“If I’m ever allowed to start dating,” she grumbled, sufficiently bummed out by how long it might be before she could date to sit back down like I’d asked her to.
“Fine, if you’re ever allowed. But are you?”
“No, not at the start. But that’s because I’ll be too young! You aren’t too young. You already had one husband, so I know you’re not too young.”
“You’re right. I’m not, but that’s not my point.”
“Then what is?” she asked.
“My point is that you don’t have to look at every guy you date as somebody that could be your husband someday. Sometimes, you date a guy just to date him, and you don’t think about maybe getting married at all.”
“That sounds like a waste of time to me.”
I laughed in exasperation because at that point, I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. No matter what I was telling her, Emma had me pegged perfectly. I didn’t like to admit it to myself, but I did look at every guy I dated as a potential husband and stepfather.
It wasn’t something I was going to come right out and say to Drew, of course. It was clear almost immediately that saying something like that was the perfect way to scare a guy like him off. But just because I didn’t say it and hadn’t planned on saying it to anyone for a long, long time didn’t mean the thoughts weren’t in my head. They were. Every guy I dated was a potential father for my daughter, and acknowledging it to myself was a sobering thought.
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
“For what, sweetie?” I answered distractedly, unable to get rid of the thought now that Emma had planted it there. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t know. You look stressed now or something. I don’t want to make you feel bad. I want to make you feel better . That’s the whole thing. I want you to be happy, okay?”
“That’s what I want for you, too.”
“I know,” she said. “But that’s not what I care about! You can’t always think about just me, Mama. I want you to be happy for you, not for me. You have to!”
Her sweet little face had started to scrunch up as she yelled, and by the time she was done, I could see that she was about to cry. Baffled about how we had gone from a typical board game day to something like this, I motioned for her, hugging her to me when she cleared the table and was within arm’s reach. She nestled her head into the hollow of my neck, and for a minute, I found that I had to fight back some tears as well. Moments like these were precious to me, all the more so because I knew they would become less and less frequent as she grew older.
“Tell me something about him,” Emma said.
“I told you his name.”
“Don’t be silly, Mama. Tell me something else. You like him, right?”
“I do. At least I think I do.”
“Then tell me something about him.”
“He’s different, I guess. He’s different than the other guys I’ve been dating.”
“Different how?” she asked.
“He’s more serious, I think. I don’t know him well enough to really say yet, I guess, but that’s the answer I would give for now. He’s more serious.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Emma said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because,” she answered simply, hugging me even tighter. “The other guys weren’t ones you wanted to tell me about, and this one is. So maybe it’s a good thing that he’s different.”
“You know what? Maybe you’re right.”
“Was my daddy?” she asked.
“I don’t know how to answer that.” I gulped, trying very hard to sound as calm as humanly possible. “I’m not sure what you mean, baby.”
“I was just wondering if Daddy was serious. You said this new guy is different than the guys you date, but is the serious thing different than Daddy was?”