Life and Other Inconveniences(106)

“Think Natalie Portman,” Sophia said. “Erykah Badu. Charlize Theron.”

“Okay. I’ll be totally badass. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo while I’m at it.”

Sophia smiled. “Can’t help you there, but we’ve got clippers.”

I didn’t look like Charlize or Erykah when she was done. I looked like a baby bird, featherless and freaky. I texted a picture to Riley, who responded with OMG, you’re so beautiful, Mama! and I felt better. If I didn’t have hair, I did have the world’s kindest child.

When I went into Tess’s exam room, she was sitting on Miller’s lap, a bandage on her chin, another on the inside of her elbow. She looked groggy.

Miller did a double take. “Uh . . . wow. It looks . . . you’re stunning.”

“Thank you. That’s the only appropriate comment in these circumstances, so really, thank you. How’s our little pal here?”

“Who are you?” she said.

“I’m Emma.”

“Your hair all gone.”

“I know. And you have stitches in your chin.”

“I very brave.”

“I bet you were.” I looked at Miller, who was staring at my head. “I’m totally on fleek, okay? Which means supercool to you old folks. When can we get this girl home?”

“Right now,” said the doctor, coming in with a prescription and a sheaf of papers. “She should sleep well tonight. Tylenol for any soreness tomorrow, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t complain. Kids are tough.” She glanced at me. “Love your hair. Even better than the beaters.”

“You think? I wasn’t sure.”

She grinned. “Have a good night, you two. Take care of your little girl. Bye, Tess! You did great!”

Our little girl. Neither one of us corrected the doctor, who’d obviously assumed I was Tess’s mother. Miller was quiet on the drive home. Tess was sleepy in her car seat, and when we got back to his house, he carried her in and brought her upstairs, then returned with a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and handed them to me.

“Thanks,” I said.

He nodded, went back upstairs, and after a second, I heard the bath running and his deep voice.

Best make myself useful. I Googled “how to clean up corn oil,” found that my instinct to use kitty litter had been spot-on, and went down to the cellar to see if I could find some.

“Emma?” Miller called. “Tess is in bed, but I found Luigi and have to wash him. If you want to go, feel free.”

“I’m good,” I said. “I’ll hang out till you’re done.”

By the time Miller came back down, I’d swept up the kitty litter and mopped the floor once and was starting a second time.

“Emma, please, stop. Don’t.”

“It’s fine. I like to clean.”

“It’s not fine!” he almost yelled. “Why are you being so . . . great about this? My kid is a sociopath, I’m a horrible father, I picked a pirate restaurant for our first date where someone almost died, you started off the night with beautiful hair and now you’re bald, we’re both covered in blood and corn oil, and Kimmy just texted me to say she forgot to mention that Tess put her own feces in the DVD player. My life is literally shit and blood these days.”

He took a shaking breath and looked at the floor.

“Well,” I said, “who really watches DVDs anymore?”

“Emma,” he began, and I hugged him.

My head felt strange against his shoulder. After a second, he hugged me back, his hand going to my head.

“Does this hurt?” he asked, stroking the stubble. God. I had stubble on my head.

“Nope.” The truth was, the back of my scalp was still sore, but I wasn’t going to add to this guy’s burdens.

“It feels kind of nice.”

It did. “You’re not a terrible father.”

“My only child hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t. Stop the pity party or I’m not gonna make out with you on the couch.”

He pulled back and looked at me. “Oh. Well, then. I’m a great dad. A saint, really.”

I smiled, took his hand and led him to the living room. There was only the light from the kitchen shining in, hiding the old scuffs and new oil stains on the wall. It was a beautiful room, a fireplace on one end, built-in shelves and funky windows gracing the space. I sat on the rather battered leather couch, pulling him with me, and waited for him to make a move, suddenly feeling unsure of what to do next.

He looked at me, studying my face. Took my hand.

“I like you, Emma. A lot. There’s something about you that . . . I don’t know. Lights up a room.”

My careful heart swelled. It had been a long, long time since a man had said something so lovely to me. My throat was suddenly tight. I had always been so focused on Riley, on getting through work, school, being a good mom, not screwing up. I never thought of myself as lighting up anything.

I thought I saw his cheeks flush, and he looked at our joined hands. “I’m sorry. Was that a dumb thing to say? I haven’t had to figure out how to talk to a woman since sophomore year of high school.”

I cleared my throat. “It was a great thing to say. Maybe the nicest thing ever.”