“She’s here.” I reach down to grab Lotus’s belongings. Scoop up my jeans. “I’ll be right back.”
When I walk
into my bedroom, Lotus sits on the bed, the tulle skirt flared out around her, an anxious look on her pretty face.
“Is everything okay?” she asks. “Is the coast clear?”
“Yours, I believe,” I say, offering her the panties.
She grimaces, slipping them on and her feet into the red shoes.
“The coast is not clear.” I reach for her hand and walk toward the door. “There was a, let’s call it a mix-up, to give Bridget the benefit of the doubt, and Simone is going to the game today after all.”
Lotus stops, tugging on her hand. “What are you doing?”
“Babe, she was standing beside your purse, panties, and size-six shoes, which obviously weren’t mine. She’s not stupid, and I didn’t want to lie to her. I told her you’re here, and that we’re dating.”
“Is she okay?”
That’s the question I ask myself every day. I wonder what goes on in my daughter’s quick mind—how she’s processing the changes in her life. Huge sea changes that have come in waves and thrown her world into chaos.
“She’ll be okay,” I say with more confidence than I sometimes feel. “Lying to her won’t help. Come on.”
After a brief hesitation, Lotus nods and follows me.
When we reach the living room, my daughter sits on the couch typing on her phone. With the open floor plan, I can see Bridget in my kitchen, poking around in my refrigerator.
“Do you not have any mineral water?” she yells.
I ignore her.
“Moni, you remember Lotus, right?”
She scrutinizes every detail of Lotus’s appearance, starting at her red shoes and inspecting every inch to the wild platinum curls.
“How do you get your hair to do that?” Simone asks, her brows pinched, eyes curious.
“Um, to do what?” Lotus touches her hair uncertainly.
“Curl and stuff,” Simone answers grudgingly, like even this small interest in Lotus is being dragged from her.
“Well, it wouldn’t always.” Lotus laughs dryly. “When I first tried, it wouldn’t curl at all. It’s taken me a long time to figure out the products that work for me.”
Lotus eyes Simone’s hair, scraped back into a ponytail.
“I’d guess you’re a 3C, like me,” Lotus says.
“What’s a 3C?” Simone asks.
“It’s just a hair type. There’s a system to determine hair texture. It helps you figure out the best products.” Lotus hesitates, biting her lip before speaking. “I could help you if—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Bridget snaps from the kitchen. “Kenan, I wanted to talk about tomorrow if we can.”
“About what?” I ask with deliberate calm. I have no desire to speak privately with her. We’ll just fight, and I’d rather do that under Dr. Packer’s unbiased third-party watch.
Bridget slides a meaningful look to Lotus and then back to me. I want to tell her to leave my apartment and go ruin someone else’s Sunday, but Lotus clears her throat, drawing my attention. She shakes her head subtly.
“I need to get going. I’m catching an Uber,” she says, making her way to the door. She smiles at my daughter. “It was nice seeing you again, Simone.”