurt Delilah. I promise.”

           I finish tying my shoes and stand. “Ready?”

                                                           ¾

           Each time I give her a push on the swing, the skirt of her dress flies up around her and she giggles. “Higher! Higher!”

           I push her with the same amount of effort. “Look how high you’re going!”

           “More higher!”

           “Here you go!”

           I push her with slightly more effort, but her light little body goes higher than I intended. She giggles and screams with delight. I grab her the second she comes back to me, stopping the swing dead in its tracks. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

           “No Gracie no, keep going!”

           “Let’s go play on the slides.”

           “No no, again! I want to go again.”

           “Delilah-”

           “Please Gracie.”

I concentrate on my breath, four-seconds-in-four seconds-hold-four-seconds-exhale as I step back to give her another push. I release, swinging noticeably lower this time. By the grace of god she doesn’t ask to be pushed higher again.

           When she finally gets bored, we have a snack in the grass. Ants crawl up our legs which makes me want to jump out of my skin. Delilah is thrilled by them, so we stay. She names the first one she finds on her thigh Andy. She thinks each new ant that marches up her shins is also Andy. Maybe that’s why it bothers her less. In her mind there aren’t hundreds of ants crawling all over us, we merely gained two new loyal pets. She names mine Doug.

           “I have to go potty.” She says, handing me an apple with three bites out of it. I take a bite from the opposite side and scoop up my backpack then her. Regrettably, I’m still chewing when we enter the park district’s public bathroom.

           “It smells thisgusting in here.” She says as I set her down.

           “It does.”

           She enters one of the handicapped bathroom stalls and looks at me. “Come in.”

           “Go potty and I’ll be right here when you come out.”

           “No. Come in with me.”

           “I can’t.”

           “Why?”

           “Because we’re not... I’m not-we’re not family.”

She crosses her arms indignantly. “Yes we are!” Her eyes bore into mine. I can feel the sense of betrayal radiating off of her. I sigh.

           “Okay. I’ll come in and face the other way while you go potty.” I say this in the hopes that if she happens to recount this moment to anyone, which I’m sure she will, she repeats that detail. She pees and stands up, and upon my insistence, wipes by herself before pulling up her pants.

           “Your turn now.”

           “I don’t have to pee.” I did have to pee.

           “It’s not good to hold it Gracie.” She says sternly.

           “Okay. But you have to face the other way like I did.”

           She turns around for about two seconds but immediately walks over to me the second I’m peeing.

           “What’s that?” She points to my thigh. The relief that she isn’t pointing at my pubic hair dissipates quickly when I see her finger touching the large bruise on my upper thigh. “That’s a big one.”

           “It doesn’t hurt.”

           “Why do you have so many boo-boos?” Her eyes run down my thigh and land on a deep cut above my knee.

           I finish and pull up my pants as fast as humanly possible.

           “Let’s go wash our hands.”

After the bathroom, she goes down the slide a handful of times, then tries out the monkey bars, which was more like me holding her and walking back and forth while as she touches each metal bar. At four pm I tell her it’s time to walk home. She concedes without protest. She walks by herself for most of the way but then gets tired a few blocks away from home. I pick her up and hold her close to me. My free arm cradles her head while she rests it on my shoulder.

           When I see Veronica’s car pulls in the driveway, I swallow hard and tell Delilah that her mom is home. She starts to cry. When Veronica walks in, she runs and hides.

           “Thanks again Grace, I really appreciate it.” Veronica says. “Delilah! Come say goodbye to Grace! DELILAH.”

           I go and find her instead. She’s laying on her bed, curled up in a ball with her favorite blanket that she has aptly named, “blue blankie.”

           “Hey Lilah, it’s time for me to go babe.”

           She burrows her head into blue blankie, her breathing still ragged from crying.

           “Thanks for hanging out with me today.”

She lays unmoving. I lean over her and wrap my arms around her as much as I can without moving her. She turns into me and holds me back.

“See you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” She squeezes me. When I hear Veronica’s footsteps reach the bedroom door, I pull away. “Bye girlie.”

I keep a smile pasted on my face as we wave to each other and keep smiling as I get in the Uber. A block and a half away, the smile is still clinging stupidly to my face and I’m smiling at absolutely nothing. I rummage through my backpack and check for the tenth time that I have my passport, social security card, wallet, and antidepressants.

“You okay miss?” the driver asks, as we pass the playground. “You going on a trip or something?”

Another little girl pushes her younger brother on the swings. “I am, yeah.”

“Long time before you see your family again?” He says sympathetically.

I nod.

“You sure packed light for someone going on a trip.” He laughs. “Can’t be going for that long.”

I nod again. “You would think.”