Page 37 of Rage's Solace
Mia responds, “We thought about that. It’s the reason we decided to put it in the same place on our head.”
“You got it, pumpkin,” I quip as I glove up.”
The girls giggle, whether it’s because of my pet name for Mia or because they’re bursting with excitement, I’m not sure.
As I’m prepping the supplies, I’m in fucking wonder at myself. I never in my life thought I’d be doing half the shit I have been. At first, looking after Mia was to help Priscilla while she was in hospital. I didn’t know what I was doing, but somehow muddled through it. As the weeks wore on, I realized that Mia is a pretty neat kid, and I enjoyed doing things with her. She looked up to me and respected me. I never had that as a kid getting kicked from one placement to another, so it made me feel good to be able to step in when she needed someone. I’ve beenholding back with Priscilla, because part of me was shit scared of getting hurt again, but I realize that you can’t live your life scared of heartbreak. Sometimes you just gotta jump in and go for it. I want Prissy back and I want to be a father to this little girl. It’s fucking massive but seeing her and her friends this morning is just making me even more sure of my decision.
Each of them holds still as I section out a chunk of hair on the right side of their head and isolate it using aluminum foil. I learned from the videos I watched that this is the best way to ensure I don’t dribble the hair dye on the rest of their hair. The last thing in the world I need is to end up making a sloppy mess.
Mia complains, “You’re taking too long. I can’t sit still this long.”
I stop long enough to grab Mister Boots and put him in her lap. “Want to know the difference between a good idea and a horrible one?”
She nods as Boots settles down on her lap.
“It’s execution. We’re gonna do this right or not at all, okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, but you’re almost done, right?”
I give her a decisive nod. “Yes ma’am, I most certainly am. Now, hold still for just a few more minutes.”
The other two are much more patient and I had all three of them prepped in no time. The second I open the container of hair dye, Boots hisses, jumps down, and runs off.
I try not to do the same because the concoction I’m supposed to put on their hair smells nasty, even though it’s natural and kid safe.
Mia wrinkles her nose.
“Did you change your mind, pumpkin?” I ask in a teasing tone.
She shakes her head enthusiastically.
I dip the application brush into the dye and paint all the way down the strand, getting a little extra for good measure. Then I fold it over to keep the dye from drying out while it did its thing.
Amy says excitedly, “Do me next.”
So, I do. By the time I get to quiet Lousia, she was showing more enthusiasm. I set the timer on my phone and the girls all turn around to look into the gigantic wall mirror behind the long eight-foot counter. I don’t know at what age kids can manage to sit on a counter without falling off, so I stand guard over them like some overprotective helicopter parent.
When the alarm on my phone goes off, I carefully lean them over the sink and rinse the locks of purple hair. By the time I finish, we marvel that there really isn’t that much of a difference between the shade of purple they ended up with. I can’t help but wonder if the other brothers do things like this with their kids. They must, right?
Louisa and Amy want to get down to braid each other’s new purple strands, but Mia is content to just stare at her new purple streak in the mirror. Although her back is to me, when I gaze into the mirror, I can see her happy expression as she turns her head back and forth to catch the light shining down from overhead.
I do a double take.
The thing is, I can see me too. And for the first time, I realize how much we look alike. She has the same thick wiry brown shoulder hair that I do, only I keep mine tied back at the nape of my neck and Mia’s spills down over her shoulders. Her eyes are the same shade of green as mine. She has a similar complexion, and her nose is very similar to mine. The resemblance is uncanny. I daresay she looks more like me than her own mother.
A strange idea springs forth from the back of my mind as I stand there comparing our features. Mia could pass for my child. Suddenly, it feels like someone punched me in the gut. Priscilla taking off and everything that happened after. I know what her parents told her—that I was dead, and I’d seen my own fucking grave to prove it—but what if she’d confessed to them that she was pregnant, and they’d started all this as a way to get me out of her life? They’d made it clear that they thought I was no good, and any person who’d get a fake headstone made was capable of anything. Had Priscilla been involved? She seemed so genuine when she told me her version of events, but had she told me everything?
I calmly ask Mia, “What do you know about your father? Your real father, I mean, not Conrad.”
Mia looks sad for a moment, “I don’t know much, Mommy said he died.”
I felt a chill start to creep up my spine, “When’s your birthday, pumpkin?”
Her eyes lift to mine, and she answers without hesitation, “My birthday was seven months ago. Only five more months and I’ll be eleven.”
I freeze in place, as I do the math, it all adds up. I force myself to smile and to act normal. “Best be thinking about what you want your next birthday to look like, pumpkin. It’ll be here before you realize it.”
She scrambles down off the counter, all smiles. “Don’t worry, I won’t go overboard.”