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Shannon sits at my sister Cary’s kitchen table, a bite of pancake far too big for her mouth on her kid-sized fork.
“You’re not gonna put that whole bite in your mouth?” I ask.
My dark-haired, blue-eyed, five-year-old daughter opens her mouth as wide as she can, shoving the whole huge blob inside. I just watch, patiently amused, as she chews and chews. When she finally swallows, she lifts her skinny arms above her head in triumph.
“Boom!” she yells. “Whaddaya think of them skills?”
I look from my daughter to my sister, raising an eyebrow in question.
“She’s learned a lot in kindergarten, and even more in summer camp,” Cary says, shrugging one shoulder. “Some of it is fairly questionable.”
“Competitive eating is a thing, Dad,” Shannon says, like I’m the dumbest asshole on the planet. “Did you know that the men’s champion ate like seventy-two hot dogs in the Nathan’s contest this year?”
“Oh, really?” I ask. “And you’re considering a career in competitive eating, then? How many did the women’s champion eat?”
“Who cares?” Shannon asks. “Girls can do anything boys can do.”
“She’s also discovering feminism,” Cary adds. “It’s been an interesting few months lately, filled with quite a few discussions about why boys can do this or that but girls can’t. Recently, she’s decided she wants to be president.”
I smirk and reach over to rub my daughter’s head. She leans into my hand almost unconsciously as she continues to work on her breakfast. Cary’s got the television on in the next room, even though I’ve told her a million times that I only get so much time with Shannon each week and when the TV is on, she’s only half interested in anything else.
The news is on, though, and a story pops up about a missing woman. Shannon’s head cocks to the side for a second before she pops up out of her seat and runs into the living room.
I follow her, ready to admonish her for leaving the table without permission, but then I see the image on the screen. Big Bambi eyes. Long blonde hair. Full pink lips. It’s Tanzie Williams.
“She’s pretty,” Shannon says, awed. “Who would take such a pretty girl? She looks like a princess, Daddy. Do you think she’s a princess?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I do.”
“You should go save her, then,” she says. “You should go find the bad guys and get her back. You’d be her hero. She’d probably kiss you. You might even want to marry her!”
She’s so excited. Her bright blue eyes are wide and she’s bouncing up and down on her tiptoes. Cary switches off the TV and shoos her back into the kitchen to finish her breakfast. We talk about what she’s actually doing at summer camp and she tells me about books her teacher reads and art projects. She says there’s a boy in her class she doesn’t like, but that she has lots of girl friends and she thinks she might get to have a play date with someone named Sidney. She chatters away and I thank the powers-that-be for taking Cary’s advice to pay for private school instead of sending her to the local public school.
It’s not that public school is bad; it’s just that it’s not as secure. In the school she’s in, the class size is smaller, so teachers have fewer kids to keep track of and there’s a much better security system in place. I’m psychotic about my daughter’s safety and security, and this situation with Tanzie Williams is only proving my point about it.
When Shannon asks to be excused, I let her go. I help Cary clean up breakfast.
As we wash dishes, she says, “You know that girl, don’t you?”
I clear my throat. “She’s the daughter of another club president.”
Cary’s movements as she dries the dishes become sharper. She says, “I’m so glad you took a night away from all that drama, David. It’s been too long.”
“Don’t start,” I say. “I work hard.”
“That club is going to leave Shannon an orphan,” Cary says. “Just like club life left us without a father.”
“Enough. That club pays for Shannon’s schooling. It pays for her clothes. It pays for your car.”
“You’re a smart guy,” Cary says. “You could open a legitimate business. You could run for the Senate. You could invent the next big thing. Why the hell are you doing this?”
“I said don’t start,” I growl. “We’re not having this conversation right now.”
“Well, at the least, you should do more of these overnights. Shannon loves it.”
“I love it, too, but things are too volatile right now. I can’t be away like this.”
“She needs you, David.”
“She has me, Cary.”
We stare at each other, impasse making it impossible to find a way out of this argument. It’s not the first time we’ve said these words. Cary lives in a house I bought inside Barking Angels’ territory. I thought I might live in it with my daughter but once thing got more intense with the club, I asked Cary to move in and care for Shannon full time. She argued against it, but eventually I won out. Cary never misses a chance to tell me that she didn’t choose to be a mother, that she’d like to have a life of her own someday.
It’s not that Cary doesn’t love Shannon, she does. But Shannon’s school is inside the territory. Cary works at a hospital inside the territory. The house is inside the territory. Cary says she feels like she lives under a dome and I don’t blame her. I just don’t know how else to protect them. I need them both close. I need them safe.
With Tanzie Williams’ face in my mind, I kiss my daughter’s cheek and hold her for a little longer than usual. I hug my sister, too, and tell her to stay close to home.
“Why do I have a bad feeling?” Cary asks me as I step out the front door.
“It’ll be fine,” I say. “Be good.”
Inside, though, I know just what she means.
*
