I looked to the book she was reading and saw this was not a lie.
I looked back to her. “Okay, blossom. But you get done, come and join us if you feel like it.”
“Okay, Amy. If I feel like it.”
She wasn’t coming.
“Right. Hope to see you outside.”
She didn’t reply.
“Enjoy the book,” I bid her.
She nodded, touched her iPhone likely to restart her music playing and looked back down at her book.
Since I wasn’t blind, my eyes again took in her room before I closed the door. But when the door latched, a thought came to me.
My daughter, too, had a pretty little girl room (hers had been peaches and pinks). Starting at eleven, she’d begun begging for an update, and because I was me, but also because we were in the first throes of divorce, by the time she hit twelve, I’d given it to her.
This thought made me move down the hall. I saw Cillian’s door partially open, knocked, didn’t get an answer, so I stuck my head in.
Seeing it for the first time, I learned he’d had a bent toward careening down the highway to the danger zone even prior to seeing Top Gun. I knew this from the motif of airplanes that was in his room.
But it was little kid airplanes for a little boy. They weren’t cool. They were primary colors and cartoony.
His room was also untidy but nowhere near the mess of his sister’s.
I pulled my head out and moved swiftly down the hall to the back room where Mickey was standing alone behind the sectional, an MFD sweatshirt on to go out and play Frisbee, but eyes aimed to the college football game on TV.
“Hey, where’s Cill?” I asked.
He looked to me. “Bathroom. Ash coming?”
I shook my head.
His handsome face turned worried and his eyes drifted to the hall.
I got close. “Before Cill comes back, can I ask something?”
He looked back to me and invited, “Shoot.”
I got closer. “It’ll be asking a lot, honey. And you can say no.”
“Is it about Ash?”
I nodded.
“Then shoot.”
Yes, worried.
But such a good dad.
I nodded again and spoke. “When I went in to talk to her, I noticed she still had her Aisling-as-a-little-girl decoration in her room under all that mess. And I remembered when Olympia hit eleven she started wanting something more grown up. So I just wondered if you might have a teeny-tiny budget,” I lifted my hand to do a thumb and forefinger inch, “that we could use to update her room. Go to Target. Get a new comforter. Maybe a lamp or two. Buy some paint and she and I can paint her walls. Nothing extravagant, just a new look.”
“You think she hates her room?” he asked.
“I think she’s growing up and it might be nice she knows you have a mind to that. But mostly, I just want to see if I can get her excited about something.”
He appeared keen about this idea before that slid out of his features.
“Do it for one kid, babe, gotta do it for both. Can give you the money for Ash but with all that’s goin’ on, not sure I’d wanna push that to doin’ it times two.”
“I agree,” I replied. “But if she wants that and then Cill asks for it, you can tell him he can have it when he hits Ash’s age.”
“Good plan,” he muttered on a nod.
“So, can I suggest that? You can give us a budget.”
He looked to the hall again then to me. “Yeah, Amy. Good idea. Run with it.”
I smiled up at him.
He lifted a hand to wrap it around the back of my neck before he leaned into me and touched my mouth with his.
He moved back an inch and asked, “You gonna get your jacket?”
“Yeah.”
“Go,” he ordered.
Since he’d agreed to allow me to do some decorating, I decided not to take him to task for being high-handed and went to get my jacket.
* * * * *
Late afternoon, after Ash didn’t come out and play Frisbee, I was back at her door.
“Yeah?” she called at my knock.
I stuck my head in. “Hey. You finish your book?”
She clearly had or had given up. She was now on her stomach facing the foot of her bed, still in her PJ’s, and I could see on the small TV on its stand at the end that a movie was paused.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“Any good?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she answered and gave me no more.
I stepped fully into her room, announcing, “Listen, your dad and Cill dragged the fire pit to the deck. They’re out getting firewood and hitting the grocery store. My mission is to start dinner. We’re going to have dinner and do s’mores outside later.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
At least that was something.
I tipped my head to the side and asked her, “Wanna help me make dinner?”
Her eyes drifted to the TV. “Kinda in the middle of this movie.”
I wanted to push.
I didn’t push.
“Okay, kiddo.” I then looked around the room trying to pretend it was nonchalantly before I turned back to her and teased, “Under the mess, your room is cute.”
She shrugged.
I shifted through the clothes and touched a daisy decal on the wall, continuing to tease, “Not sure Imagine Dragons goes with daisies.”
“Yeah, well,” she stated and stopped talking.
“Hey!” I cried, like the idea just struck me. “Bet we can talk your dad into updating this place.” I threw out a hand. “I’m almost done decorating my place and I’d love to help. Throw up some paint. Hit Target and get a new lamp or two. Make it Imagine Dragons worthy.”
She gave me no indication she found this exciting. “Not sure Dad’ll go for that.”
I moved slightly toward her. “He loves you to bits, blossom. And he knows you’re growing up because he leans on you to look after Cillian when he’s not around. I bet he’ll be happy to do it.”
“Seems like a lot of work and money when I don’t really care there’s still daisies.”
I studied her wondering if perhaps her decorations reminded her of her mother or if she worried about the state of her father’s finances and how much of a hit that would be if he did that for her.
I saw no emotion on her face, discomfort, hurt or even hesitancy.
She just didn’t really care.
What girl didn’t care about her room?
“Can I ask your dad anyway?” I requested.
She looked back to the TV then to me, making a mute point that she wanted to get back to her movie, and replied, “Sure. But I’m not really big on that kind of stuff.”