Page 68 of Joker
And says, “Where Joker?”
I glance over automatically, like maybe he materialized somewhere without me noticing.
He didn’t.
“I don’t know, baby,” I say, adjusting where I’m sitting on the couch. “Probably busy.”
Lexi looks mildly offended by this answer. “Why?”
I blink. “Why is he busy?”
She nods.
“Because grown-ups do things during the day.”
That answer does not seem to satisfy her at all.
She goes back to coloring with the expression of a tiny person deeply disappointed in the poor scheduling decisions of adults everywhere.
I tell myself it means nothing.
He’s been around. He helped her with breakfast. He carried her inside that first night. Kids notice people who show up consistently.
That’s all this is.
Then, twenty minutes later, Joker walks through the room on his way to the kitchen and Lexi lights up like somebody switched on a lamp inside her.
Not dramatically.
She doesn’t jump up or squeal or do anything over-the-top. She just brightens.
Her whole little face changes in that quick, open way kids have before the world teaches them to hide too much. “Joker!”
He stops mid-stride and looks down at her from where she’s sprawled on the floor with crayons in one hand and Bunny trapped under her leg. “Yeah, kid?”
She immediately holds up the coloring book to show him a page that looks like a dinosaur lost a fight with a glitter factory.
He steps closer without hesitation, crouches down like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and studies the page with complete seriousness. “That’s a strong use of purple.”
Lexi nods solemnly. “He scary.”
Joker glances at me briefly, then back to her. “Purple helps.”
“That’s what I said,” she replies, like they’re both suffering under the burden of being the only logical people in the room.
I choke on a laugh.
Emma doesn’t even bother hiding hers.
Joker, to his credit, just nods once like this is all extremely valid. “Makes sense.” And then, because apparently we’ve all collectively agreed this man should be allowed to keep surprising me, he taps the page lightly and says, “Needs more teeth though.”
Lexi gasps. Like he just delivered life-changing artistic feedback.
She scrambles for the black crayon so fast she nearly knocks Bunny off her lap, and Joker catches the stuffed rabbit before it hits the floor without even looking like he meant to.
He hands it back to her automatically.
No big deal. No performance. Just…instinct. Something in my chest goes strangely tight.
