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“Do you want me to look over anything?” I ask, hopeful.
“That’s okay, Dad. Astrid already helped me.” She smiles, her big brown eyes look happy, melting a bit of my unease.
But not enough of it. I stab at piece of broccoli. Am I letting my child down?
Astrid shoots me a questioning look, but I pretend not to see it. I’m not sure what I’m feeling exactly. And I definitely don’t want to talk about it.
“Astrid,” Violet says, dragging Astrid’s attention away from me. I take a sip of my water, trying to erase the sour taste in my mouth. No, this is silly. I’m glad Astrid is helping, and that Violet likes her so much. I wanted that. I wanted someone who would love her and take care of her when the season got busy. That’s why I hired her in the first place.
I just didn’t know that I would feel replaced so quickly.
There’s a lull in conversation as our forks scrape against the plates. It’s tense, but I think it’s only that way to me. I stab another piece of broccoli into my mouth and swallow.
“How was your day, Astrid?” I ask, trying my best to reengage. I know I’m overthinking everything and that I just need to get outside of myself. I shake my head. It’s hard to stop once it’s started. And no amount of self-awareness is going to help it go away in this moment. I must’ve not gotten enough sleep last night or something.
“It was good. It’s spirit week at school,” she says. She shrugs and stares at her plate.
“That sounds… fun.” I don’t know what else to say, she doesn’t really give me anything to go off of, and I’m not exactly great at making small talk. The only people I usually interact with are my teammates or Violet.
“How’s practice?” she asks me. She glances over at me and then away, grabbing her water.
“Good.” I move another piece of broccoli onto a cut of chicken. “Just excited to see how we stack up.”
“I saw a butterfly at recess today,” Violet interrupts the silence. “I drew a picture of it, do you want to see?” She starts to push back her chair.
“After dinner,” I say softly, trying to toe the line of not discouraging her while also keeping her focused.
That doesn’t stop her from explaining what she drew, though. Violet’s little voice carries us through the rest of dinner.
It’s nice to hear her so animated. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her talk so much. She must’ve had a really good day. And that makes me feel good. I worry about her sometimes. She’s quiet, like me, most of the time. I know how hard I had it in school. I want better for her.
Violet talks so much though that she doesn’t finish her plate. Most of the chicken in her casserole is left untouched, and that’s usually her favorite part.
“No dessert if you can’t finish your plate,” I tell her, standing to clear some of the dishes. She does this when she gets these bursts of excitement. She forgets to eat and then crashes, and sugar will just make it worse.
Astrid gets up behind me to help. She steps beside me at the sink. “You really shouldn’t say that,” she whispers.
“What?” She smells so good. Floral but something more. I want to breathe her in.
“It’s not good to make kids eat past when they’re full.”
My jaw ticks as I realize what she’s said. I have to bite back my comment. Here I am, trying to be a good dad, watching what I say, thinking that Astrid is so helpful, and all she’s doing is judging me.
“Do you think I don’t know how to parent my own daughter?” The words come out more harshly than I intend.
She winces. “That’s not what I’m saying?—”
“Is it because you think a single dad couldn’t understand how to raise a girl?” My jaw ticks. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone has said that to me.
“That’s not what this is at all.” She seems to instinctively move her hand out towards my arm, and then rethinks it. “There are tons of studies on this. But regardless, my intention isn’t to hurt you.” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “This is my job.”
I snort. “I respect you, Astrid. I think that you are very smart. But your master’s degree is not in early childhood development, so please, don’t tell me that you know more than I do about my own child.”
“Sean, listen.” This time she does touch me; I imagine so that I won’t walk away. “I’m not trying to tell you to do anything. I’m just informing you that childhood eating habits determine their adult relationship with food and as a little girl, it’s super important to create a positive environment at home, since the world might not.” She glances back at Violet.
I’m not used to being challenged, but I don’t think I’m wrong. But even if I was, I won’t back down. Even if a part of me understands that what she is saying makes sense. I don’t want to do to my daughter what I saw Victoria struggle with. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. And I know that I’m taking everything that has happened tonight personally, but I can’t shake the feeling.
I’m Violet’s father. I’m her parent.
