Chapter 21: Daddy

Sullivan sat straight up in my bed.

"Good morning," he said to the doorway.

Rosetta stood there in her pajamas, with her octopus hanging from one hand.

She looked at him, and at me, and at the quilt.

"Because he stayed," I said. "He's staying. A lot."

"Like a sleepover?"

"Sort of."

"A girl in my class has a dad who sleeps in her mom's bed."

"That's right."

"Is that because they're married?"

Sullivan made a small choking noise.

"We're not married," I said. "We're figuring it out."

Rosetta considered this with her head on one side.

"Okay," she said. "Can I have waffles?"

He made them.

He stood at my stove in yesterday's shirt and burned the first three.

Rosetta sat on the counter next to him and gave directions.

"You have to wait for the light."

"What light?"

"The green one, Sullivan. It tells you."

"The light's broken."

"It's not broken, you're just impatient."

I leaned in the doorway with my coffee and watched my daughter instruct a man who had once disarmed a bomb.

The fourth waffle came out perfect.

Rosetta bit into it and stopped.

She frowned, and put two fingers into her mouth, and pulled.

"Mama!"

She held up a tiny white tooth, the size of a grain of rice, with a smear of syrup on it.

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