She answers immediately without a trace of uncertainty in her voice. “That’s okay with me.”
I quell my sudden need to smile. Ceecee likes me.
Yay, me!
We exit the car and head inside. As soon as we’re in, I start barking orders, “Ceecee, I need you to take two carrots out of the bag and grate them. Max, I need you to find a pan and colander. I’ll start chopping the onion,” I look over to Ceecee and smile, but then it’s all on you, young grasshopper.”
Uncertainty shines bright in her eyes. I step towards her and take her small hands in mine. “I will be here every second. If you need help, all you need to do is ask. And I hope you will ask, or this won’t work.”
Max puts a pan on the stove, a colander on the counter, and comes up behind us. “You guys good? I need to catch up on some paperwork.”
I turn and shoo him away. “Away with you! Now, it’s girl time.” I turn back to Ceecee and wink. When I’m rewarded with a wide smile, for a split second, I think I would do just about anything to see that smile, and I pray I see it again and again.
With my hands to his back, I push him out of the kitchen while he utters, “I’ll be at the dining table if you need me.”
I make a pffft sound. “We don’t need you. We’re golden.”
While Ceecee grates the carrots, I strain a can of lentils, chop an onion, and take the ground beef out of the plastic. As soon as she’s done, I point to her then crook my finger at her. She wheels herself over to my place at the stove and I’m suddenly aware that this kitchen has been designed around Ceecee and her chair. The stove is shorter than it would be for anyone else, and has a gap underneath so Ceecee can wheel herself right in there, as does the sink. The countertops are just the right height for her.
I use the very tip of my finger to tap in front of the stove and she gets my drift. As soon as she’s in position, I turn on the cooktop and bring over the ingredients for our dinner. I hand her a wooden spoon and ask, “Do you cook a lot?”
She shakes her head. “I can cook scrambled eggs. That’s about it.”
My hip leaning on the counter, I cross my arms over my chest. My mind shouts, What are you doing? when I ask, “Would you like to learn?”
Her eyes meet mine. She speaks a hushed, “Aunt Tina used to let me help, but now with Tatiana and Ava, it’s…” She drifts off. And my heart pangs. Something tells me Ceecee is not just angry with her dad. Something tells me Ceecee is angry at the world.
I respond softly, “Yeah. That happens. When kids come along, it’s hard to make time for anything else. Especially when they’re little, you know? ‘Cause babies get sick, and they need to eat almost all the time, and sometimes they just want to cuddle. It takes a long time before parents can make time to do the things they used to.” I hand her the olive oil and jerk my chin to the pan. “Give it a good swirl. It doesn’t matter if you don’t measure it out, just make sure there’s enough to coat the onion.”
She adds the perfect amount then slides in the onion, and I grin. “Are you sure you don’t know what you’re doing? You’re doing awesome so far.” Her blush is small, but I see it. I add, “Like I was saying, being a parent makes people busy. But if you like, I can come over a few times a week and we can cook together.” She doesn’t give me an indication on how she feels about this, so I nudge her shoulder and add, “I don’t know a lot of people in New York, so if you want to give me something to do during the week, I’d like that very much.”
You’re getting too involved.
Oh hush, brain. What could possibly go wrong?
Using the wooden spoon, she stirs the onion and doesn’t look up at me when she says, “I’d like that.”
Tell her. Tell her now.
“Would you still want to learn if it came with a catch?” I ask hesitantly while wringing my fingers together.
Not skipping a beat, she utters, “You want me to start exercising again.”
My eyes round in shock. Ceecee is by no means a silly girl. “Yes, I would. If we could just get you doing three sessions a week, you’d likely stop cramping, honey.”
Her hand stops stirring a moment as she thinks about this. “You’d be exercising with me? You’d be here three times a week?”
I nod. “Yes and yes. I’d be doing it with you. Of course, you’ll be doing three more days with Whit during the week, but I’ll come here after work on the days you’re not at the center. We’ll cook together, then do a light session. And I promise, Ceecee,” I place my hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention, “I promise if we do something you don’t like, we’ll try something else. There’s plenty out there, and we’ll find something you like.”
She stirs and asks, “So, this is my choice? You won’t force me?”
My heart sinks. She’s going to say no. “No, sweetie. No one’s going to force you. And if you decide you don’t want to do this anymore, we can still cook together and hang out.” And I mean that. I’m starting to think I was wrong about refusing this position in the first place.
I tap my finger on the bowl of ground beef and watch Ceecee add it to the pan. While she works out the lumps, I add the carrot and lentils. She concentrates hard at the task at hand and I smile. She might be hardheaded, but she’s determined; that’s for sure.
We cook in silence for a long while before Ceecee speaks again. “Okay. I’ll start exercising again.”
A breath I hadn’t known I was holding leaves me in a whoosh. I’m shocked. “Really?”