Just in the Neighborhood

"Stephanie says hello, that she hopes you have a great night, and that she's just dying to have 'girl talk' with you when we all get together."

"Oooooh boy," Carla says, and it makes me laugh; I love it when her prim and proper facade breaks. "Oh, that is going to be awkward. She's, what? Ten years younger than me?"

I shrug, and pointedly do not say it's at least fifteen. "Hey, it's not like I'm going to be able to bond with her any better."

"The difference is she'll let you go watch TV or play your games," she says dryly. "Sexism rears its ugly head."

"So, I should entertain Stephanie by myself, and you should go watch TV?"

Carla's gaze darkens. Yeah, that was too far. I should not have said that.

Everything's mostly fine for the rest of dinner. I clean up by myself. Surprisingly, Carla's cold shoulder is brief and theatrical when I plop down next to her on the couch. In only a few moments, she's cuddling with me. I don't question it. I wrap my arm around her and enjoy the closeness. We watch something on TV, and honestly, it doesn't matter what it is.

I don't even hear Stephanie's car roll up; she's got an electric vehicle whose price tag I made the grave mistake of looking up online. I just hear the front door open and shut. Carla leans away and nudges me to go play warden. I give her a kiss on the top of her head before I do.

"Hey, Daddy," Erika says. "How are you guys? Still sad and lonely?"

"Getting better, now that you're here, Kiki-bear. How was Sophie's?"

"Eh, it was fine," she replies. "We just talked about boys nonstop for like five hours. Oh, right, and, how I'm going to dye my hair crazy colors and get a tattoo. Maybe some piercings. We both agreed I shouldn't start selling drugs until college, though. This is Sophie's territory, after all."

"Mmmm, right, right. And I imagine Ms. Brown was an active participant in these conversations, too?"

"Obviously," she continues to sass. "She's Sophie's business partner, what with all her connections to the adult world. She's also young and hot, and, actually, I think maybe she's even kinda rich now? She just needs wingwomen and some free time. Sophie and I aren't quite old enough, though. We can't go to bars. I didn't want to volunteer Mom without talking to you guys first, but I think it's a great idea. Mom will be able to steer her away from the bad boys and deadbeats, and towards somebody more like you."

"Wow. That was smooth, Kiki-bear. You guys workshop that together?"

Erika breaks character and jumps towards me. I'm ready; she does it a lot. I give her a huge squeeze, and enjoy one of those flashes of memory from her childhood; she's bigger and heavier now, but she's my little girl.

I also notice something, though: her clothes are just a little bit damp, and so is her hair. "Erika, did you shower over there?"

"Oh yeah," she says, like someone proudly confessing to a huge fart. "I had gym today, and did some more stuff during my study period. I reeked. Their shower is awesome, by the way. Also, I didn't know I'd be home early."

I want to call her out on that last bit, but she took the sass down to zero for it. I let her go with a quick kiss on the head. "Well, go get sorted, then bring your homework and stuff out to the kitchen table. Mom and I both want to check in and see how you're doing with everything."

Once again, Erika proves that we have absolutely nothing to worry about. Her homework's done, and it looks good. She talks about her various times around the track, and I remember enough to know that they sound decent. For an hour before she heads off to her room, we're a family, and it's great. Carla seems more attentive and involved than she has for a while; I guess a little absence made her more focused on the kid that's still living with us. For my part, I feel waves of relief with every bit of normalcy Erika tosses our way.

In bed that night, Carla and I don't make love, but we do snuggle.

"You still find me attractive, right?" she asks.

"I do," I say, giving her another kiss on her head -- a safe spot, and not where I'd prefer to be kissing her. Call me half surprised. I teased her about Stephanie earlier -- nothing crazy, but, well, I should have been more sensitive. My ready response seems to please her, or at least placate her. I snuggle in closer, and she lets me.

"Erika seems happy."

"Well, yeah," I agree, "but she's always been a happy kid."

"You're right, honey," she replies. "Love you. Goodnight."

I spend a few minutes thinking about that last exchange. There's nothing weird about it, right?

Then why does it feel that way?

*******

If it's an infatuation, it's a serious one. Erika's still the same kid, except for that one weird, crazy thing: she's fucking obsessed with Sophie Brown.

It's been so hard to call her out on it, too, because, like I said, she's still the same kid. She made varsity. Her homework's always done. She never cops an attitude. She hasn't dyed her hair, and, as far as I can tell, she hasn't gotten a tattoo or a piercing. Then again, neither Carla nor I want to be the first one to suggest that maybe we should check more thoroughly. Ew. Parenthood is kind of fucked up sometimes.

Honestly, she seems happier -- and yes, I do think back to that not-weird-yet-weird snippet of nighttime conversation that my wife and I had two weeks ago. It's weird to me that Carla mentioned it all the way back then -- like she saw something I didn't.

When I finally put my foot down last week about Erika spending so much time over at Sophie's, she sat down at the kitchen table like an adult and negotiated with us. It was... well, it was still just so like her, but it was also weird, because it was about Sophie Brown. The deal was fashioned like so: two weekdays at Sophie's, two weekdays Sophie can come over here, one weekday where it's family time. Weekends are a split, and usually Sunday is the family day. That means Erika gets to see Sophie five times a week somewhere other than school, and usually for hours and hours at a time. That's all entirely dependent on her life not getting disrupted otherwise, of course. We're not idiots. Health comes first, grades come second, and sports and friends are arguably on equal footing after that. Erika did some psy ops about friends being part of a healthy life, and I told her that that bought her maybe two days a week on the schedule, out of the five.

I have to tell you, I am getting really, really curious about what in the holy hell two girls -- and Stephanie, sometimes, I suppose -- can possibly do and talk about for that long. Carla and I have a life together, so that's not a fair comparison. Erika's not paying bills, doing taxes, or doing yard work.

Actually, you know what? I think she needs more chores. I'm going to talk to Carla about that. See, that's smart parenting.

Today's the first day Sophie's coming over to our house. In a way, it's going to be my first formal introduction to the girl. Our families were never close before. We were the kind of neighbors that would see each other around town, be nice for ten seconds, then move on. Occasionally, Stephanie, Carla and I would find ourselves sitting close together during an event or PTA meeting, and we'd find things to talk about for slightly longer -- minutes, even! That was that, though.

So, is it weird I left work a little early? Yeah, it's weird. Sue me.

"Mo-ooom!" Erika calls out from near the front door. "We're ho-ooome!"

Carla and I share one last look and walk out. We're a united front.

"Hey, Kiki-bear!" I say. Her eyes widen; she's shocked to see me, as well she should be. I wrap her up in a huge hug before she can react.

"Mmmm!" she exclaims into my chest, already adapting, and refusing to be embarrassed -- which means I'm a failure. She gives as good as she gets. I glance over to Sophie, and she's giving the two of us a bit of the side eye. I don't think that's enough of a reaction to change my grade.

"Sophie!" Carla says. "Welcome! Come on in and make yourself at home. Oh, if you don't mind, we are no 'no shoes' house, though. But after that, please, come in; we can get you a snack, a drink, anything you want."

I release Erika. Sophie is all smiles as she slips off her big, black boots. Honestly, it's not as bad as I thought it was going to be. She's got an eyebrow ring and a nose ring, but strangely, her ears aren't pierced at all. The hair isn't a surprise: short, spiky, and hot purple. Neither are the clothes. She almost looks like one of those James Dean characters: leather jacket, white T-shirt, and dark blue jeans. At a glance, she's probably two inches shorter than Erika, or maybe three. Erika's tall and lanky. She's a runner, first and foremost. She gets that from my side of the family. Sophie, meanwhile, gets a strange hint of Asian features from her long-gone mom, but they're subtle highlights on a face that, mostly for the worse, comes from Francis Walker's bloodline. It's the kind of face that isn't ugly right now, but that you know would get those awful craters and that forever-red nose if its owner decided to follow their ancestors into the bottle.

"Hey, Mrs. Pendleton, Mr. Pendleton," she says. She gives us a friendly wave. I stretch out my hand for a shake. She stares down at it for a moment, like it's some kind of a surprise. It's just a brief hitch, but I do notice it. She reaches out and grabs my hand with hers, remembering to look back up and make square eye contact.

"Nice grip," I say.

"Thanks," she replies. "You, too. I wasn't expecting to get to meet you until later."

"Well, things were slow," I lie, "and I knew we were having company." That makes it only half a lie. That's not bad.

"Works out great," she says evenly. "Glad I get to spend more time with you."

We break off, and Carla's next up. "So... um... is it weird to offer a hug so soon?"

"Not at all!" Sophie says. "Bring it in, Mrs. Pendleton!"

Carla has no idea whether to be relieved or even more uncomfortable, but once the hug starts, I can tell she's happy. Whatever reservations we might have about Sophie, I think Carla's "Mom mode" has well and truly triggered. Sophie's been through more than any kid her age should've had to endure. It's no slight against Stephanie that Carla wants to mother the shit out of Sophie. It's just instinct. I get it.

"Okay," Erika jokes, "No mom-stealing! Let's go drop our stuff off, Soph, but then I'm definitely ready for a drink at least."

Soph gives Carla one last squeeze. "Pssh, tell that to my stepmom," she says equally playfully. "When she comes over this weekend she's going to have adoption papers ready for you."

"Well, we're not quite done with her yet," I say.

Carla releases Sophie and gives her the classic shoulder rub, plus a look that would grow the Grinch's heart at least two sizes. "Okay, see you two in a jiff."

The two girls head off towards Erika's bedroom and the bathroom. Once they're both done -- and, Lord forgive me, but I do perk my ears up to make sure Sophie washes her hands, which she does, so then I feel like a jerk -- everybody assembles around the kitchen table.

Carla's over the moon with Sophie. Honestly, it's like she's our daughter already. I'm sitting opposite her, trying not to be an awkward fourth wheel -- which shouldn't be a thing at all, but it's like the three women at the table are a tricycle.

"So, Sophie, how's your senior year treating you?" Carla asks.

"Well I'm not failing out, so that's progress," she jokes.

Erika playfully bats her forearm. "Soph, you killed it last year. You're gonna kill it again this year."

Sophie shrugs. "Well, it helps that I'm not doing a sport. Seriously, Erika, the fact that you keep your grades up and do track... and varsity, like, wow!"

Erika blushes. "Aw. Thanks, b -- Soph." She quickly looks at me.

I give her the look. Yeah, I heard it. What's up?

"Okay, no," Sophie says. "I told you, Riki, that's not happening -- and, crap, you've got me talking about it in front of your parents. Oh, you are a clever little... something."

Erika swings her head back towards Sophie. Something passes between them. I don't know what, exactly, but this is getting weird. My Dad senses are tingling.

"Okay," Erika says simply, betraying nothing.

Sophie holds her gaze for minute, then lets go of a massive sigh. "Fine. Your lovely daughter, here, Mr. Pendleton, seems to think that since she's 'Kiki-bear,' I should be a bear, too -- 'Boo-Boo' to be precise. Not 'Sophie-bear,' not 'Phee-Phee-bear,' and, thankfully, not 'Yogi Bear,' but still... really. You're killing me, Riki."

Erika is all giggles. She also has a brain fart and tries to take a sip of her watered-down juice while giggling, which predictably goes very poorly. That gets Sophie chuckling, and even Carla joins in.

I still smell bullshit, and I think it's because Sophie's a really, really good bullshitter.

"So, Mrs. Pendleton," Sophie begins.

"You know," Carla says, "Suddenly that makes me feel so old, Sophie. I think... would you just call me 'Carla?'"

Sophie looks at me, then back at my wife. "I... sure, of course. Obviously. So, Carla... what do you like to do for fun? What do you do when Erika's at school and Mr. Pendleton's at work?"

Carla's face falls a little. She looks down at her hands. "Well, I... I take care of the house, of course. I have some old friends from my hometown and from college that I write to. There's television. There's errands -- always errands. And I make dinner."

"Oh, dinner, right!" Sophie says. She senses the mood, and she's coming to the rescue. She's good. "Do you want some help? Erika and I could help. I know Mr. P takes care of the dishes."

That makes Carla smile again, which, in turn, makes me happy. I'm surprised Sophie would make the offer. It's almost like she's trying too hard to impress us. I just keep smelling that bullshit.

Honestly, I think I literally smell something -- and no, not fecal matter of any kind. I cannot put my finger on it. I have to assume it's some kind of a perfume or cologne, but I know my Erika doesn't wear any. That leaves Sophie, and she doesn't seem the type.

"Oh, you sweetheart!" my wife says. "Well, the way I work is, most of the prep that can be done beforehand is already done by now, so that I can spend some time with Erika when she comes home..."

Sophie reads the room again, instantly. "Aw, I'm sorry Mrs. -- Carla. I know. I just... Erika's so great, you know? And, well, I'm not the best at making friends. These past few weeks have been really great."

Erika bats Sophie's arm again -- still gently, but conveying something entirely different. "Don't say that!" she says. "You can have all the friends you want. You're great. You just don't know it."

Sophie cocks her head. "See what I mean?"

"Yeah," I agree. Sophie turns, surprised to hear me speak up. "Kiki-bear's our little angel. We've been getting a little jealous, but that's not your fault, Sophie. We're happy she's got a new friend, too."

Erika and Carla both melt. I scored major points. Sophie, meanwhile, kicks it up a notch. I see her do it -- I see her will her face to pretend to quiver. Her eyes get wet. It's bullshit. I know it's bullshit, but there's no evidence. Am I the asshole? I might be the asshole. If so, I have to keep pretending I'm not.

"Thanks," Sophie says. "Both of you -- all of you. Steph -- well, my stepmom, you know -- she's been amazing, but... this place. I don't know. I can just feel it. You can tell that it's been a home for a long time -- like, a real home."

Just like that, Carla and Erika are melting for her instead of me. Ah, well. Such is the life of Dad. You get little victories, and they have to last you a while.

Carla reaches out and pats Sophie's hand. "You kids have been really great, humoring us," she says, "so go on. Go be young and silly with each other."

Sophie puts her other hand on top of Carla's. Carla reacts with surprise, but in a good way. "Aw, nah," Sophie says. "I'm meeting you guys for the first time -- well, you know, mostly. Kinda. Let's hang out. You got any games? Deck of cards? Dinner's not for a while, right?"

"I... well, yes," Carla says. "We definitely have a deck of cards, at least -- right, Ben? You could go find those for us."

I stand up. "Absolutely," I say. "You ladies figure out your games of choice."

"Don't worry," Sophie jokes, "we won't play for money."

"Or strip poker!" Erika blurts out.

"Erika!" Carla exclaims.

Sophie barely suppresses a laugh. I shake my head and head off to find the cards.

As it turns out, Sophie's quite good at gin rummy. Dinner comes out great, as usual. Carla hurries Sophie away to the living room, and Erika helps me with dish duty. The kitchen's not really big enough to turn it into a proper two-person job, but she dries and sorts, and even asks me about work. That's laying it on a little thick, in my opinion, but at least she doesn't pretend that anything I have to say is interesting. Then I'd have to give her some guff for being too obvious.

In the TV room, I take a chair. Erika and Sophie both give me looks -- offers to swap places, even though Erika hasn't sat down yet -- but I wave them off. Erika plops down nearer to me, and the two kids make a mom sandwich. Carla seems happy. I can't ask for much more.

"Three peas in a pod," I say softly. "Love to see it."

I get big smiles from all of them, and you know what? I do love to see that. Sophie's definitely getting something she needs from Carla, and that doesn't smell like bullshit to me.

*******

"Ben?" Carla asks.

I wasn't nearly ready to fall asleep. It was an unusual evening for us, and I'm still replaying bits of it in my head. I roll over and try to spoon her. She cooperates fully, which feels incredible. Then she tenses up. I give her a safe kiss, but that doesn't seem to help.

"I think Sophie really likes being here with us," she says. "I feel so guilty saying that, because, you know, Stephanie..."

I kiss her again. "I understand. It's okay. Sophie feels guilty about that, too, I think, but you know what? Be happy. We made a good home for our kids. She felt the love. It's okay for us to be proud of that."

She relaxes into me. She's soft, and warm. "She's a charmer," she says. There's virtually no stank on the word.

"I was thinking something similar this evening," I reply. I do let a hint of stank through.

She huffs, but she's not actually mad. "You can be the bad cop, then. Just don't be too bad."

That's not fair at all. I know we're not actually going to adopt Sophie, but Carla's already treating her like a wounded puppy that Erika brought home with her; she's also treating Erika like a saint for having done so. Can I tell my wife not to be too good? No, I cannot.

Speaking of stank, though...

"Hey, honey?" I ask.

"Mmm?"

"I know this is crazy, and I don't think I'm having a stroke, but... did you smell something tonight? Something weird?"

"Mmmm," Carla says, and that, itself, is weird. It sounds like she's reliving a good memory and disagreeing with me at the same time. "That was just some perfume Sophie was wearing, dear. Personally, I thought it smelled very nice. I know you don't care for that sort of thing."

"Huh," I reply. "Fair enough. You know about these things. Sorry; it just popped in there."

"No need to be sorry," she says with an easy sigh.

I think I feel her warm up even more next to me. She shifts a bit, and the friction between our pajamas is tantalizing. Her hands find mine. She strokes them a little. I will myself not to hope. When I feel her tense again, I know that was a good decision. Then, I will myself not to sigh.

"Ben," she asks in a guilty, plaintive voice, "is it okay if we... don't do everything, but... maybe, if you hold me? And kiss me, maybe? I'm sorry, I know, it's just-"