Chapter Text
Boys
Patsy was coloring on the living room floor, biting her lip and furrowing her brows in concentration. Martha was quietly reading a book next to him. Even Jacky seemed calm and was playing a game of solitaire, albeit with his back turned to George.
George, for his part, was enjoying himself immensely. He was thirty, happy with his career and married to the love of his life with two beautiful children, even if one was indifferent to him. It was like a storybook and he loved it. Everyone was happy, they were safe and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
When Patsy finished her picture, she put stood up and handed it to George and Martha. “Mommy, Daddy, this is for you.” George was about to compliment its fridge-worthiness when she casually added. “Yesterday at school, Mark wanted to color with me.”
George felt like he’d fallen from a tree, like he’d been hit by a train, like a hail of bullets was descending on him from above. Martha opened her mouth before seeing his horrified expression and shut it again to hold in a giggle. She smirked, but George didn’t see the amusing aspect. Patsy was starting to like boys . No, that couldn’t be right. She wasn’t old enough, was she? Eight was certainly too young to like boys.
This seemed rather early for this talk, but George was determined to be a good father, so he started the speech. He had rehearsed it many times, though he assumed he would get more practice time. “Patsy, I want you to know that when young women reach a certain age … ” He trailed off when he noticed Martha had gone bug-eyed trying to contain her laughter.
Patsy giggled. “Daddy, boys got cooties, ‘cept you and Jacky. I told Mark I didn’t wanna color with him.”
George exhaled.
“I think what your father is trying to say that if you ever do like boys, you can tell us. That goes for you too, Jacky, if you ever meet a girl,” Martha said. The boy groaned and dropped his head onto the desk. “ Mom. ”
Patsy was still giggling. “You’re so silly, Daddy.”
Growing Up
“Daddy, can I talk to you?” Marty asked from the doorway to his office. “It’s real important.”
Thomas glanced up from his book and was surprised to see a look of fear on his daughter’s face. “Come in.”
She scurried in and curled up at his feet. “Daddy, I think I hurt myself.”
“What?” She was ten years old. He let her go outside for half an hour by herself the day before. They were alone on the property, so he thought she’d be safe, but he should have know better. There was who knows how many things that can hurt a child no matter where you were. “Why do you think that?”
“I’m bleedin’ and my belly hurts.”
Don’t let your children see you afraid. It’ll just scare her. “Where are you bleeding?”
She blushed and her eyes flicked down unvoluntarily, and Thomas felt relieved. He knew what was happening.
“Oh, hon, you’re not hurt.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re just growing up. Do you want me to call Mrs. Clark and ask her to talk to you about it?”
“What’s ‘it’?” Marty’s face was now inquisitive.
His face heated now that the relief had faded. He really wished Martha was here now. He prided himself on being a man of science, but explaining this to his daughter was just … he’d thought he’d have a little more time. “It’s a part of growing up for girls.”
She started to cry and buried her face in his lap. “I don’t wanna grow up.”
“It’s okay, it’s just a part of life.” He patted her hair.
“Grown-ups gotta go away.” Martha would murder him if she knew how much he was letting the girls’ grammar slip, but he hadn’t the heart to correct them these past few months and now didn’t seem a good time to start. “I don’t want to leave.”
“No, no,” he assured and pulled her into the chair with him. She was getting too big for this, but she seemed comforted by it. “Hon, you don’t ever have to leave, even if you grow up. You’ll always be my little girl. I won’t ever make you leave. Besides, this is just a part of growing up. You still got a long, long ways.”
“Pinky promise?”
“You got it.”
Clothes
Alexander was hunched over his computer outside of the ladies’ changing room hunched over his computer. “Angie, are you all right in there?”
“I’m fine, Dad.” The exasperation was so evident that he could hear her eyes roll. A few minutes later, she came back out wearing a pair of ripped jeans. “I hate the dress. I don’t know why, but it just sucks.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not buying you that.”
“Why not?” She raised an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. “They meeting the dress code.”
“Because they look like they fell off a truck on the highway.” He closed his laptop. “Put them back. The jeans you tried on earlier were fine -- get another pair of those in a different color.”
“Dad!” Angie’s jaw dropped. Then she shut it, tossed her curly hair and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
On the car ride back, Angie was clearly annoyed.
Alexander sighed. “Ange, I know you’re mad. The clothes we bought looked nice.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I just don’t know why you want clothes with tears in them already.” He sighed and rolled his shoulders. “When I was your age, I only got new clothes once a year, if that. If I grew out of the clothes I had, I got hand-me-downs. Sometimes new clothes came from garage sales.”
Angie still wasn’t responding, but he knew was listening.
“I’m your parent. I’m supposed to buy you the things you need. I know logically that you getting a little dirty or a your clothes a little raggedy won’t hurt you, but it makes me feel anxious -- like I’m not taking care of you the way I should.”
The car was quiet for a while.
Then Angie laid her cheek on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Dad.”
Dances
Burr winced when the door slammed open. Theo stomped into the room, soaking wet and grumbling. She dropped her bag onto the desk and sat down on the four-legged stool in the corner of the office. Her eyeliner was running down her face. Burr sat down the book he was reading and walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
“You’re home early. What happened?”
She angrily pulled one of the glittering bobby pins out of her hair. “Joe was twenty minutes late to the restaurant, with no explanation or apology and then, when we got to the dance, he ignored me.” She added bitterly, “He danced with every girl but me.”
It was storming outside. “Honey, why didn’t you call me.”
“I was embarrassed.” Theo pulled out a few more pins and piled them on the desk. “I called Angie, and she and Mrs. Hamilton came and picked me up. You weren’t expecting me back until late, so Mrs. Hamilton took us out for some ice cream before bringing me back.”
“Theo, you should have called me when you left the dance,” Burr said firmly. “I didn’t know where you were. I just assumed you’d be there.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t think of it.” She sounded genuinely remorseful and tired.
He sighed and hugged her. “That’s because you’re not a parent yet. You don’t worry about these things. Just don’t do it again.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry your boyfriend ditched you.”
“It’s fine,” she mumbled. “Boys will be boys, I guess.”
“I thought I raised you better,” he admonished. “That was a shitty thing for him to do to you, and he did it because he doesn’t emphasize with other people. Go get some sleep. I’m taking you to the zoo tomorrow. Angie can come too if you want.”
She laughed a little and hiccuped. “Thanks. You’re the best.”