Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“How about,” Mazzy suggests with a wink in Bowie Jane’s direction, “we do that thing for your dad that we said we’d do?”
Very cryptic indeed, but it excites my kid. “Yes! Let’s do it.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Mazzy says and heads up the staircase.
“What are you two up to?” I ask Bowie Jane.
She looks smug but refuses to divulge anything. “You’ll see.”
With Mazzy upstairs, I use the opportunity to check in with my kid. Despite the apparent ease with which she’s supported this thing between me and Mazzy, I never want to assume anything. “Are you really okay with me and Mazzy?”
She looks puzzled. “You mean… like, you’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Yeah. I know it wasn’t easy for you when your mom started dating Chet. But mostly, because it changes the dynamic a little bit between the three of us.”
Bowie Jane’s frown deepens. “What’s a dynamic?”
My kid’s vocabulary is pretty extensive. It’s for this reason I don’t dumb down words for her but make her level up to learn new things.
“In this instance, it means sort of the structure or system we have in place. Specifically, Mazzy came into our lives as a nanny. While she will still be that, she’s now more to me and I think to you as well. Things are changing or evolving.”
Bowie Jane processes that. “I love Mazzy, so it’s no wonder you do too.” I don’t affirm or deny that. Bowie Jane is using the words that make sense to her. “And I can tell she really cares about you. She took really good care of you today and was worried yesterday when you were really sick. I kept hearing her wake up to check on you.”
“You know that no matter what happens between me and Mazzy, you are and will always be my number one priority. The one I will always love the most. I will always choose you above any other, and that includes Mazzy.”
My statement is pointed because while I don’t call her mother out specifically, my commitment to our daughter is in stark contrast to Sandra’s and Bowie Jane knows exactly what I’m saying. I can tell by her expression.
She nods quietly.
“It’s me and you, kid. First and foremost. But I think Mazzy makes our life together better.”
“I do too,” she says.
Mazzy’s footsteps coming down the stairs quiets us and when she appears from behind the couch, I see her carrying two guitars, the one she gave to Bowie Jane to practice on, and one of her three others.
“What’s this?” I ask as Bowie Jane rolls off the couch to take the guitar.
“We’ve been working on a song for you,” Mazzy says. “It’s the first complete song that Bowie Jane has learned to play and trust me when I say she’s a natural. She’s been practicing really hard, and we thought it would be nice to preview it to you while you’re sick.”
As cruddy as I feel, a surge of joyful energy sweeps through me. I sit up even straighter on the couch. “I can’t wait. Give it to me.”
Mazzy and Bowie Jane both stand on the other side of the ottoman and loop their guitar straps over their shoulders. Mazzy leans forward, makes sure that Bowie Jane’s hands are properly placed, and then asks, “You ready?”
My kid swallows hard, clearly nervous but nods. “Ready.”
“You got this. Just like you practiced, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Go ahead,” Mazzy encourages, and I’m surprised when it’s only Bowie Jane who starts strumming. It’s an opening melody and while she has to look at her fingers on the strings, her transitions between chords are smooth.
I’m charmed when Bowie Jane starts singing “You Are My Sunshine.” I’m so caught up in how great she’s doing on the guitar and how sweet her voice is, I’m stunned when Mazzy starts playing an echo to Bowie Jane.
Bowie Jane sings a line of the song and as she moves on to the next one, Mazzy repeats it in a soft, higher harmony.
It’s beautiful but it hits me hard that this makes the song incredibly difficult. Bowie Jane has to play with the distraction of someone else singing different words and playing different chords. It’s a complexity I’m stunned to see my daughter mastering, and it honest to God brings fucking tears to my eyes. I don’t move to wipe them away.
My gaze moves to Mazzy and I see she’s watching me intently. She’s reading the emotion on my face and her own expression softens, a quiet gratitude that I’m open in my vulnerability.
That’s one of many reasons I know Mazzy is the one I’ve been waiting for.
CHAPTER 27
Mazzy
Bowie Jane precedes me into the house and as soon as her feet hit the kitchen tile, she lets her school backpack slide to the floor. She makes it no more than two steps before I halt her. “No, ma’am,” I chastise. “That doesn’t go there.”