Page 46 of Dangerously
“When you pull your head out of your ass!” I scream back.
8
Declan
Fallon stays lockedin her room all damn day.
This shit isn’t easy. And I sort of regret calling her a bitch. Even though that’s how she acts sometimes. All high and mighty and condescending. I know I fucked up. My whole damn life is fucked up, but I’m trying to fix it. However, her righteous attitude is really getting in the fucking way.
Dealing with a spirited two-year-old every waking second doesn’t help matters either. We are all feeling the pressure. Even Aisling. She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand what kind of danger she’s in. Or what will happen to her if Fallon and I fail. She just knows when I lift her into my arms, she is loved. And that’s all I want her to know. I want to give her everything I never had. A home, stability, clean clothes, and food on the table every night. Not a single parent who works to the bone just to make ends meet. Who has to send her children away just so they can have a better chance at life.
Sorry, Ma, that plan didn’t turn out so well.I could have stayed in Ireland and met the same fate. Less logistics, more time together.
I play with Aisling all damn day, trying to keep her occupied. I read her stories, help her with blocks, and teach her how to hold a crayon. She scribbled a beautiful attempt at a rainbow.
Now I'm working on dinner as Aisling wraps herself up like a mummy with toilet paper. Whatever works.
Fried chicken cutlets, macaroni and cheese, and peas are on the menu.
Aisling and I eat alone. Aisling dropping the peas off her tray like little green bombs. I step on one and make an exploding sound. She loves it.
Once I finish my dinner and Aisling is a nice shade of yellow from the mac and cheese, I give her a bath.
I feel guilty for saying it, but this is my down time. I lean back on the toilet as she splashes around and feel like I can breathe for the first time all day. I keep her in the tub for almost an hour. She loves the water. Kicking, playing, pretending to swim. It’s a grand life right there.
When she’s pruney, I take her out, towel-dry my little ankle-biter, and put her in pajamas. Then I lay her down. Here comes the hard part. Getting her to settle.
She stands, dances, cries in her pack ‘n play with so much energy still left to burn. I can’t understand where it comes from, but I now know why Brynn always looked so tired. Poor woman barely slept, and it was on account of our very sprightly daughter. I hate to say it, but she takes after Daddy in that respect. Most of her spunk comes from me. Her sweet, loving side is all her mother. I miss what Brynn brought into my life. And I regret deeply what Aisling will miss out on. I regret she’ll never know the love of her mother. Especially because that’s what Brynn was best at. Loving. Loving everyone. Unconditionally.
Thinking about her makes my chest feel tight.
“Settle down, little one.” I pat her bottom once she finally lies down. She’s still fidgeting, but slumber is finally starting to win the war.
“Thank Jesus,” I say a soft prayer when she finally passes out, then I stealthily escape the room.
The plate I made for Fallon is still sitting on the stove, telling me she still hasn’t come out. Or she just doesn't want anything I’ve made.
Too bad.
“Fallon.” I knock on her door. “I made dinner. Come out and eat.”
There’s no response. “C’mon, ya stubborn woman. We need to talk.”
I turn the handle, and the door opens. I find her just sitting up on her bed, staring at me.
“I wasn't sure if a knife was going to come flying at my head if I opened it.”
“You’re lucky. I considered it.”
I lean on the doorframe, crossing my arms, and she steals a glance at my flexing biceps.
“Aren’t you hungry? You’ve been in here all day.”
She shrugs. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“What you made.”
