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I know you’re taking care of my daughter well. We’ve been friends for over twenty-two years. I trust you.
I suddenly hated that I was noticing this.
Thankfully, a small breeze blew Sophie’s pencil off the blanket. I let her go to pick it up before turning to Evie.
When she grabbed the unknown item, I spoke. “She reads a book, draws, or plays with her toy.”
Her smile quickly disappeared when she turned to me. “This is a new game–”
“No.”
“No?” She shot me a quizzical look.
I wasn't ready to reply, so I settled for a deadpan stare. I'd be lying if I said her angry gaze didn't pierce my skin. I'd also be lying if I said I knew why I was doing this. But maybe she shouldn't force Sophie to do what she didn't want to.
“Mr. Thorne, I'm her therapist.”
“No. You're her nanny. And you have to listen to me.” I was probably irrational, but she had to understand our routine.
The crease between her brows deepened. When I glanced at her eyes, I could see her losing it. I mused at the tint of pink on her cheeks.
“This is a new method. It's… it's something out of the box. Something…. Something different.”
I shot her a dry stare. “You could be forcing her.”
“No...” she shook her head. A few tendrils escaped her messy bun. I forced my eyes away.
“…I would never. Plus, how do you know she won't like it if we don't try? Just because it isn't part of her routine doesn't mean she wouldn't like it.”
“You have to understand, Mr. Thorne,” she breathed deeply. I didn't let my eyes fall on her chest. “This routine… people coined them. Sophie’s growing, and her routine needs too.”
I failed to admit that she had hit the nail on the head.
With a small wave, I dismissed her. “Do what you have to.”
She released a sigh. Then turned to Sophie, who was now seated, staring at a bird. The white bird was at a distance, eating stuff from the ground.
Again, she called out to Sophie, who slowly turned to her. “This is a bubble toy. Would you like to try?”
I could see how the plastic immediately caught Sophie’s attention. It was shaped like a friendly ladybug. Its bright pink shell, dotted with black spots, contrasted with a translucent green dome inside it.
The dome seemed to be for a solution, and curved towards a small spout at the front.
The spout was wide enough for Evie’s fingers to grasp a little bubble wand. When she pulled it out, she gently blew air with her lips, and a single bubble grew from the O-shaped space on the wand.
Sophie stared at the bubble, but there was no response. Evie urged her through a smile. “Here, try it.”
Sophie still didn't accept the weird-looking container. I scoffed lightly at Evie.
When I grabbed the storybook, Sophie tentatively stretched out her hands. There was a growing curiosity in her eyes.
“Good girl. So, I'll need you to blow…”
I drowned out her words as I focused on Sophie, who followed her instructions. Anticipation grew in me as she successfully blew bubbles. But it was soon erased when her only reaction was the slight raise of her brow.
Releasing a sigh, I leaned my back against the tree. Unlike every other normal kid, my daughter didn't smile.
eight
