Page 87 of DadBod
Ryann and Calvin are sitting at the kitchen counter waiting for us, or her. “Your dad wants to take you to Hamilton,” she says excitedly. “Just the three of you.”
I’m curious why she would make that final point about “Just the three of you.” No doubt due to Ryann.
“Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
“I’ve seen it,” my daughter states matter-of-factly.
“You have? When?”
“A couple of years ago. My mom took me.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth goes quiet but just for a moment. “I heard it was really good. Was it?”
Ryann shrugs. “It was okay.”
“Would Calvin like it?”
“Yes!” Calvin shouts. “I want to see it. A kid in my class said it was the bomb.”
Rolling her eyes, Ryann adds, “Yeah, he’d like it.” She looks at me. “It’d be just the three of us?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth answers for me. “Just you three.”
Why is that so fucking important? Ryann needs to get used to Elizabeth.
My daughter shrugs, and I realize at that moment, I’m sick of the fucking shrugs. “I guess I could see it again.”
“Before anyone gets too excited, I’ll need to see if I can get tickets. They sell out fast.”
“You can do it, Dad. Don’t you know someone?”
“He does,” Elizabeth says with a snort. “Of course, he does.”
My two kids laugh right along with Elizabeth. Even Ryann’s got a smile on her face. I realize at that moment how long it’s been since I’d seen that smile.
Ignoring the fun they’re having at my expense, I have more to say on the matter. “We’re going to be swamped at the restaurant while Hamilton is in town. I’ll need you two helping us out.”
“At the restaurant?” My kid’s eyes are as big as saucers. “I’m not working at the restaurant.”
“Yes. You are. You’re going to help Gianna host.”
“You want me to work at the restaurant?” She sounds absolutely disgusted at the idea.
“Yes. It’s time you helped. You’re fourteen. Old enough.”
“At the restaurant?”
“What the hell is wrong with the restaurant? It’s good enough for me. It’s good enough for Elizabeth.”
“Me too,” Calvin says, bouncing up and down in his seat.
Ryann makes the most god-awful sound. “Please don’t compare me to her.”
That’s it. I’m fucking sick of my kid’s treatment of Elizabeth. “Knock that off. You’re not better than Elizabeth. You’re not better than any of us. You’re going to fucking work.” I walk over to the drawer where Elizabeth stowed the chore chart. “Speaking of work.” I yank the paper out and tear part of it. Laying it on the counter, I flatten it out with my hand. “Chores. You’re now going to do chores around the house.”
Ryann’s mouth is agape. No other word to describe it. She’s leaning over to get a closer look at the chart. “This is all her idea.” She’s pointing a finger at Elizabeth. “Why can’t she do this work? She’s getting paid to sit on her ass all day long.”
And that’s it.