Susan Mallery - Someone Like You

The stairs creaked as she walked downstairs. She could still hear her dad in the kitchen. She smelled bacon and maybe pancakes and her mouth began to water. Her grip on Elvis tightened until she was afraid she would pop him like a balloon. Finally she hovered at the entrance to the kitchen.

The room was big, with lots of windows. Her dad stood by the stove. He looked so tall and strong and just like she remembered him. For a second she almost ran over to be picked up and hugged. She wanted to feel his arms around her, holding her close. She wanted him to tell her that she was his best girl always.

Her throat got all tight and her stomach felt squishy instead of empty. And when he looked up and smiled at her, it was as if her feet had somehow glued themselves to the floor.

“Hey, kiddo, how’d you sleep?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

She waited for the hug, or a wink or something to tell her that he still thought she was his best girl. She leaned forward to hear him tell her that he loved her and he was glad they were together. That he’d missed her and looked for her every day but he hadn’t been able to find her.

But he didn’t. Instead he pulled out a chair at the table in the center of the room.

“Have a seat. I made pancakes. You always liked them, right? Oh, and bacon.”

Emily felt very cold on the inside, as if that dark, scary place inside of her had just frozen over. She didn’t want pancakes, she wanted her dad.

He waited until she was seated, then pushed in the chair. Emily put Elvis on the table next to her place setting and waited while he slid three pancakes onto her plate. Bacon was next. She looked from the food to the glass of orange juice just to her right.

Funny how she didn’t feel hungry at all. She didn’t feel anything.

“Here’s some strawberries,” he said, putting a bowl of the cut-up fruit on her left.

Emily squared her shoulders and carefully pushed the plate away. “No, thank you,” she said in a voice that was so small she wondered if she were starting to disappear.

“What? Aren’t you hungry?”

She wanted to grab Elvis and hold him close, but then her dad might guess she was scared and sad. Instead, she squeezed her hands together so tight that her nails dug into her skin.

“The color’s wrong,” she said, trying to speak a little louder. “I’m wearing purple.”

He looked at her T-shirt and shorts. “So?”

“If I’m wearing purple I can only eat purple.”

His mouth got straight and his eyes narrowed. He didn’t look happy anymore and she was afraid. But she didn’t give in. She couldn’t.

“Since when?” he asked. “How long have you been color-coordinating your food with your wardrobe?”

“A while now.”

“I see.”

It was barely after eight in the morning and Mac already felt tired. Damn it all to hell—he didn’t want to let Emily win this battle. It would set a precedent, forcing him into a corner.

“Wait there,” he told his daughter as he walked out of the kitchen and headed for the small den at the front of the house.

He’d set up an office in the narrow space, sliding a desk between built-in bookcases. Now he grabbed the phone and punched in Carly’s number. Couldn’t she have warned him what was going on with Emily? They’d had the whole evening. Was it too damn hard to say “Gee, Mac, the kid only eats the color she’s wearing.”?

Still caught up in his temper, he barely noticed when a man answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“What?” Mac started to say he’d dialed the wrong number when he realized that maybe he hadn’t. “Is Carly there?”

“Sure. I’ll get her.”

“It’s Mac,” he added, not sure why.

“Just a second.”

There was the sound of the phone being set down, then a low rumble of voices too quiet for him to hear the words. Obviously Carly was seeing someone and the man in question had spent the night. Mac turned the idea over in his brain, then shook his head. He didn’t care if she slept with the entire NFL as long as she didn’t do it in front of his daughter.

“Mac? What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she won’t eat a color she’s not wearing?”

From a couple hundred miles away, he heard his ex-wife sigh. “Is she doing that? I’m so sorry. I’d hoped she’d let it go. We talked about it.”

“You and she talked about it. You didn’t say squat to me.”

“I should have.”

“How long has she been doing this?”

“About six weeks. I talked to the pediatrician. She thinks it’s a way for Emily to have some control in her life, and maybe a way to get us to do what she wants. She didn’t get a say in the divorce or having you gone. She’s punishing us.”

“Couldn’t she just throw a tantrum and be done with it?”

“Tell me about it.”

He sat on the corner of the desk. “So how does this work? She ate last night.”

“Sure. She wore red. I brought spaghetti, a salad made of red-leaf lettuce and we had strawberry shortcake for dessert. What’s she wearing this morning?”

“Purple. I made pancakes and bacon. So far she’s ignoring it.”

“Blueberries are good on purple days. Although…when I saw the doctor last week, she pointed out that if we were willing to hold out against her and not give her what she wanted, eventually hunger would force her to eat.”

Starve his daughter? He couldn’t imagine it. “Did it work?”

“I was too chicken to try.”

“Great. So I get to be the bad guy?”

“It’s only a suggestion. You have to do what you think is right.”

His gut told him that the doctor was on to something—Emily would eventually get hungry and eat what was served. But was that how he wanted to start their summer together? There was also the matter of the social worker. He could only imagine that interview as Emily complained that her bully of a father hadn’t fed her in two days.

“How the hell am I supposed to know what’s right?” he asked, more to himself than Carly.

“You were always a good father, Mac.”

“Absolutely. Right up until I disappeared from her life. Some kind of hero, huh?”

Carly was silent for a couple of seconds, then she said, “Emily doesn’t know I’m seeing anyone. Brian and I have been dating about two months, but I haven’t introduced them. I want to be sure it’s going to last.”

He didn’t care about his ex-wife seeing a guy, but he hated the thought of his daughter having another father in her life.

“I won’t tell her,” he said.

“Thanks. I wish I could be more helpful on the food thing.”

“I’ll deal with it. I suppose in some courts, the judge would say I earned it.”

“You need to give both of you some time,” Carly told him. “That’s what this summer is about.”

“I know. I’ll send you an e-mail in a couple of days and let you know how things are going.”

“I appreciate that. Take care, Mac.”

“You, too.”

He hung up the phone and returned to the kitchen.

Emily sat where he’d left her. The only change was the stuffed rhino in her arms.

“Elvis have any advice for me?” he asked.

Wariness filled her wide blue eyes as she shook her head.

“Just like a rhino. I can’t get him to shut up when I’m driving. He’s always telling me what lane to be in and where to turn. But now, when I need some instructions, he doesn’t say a word.”

Emily bit down on her lower lip. Mac hoped it was to keep from smiling.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Purple, huh?”

She nodded.

“Okay, kiddo. Let’s hit the grocery store and get you some breakfast.”

“Can I have Pop-Tarts?” she asked as she slid off the chair. “They’re purple.”