That’s the title of my essay in the current (April 2013) issue of Family Circle.
Leaning over the counter, my daughter ordered the same meal she always had at our favorite taqueria: a quesadilla, no salsa, no sour cream. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to eat. But that wasn’t all I was uncertain about.
I’d thought that bringing my eight-year-old to a familiar place to meet my new boyfriend was a good idea. But now I felt awkward. “She’s going to be shy,” I’d warned Chris the night before.
My daughter followed me to a table and slid into the chair next to me, our elbows touching. She grabbed a tortilla chip and crunched into it, looking straight at Chris. “Have you seen Nacho Libre,” she asked.
“Seen it? I own it,” he said with a big grin, referring to the Jack Black movie.
“You do?” she jumped out of her seat. “Can I come over and watch it?” I guess I’d been wrong about shy.
After dinner, we all walked back to my car, making plans for our Jack Black movie night. “Thank you,” I whispered, wanting to kiss Chris but instead taking a step back as my daughter wrapped her thin arms around him.
“See you soon,” she said.
I was silent as we drove to our apartment, just the two of us, the way it had always been. When my daughter was a baby, her father had left the country to start a new life, and I’d been a solo mom since. I wasn’t going to let another man hurt me —or her….
You can read the full story here, at Family Circle.
Post Footer automatically generated by Add Post Footer Plugin for wordpress.
{ 0 comments }
