Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“No, him.” Ripley points at Max.
“Not really, to be honest,” Max replies, and Ripley, for reasons I can’t fathom, giggles with delight like he’s the funniest human in the world. Either she’s been watching too much Sesame Street, and Max reminds her of Oscar the Grouch, or my poor daughter is innately afflicted with the same worrisome condition as her mother: she’s hopelessly attracted to emotionally unavailable men.
Ripley wastes no time. With her hands in the air, she abruptly spins, provoking her purple dress to fan out and everyone but Max to applaud riotously.
When my little girl is done twirling, she looks pointedly at Max and frowns at his lack of reaction. Clearly, she wants this handsome, scowling man’s approval above everyone else’s. And I suppose I can’t blame her for that. Max is wildly attractive, and studies show even tiny babies respond to objectively gorgeous faces. Plus, Max and Auggie are the first male humans, other than Dad and some doctors, Ripley has ever met. Since Auggie’s coming across as emotionally available, warm, and sincerely interested in her, it’s no wonder Ripley’s gravitating toward Max, the grumpy, nonchalant, brooding one, instead. She’s my daughter, after all. Poor little thing.
“Why you not clapping for me?” Ripley asks Max.
“Because I don’t believe in sugarcoating or giving false praise,” Max says. “Your twirl was well done; I’ll give you that. But that’s to be expected, isn’t it? You’re four.”
“And a half.”
“So, you should be able to twirl. Show me something I’m not expecting you to do well, and I’ll clap for you.”
Ripley’s nonplussed. She pushes up her thick glasses, trying to process Max’s rebuke.
“I’m so sorry,” Gigi blurts. “Please, forgive my cranky son. He’s got an extremely dry sense of humor and zero experience with little kids.”
Without warning, Ripley hurls her body onto the ground and then twists herself into a haphazard pretzel that causes her dress to fly up and her glasses to hurtle off her face.
“What the . . .?” I blurt, lurching toward my splayed daughter. “What are you doing, Ripley?”
From her crumpled spot on the floor, Ripley looks up at Max with those same little hearts in her eyes and smiles. “What about dat?”
Max chuckles and slowly claps. “Now that was entertaining, kid,” he says. “I don’t know what it was, but it was definitely totally unexpected.”
Thankfully, when I grab Ripley’s glasses off the floor, both lenses are intact. In fact, there’s miraculously not a single scratch on either of them. I hand them back to my daughter and pull her off the ground and dust her off, all the while glaring at Max’s amused face.
“What were you trying to do?” I ask Ripley.
“Dance like a worm.”
“A worm?” I ask, laughing. “That was you trying to do the worm?”
“Naomi’s brudder showed me.”
“Don’t try that again, okay? Not till you’re bigger. You could hurt yourself.”
Gigi clears her throat. “Should we . . . check out some of the other artwork?”
“Absolutely,” Dad says. When Auggie and I agree, off the group goes across the gallery, with Gigi taking Ripley’s hand and Max and I hanging back to whisper caustically at each other.
“Be a dick to me all you like,” I hiss. “But don’t you dare treat my daughter with anything other than kindness and respect.”
“Cool your jets, Sybil. That’s how I speak to all children, on the rare occasions when I’m forced to interact with them. That’s true whether I’ve been mind-fucked, repeatedly, by their mommies with split personalities or not. Also, if anyone deserves to be called a dick, it’s you.”
“Why? Because I had the audacity to walk away from your magic cock again today?”
“Thank you for admitting my cock is magic. Glad we both agree about that. But no, you’re a dick for two other reasons. Actually, three. One, you’re so fucking fickle and indecisive, you give me goddamned whiplash. Two, you’re a sadist, like I said before. Mind-fuckery obviously gets you off. And that sucks ass, Sybil. And three, it’s now clear you were never yourself with me. Not for one fucking minute. And that also sucks ass.”
I roll my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You have a kid, Marnie. And you didn’t think to mention that to me?”
I scoff. “During our one-night stand? No. Why would I tell you about that?”
“Because we talked a shit-ton that night, that’s why. Because we talked about some real shit, that’s why. And now, I come to find out you didn’t even mention you have a kid?”
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, so there was no point. If we’d gone to dinner and had a good time, I’m sure I would have mentioned her then.”
“Bullshit.” Max narrows his eyes. “I can see you clearly now, Marnie. And you know what I see? A bullshit artist. A chameleon. You morph into whatever fantasy you think a man wants, don’t you, Sybil? That’s your favorite game.”