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“Miss Delain,” I said, shaking her hand. Her grip was professional, her hands cool to the touch.
“The kids call me Miss Chloë,” she said. Her voice was a pretty alto, strong, but with a hint of girlish rust about the edges. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kendrick.”
“Owen’s fine,” I said.
She smiled, a winsome expression on her. I hadn’t known what to expect, but Miss Chloë hadn’t been it. For some reason, I’d pictured an older woman, not this pretty woman in her mid to late 20s.
“First off, Haley’s doing great. Wanted to get that out of the way. She’s smart, she’s never a problem, always helps with clean-up…I wish all the kids were like her.”
“That’s always something a father wants to hear,” I said, although it was my first real one of these. The room was bright and happy, with a checkerboard rug in all the colors of the rainbow, and the walls hung with pictures of animals, letters, and various finished projects all drawn in a kindergartener’s uncertain hand.
Miss Chloë tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. She had a lot of hair, chestnut waves tumbling past her shoulders. Straight bangs framed her face. Once again I was struck by how pretty she was. A pretty that sneaked up on you, only grew more interesting the more you looked.
She bit her lip. Her lipstick was a brighter red than was in fashion, a throwback to the ’40s or ’50s. Vintage. “There is one thing I wanted to ask. Haley’s mother…”
“Passed on,” I said automatically.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was four years ago. Haley doesn’t remember her.”
“That was what I wanted to ask you. Everyone was drawing their families, and, well…”
She produced a piece of paper from a folder. In the clear crayon lines that I knew were my daughter’s, I saw what was a reasonable depiction of the characters from Wizard of Oz.
“Oh yeah.” How to explain this? “I didn’t know how to explain death to her. She figured out something was up in preschool.”
“She’s very smart.”
“Got that from her mom.”
Miss Chloë smiled, concern in her big blue eyes. They were behind a pair of chunky hipster glasses, and were big enough to belong to a Disney princess. “Go on.”
“Well, Jenn always loved that movie. She got Haley a storybook version of it, illustrated, for kids. I read it to her every night to get her to sleep. When she asked, I panicked and told her Jenn was in Oz. I should have been preparing for that conversation, but I wasn’t. Later on, I explained death and I guess the wires got crossed a little, and now she might think Oz is where we go when we die.” I ran an awkward hand through my own hair. “I know. Not exactly World’s Greatest Dad.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself. Coping is different for everyone, and she doesn’t have any signs of trauma. Maybe this isn’t gonna fly with her religious classmates, but it hasn’t come up.”
“I’ll explain when she’s older.”
“Or she could have a fun surprise if she ever ends up in a church.” Her eyes got big. Well, bigger, anyway. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kendrick. I didn’t mean to make light.”
“You didn’t,” I said. “I realize it’s a ridiculous situation, but that’s what parenthood is.”
“Can I ask something else? Do you work?”
“I’m a cinematographer,” I said. Still felt strange to say, what with only two movies under my belt. Like it could be taken away. It was real enough to get me and Haley into a nice house in the hills.
“That’s amazing! What do you do for childcare?”
“I hire someone. She’s been with us for three years now. College student. She’s majoring in child development, so I figure she’s qualified.”
“That’s good to hear.” She stood up. Her outfit was adorable, a form-fitting blouse with a cardigan over it, a high-waisted skirt, and dark tights. Her shoes were a pair of mary janes that I bet were authentic vintage. She had that look to her. Authentic vintage. “That’s everything. Once again, I couldn’t be happier to have Haley in my class.”
I got up, taking Miss Chloë’s hand again. She gave me that same forthright handshake with the same cold fingers. “Thank you,” I said. “Haley has nothing but good things to say about you.”
“We’re mutual fans.”
When I got home, Laura was playing with Haley in the living room. Laura Sanchez was going into her senior year of college at UCLA. She was pretty in a tough kind of way. One thing I admired about her was that she was surly as hell to everyone but kids. With anyone under 13, she had boundless patience. Haley loved her. Hell, so did I. She was the niece I never had.
“Daddy!” I got the big hug, the best gift a father ever could.
“I was gonna order Chinese,” I said.
“Really?” Haley gasped. The way to Haley’s heart was orange chicken.
“Miss Chloë had nothing but good things to say, and the way I figure it, good girls get as much orange chicken as they want. Laura, do you want to hang out? I’ll get enough for everyone.”
“It’s cool,” she said. “I gotta get back to campus. Big test in the morning.” fındıkzade escort She gathered up her things.
“Need a ride?”
“I brought my bike. It’s all good.” She dropped to one knee and held out her arms. “C’mere, Squirt.”
Haley ran into her embrace. Laura held her, with no more love than if she was her natural born. They looked nothing alike. Haley had the strawberry blonde hair and Welsh complexion from me, while Laura’s skin was olive edging to brown, and her hair was long and black. She planted a kiss on Haley’s cheek and was out the door.
Within the hour, Haley and I were enjoying our feast, then it was time to read her the Wizard of Oz book. As she always did, she traced the drawing of the Emerald City with her fingers. I knew she was thinking of the mother she didn’t really remember, that she only knew by the picture on the wall outside the kitchen. The one of Jenn, young and radiant, holding chubby little Haley. Jenn’s smile was bright and wide for a future she’d never see.
Haley conked out at the end of the book. I went into the living room and watched TV with my headphones. While I was trying to concentrate on dragons and beautiful women, I couldn’t stop thinking about Miss Chloë. The confident pressure of her hand and the depthless blue of her eyes. I’d been attracted to women before, but I’d always told myself it was too soon. Maybe it wasn’t.
After the meeting with Miss Chloë, I got a job shooting an interesting flick for a director I vaguely knew, Jason Palmieri, who liked my work on my last show. The story, by a first time screenwriter, was this kind of gritty urban dark fantasy thing. They shot it downtown and along the river. I threw myself into it, trying to get the look right, to make the fantastical stuff look like part of reality, and the realistic stuff fantastic.
The lead was incredible. I’d seen Anna Call in the movie that put her on the map, a kind of generic potboiler that, while undeniably silly, she’d absolutely killed in. That had come out a year ago, and she had another movie under her belt where she’d proven that performance was no fluke. Anyone watching the dailies for this could see her talent. She had It.
She was gorgeous, a petite redhead with a body like a pinup model and a face that made you want to sack Troy. I approached her beauty like a special effect of its own. Something for the audience to wonder over. This movie would be the city’s love letter to her.
I got so wrapped up in the shoot, I’d stopped thinking about Miss Chloë as anything other than my kid’s teacher. Haley loved her, and that made me happy. Knowing the kid was taken care of at school was enough for me.
It was the weekend before Thanksgiving when I took Haley to an arcade downtown. It was one of those throwback places, a hipster hangout where everyone could recapture their youth by playing the old cabinets from the ’80s and ’90s. I’d introduced Haley to that stuff, and my first gift to myself after my first movie was a vintage Centipede machine that stood in my living room. Haley preferred watching to playing, picking the game and cheering me on.
Haley and I ate chicken fingers and fries, drank way too much Dr Pepper, and we made our way from game to game according to her whim. High scores bought tickets, and she had her eye on a stuffed Dragonite at the prize kiosk. As the responsible father I was, I was absolutely determined that she’d go home with that thing.
I was acquitting myself well enough at Galaga, and thinking that if I was gonna be serious I should head over to the Centipede machine. Haley, sitting on a stool next to me and sipping at her soda said, “Hi, Miss Chloë!”
My concentration broken, I zigged when I should have zagged and ate a butterfly alien to the face. My ship vanished in a throaty explosion. I started to turn ready to apologize to whoever she’d mistaken for her teacher. “Honey, you can’t call every pretty lady with glasses…” I finished the turn and found Miss Chloë standing not five feet away. She was dressed a bit more casually, in shorts and tights, with a Muppets t-shirt under a light jacket. Her expression was halfway between awkward and amused.
“Hi, Haley!” she said. “Mr. Kendrick.”
“It’s Owen. I’m sorry, I just assumed that Haley was making a mistake.”
“You shouldn’t assume that, Daddy,” Haley said gravely. “I see really good.”
I had to laugh, kissing my daughter’s forehead. “I’ll never doubt you again, Pumpkin.” I looked to the kindergarten teacher, once again reminded just how attractive she was. Even dressed down. Hell, especially dressed down. “What are you doing here?”
She gestured down in the direction of the restaurant area. “It’s my friend’s birthday. I saw you two over here and I kept wondering if I should go over, and then I thought it was weirder if I didn’t, and it was only getting weirder…”
An explosion pulled my attention back to the screen. Game Over. aksaray escort I’d been so distracted by Miss Chloë that I’d let Earth fall to the aliens.
“Oh, Daddy,” Haley scolded, shaking her head. She looked up at her teacher. “What’s your favorite game, Miss Chloë?”
“You’re playing it,” she said.
“Then be my guest,” I said, stepping aside.
“You sure? I’m pretty good. I might be here awhile.”
“Take me to school.”
“You asked for it.” She popped a token into the cabinet and took the controls like a gunfighter. The alien ships fell from the top of the screen and with ruthless efficiency, Miss Chloë chewed them up with streams of fire. With Galaga, the first couple stages are easy, but the game accelerates with each one. After a point, it becomes unplayable with the alien ships whirring around the screen like hyperactive bees, their projectiles impossible to dodge.
Or so I thought. Miss Chloë either had Ender’s Game-level alien killing reflexes or she knew the machine’s patters so well it didn’t matter. She plowed through stage after stage, racking up bonuses and extra lives. Haley clapped and cheered. I stopped looking at the game entirely, turning my attention to Miss Chloë’s face.
She was locked in concentration, her lips a thin line. Her big blue eyes twitched as she followed threats around the screen. Her glasses were lit up, and I knew if I could see her head on, they would be reflections of the game’s screen. In that moment, I felt like a kid again, in an arcade with my crush, watching her utterly annihilate a high score.
Nothing lasted forever, and she finally lost her last life. The high score board game up, asking for her initials in the number 4 spot. I watched her put them in.
“CAD?” I asked.
“Chloë Allison Delain,” she said, finishing up. That’s when I saw that 7 of the 10 initials on the high score board were hers.
“You weren’t kidding.”
“I need to clear those other names off,” she said with a grin. The machine spat out a roll of tickets, which she collected. “Okay, Haley, let’s go get you something with these.”
“There’s a Dragonite over there…”
“Then let’s get you a Dragonite.”
“You don’t have to,” I said to Chloë. “Those are your tickets. Once I hit the Centipede machine, that Dragonite is as good as hers.”
“I want to. Besides, I’m a Charmander girl.” She winked and I knew what it felt like to have my heart melt.
Chloë exchanged the tickets for the stuffie and handed it to a squealing Haley who wrapped her teacher in a hug. “Thank you, thank you Miss Chloë!”
“It was my pleasure. You’re gonna have to pick something else out for your Dad to win you.”
Haley nodded solemnly and started intently browsing. “Seriously, thank you,” I said.
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Can I buy you something to eat at least? I understand the corn dogs are good here. Imported all the way from France.”
She looked over at a table of who I assumed her friends were. They were all around five years younger than me, like she was, a gaggle of men and women, cool in a way that would have intimidated me once upon a time. A few looked in our direction and went back to eating. One, a good-looking and skinny guy who looked like he hit the open mics in the area, beckoned her over.
“Unless you have to get back to your friends.”
“But then I’d miss out on a French corn dog.” She waved him off.
I took her to the counter and ordered a couple corn dogs and drinks. Haley conned me into some candy corn, and I realized then getting her to sleep was going to be next to impossible. It was worth it for the smile on her face and the excited chatter about her new toy.
“So where are you from?” I asked.
“Portland.”
“What brought you down here?”
“I was going to be on American Idol.”
“Seriously?”
“No. I just wanted a change. What about you?”
“I’m from a little beach down up the coast. I moved down here to do movies.”
“The normal reason to come to this town.”
We kept chatting, and it was easy. We slid into conversation like we had been doing it for years. A simple ease that made me long for more. The three of us in this place, together, it felt right in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. I felt a momentary stab of guilt. Jenn, watching from Oz, but that was hard to feel with Chloë’s blue eyes on me.
“Daddy,” Haley said. “It’s time for Centipede.”
“Right, Pumpkin.”
Miss Chloë looked over at her friends. “I should probably get back,” she said.
Haley was leading the way down the aisle to claim the machine. “Yeah.” The thought of doing nothing felt bleak. I needed this feeling again. Needed to be with her in some way. “Hey, would it be weird if I asked for your number?”
“To talk about Haley’s progress? Yeah, that’s not really done.”
“I was thinking more to ask you on a date? Is that okay?”
“Oh!” Her eyebrows went up, and by the look on her face, eyüp escort she hadn’t even thought of it. “That would be great.”
I handed her my unlocked phone and she put her number in. “Thanks, Miss Chloë.”
“If you’re going to ask me out, how about just Chloë?”
“You’re right. The Miss thing would be weird.”
I texted Chloë as the shoot ended that January. The wrap party was coming up and that seemed like a fun thing to take a date to. Impress her a little while showing her a good time. I stood in the kitchen, staring at my phone, trying to come up with the perfect message that would somehow impress her into a date.
Hey, Chloë, it’s Owen. I was wondering if you were free Saturday night?
As soon as the text was away, I thought of a half-dozen ways to rephrase it, make it more appealing. Then I saw the three dots. She was writing back.
Who?
My heart sank. Hadn’t made the impression I was hoping for. Owen Kendrick. Haley’s dad.
Messing with you. What’s Saturday?
I wished I could see her, or even just hear the tone of her voice. Text was impossible to read into. Of course, that was the whole point. Wrap party for the movie. Kind of a fancy cocktail party. Maybe some dancing.
Should I do an accent? A pause, then another message. That would be funny if you heard me.
I’m laughing.
What should I wear? What are you wearing?
Formal, not black tie.
Got it.
This is a yes?
She gave me the emoji of the face sticking its tongue out. This is a yes.
Pick you up at 7
See you then. She sent me her address.
My heart leapt. Laura walked in, her usual saturnine expression lightened. “What happened to you?”
“I’ve got a date on Saturday.”
“Good. So I’m staying late.”
“Shit. Sorry, yes. Is that okay?”
She broke into a smile. “Yes, it’s okay. I could use the cash and god knows you could use the date.”
“That bad, huh?”
She shrugged. “Just be nice for you to move on a little bit.”
“I don’t think I’m moving on–“
“Not what I meant. Don’t overthink it. Have your date. If you need me to stay the night, text by midnight. Fair?”
“Fair. Thanks Laura.”
“You’re lucky I love Haley.”
I drifted out of the kitchen. I couldn’t escape what Laura had said. My heart was light with the possibility of a date with Chloë, but those words were an anchor, dragging me back to Earth. Moving on. I paused on the wall of our dining area, where the wall was decorated with photos of me and Jenn. My gaze lingered on my favorite, Jenn holding baby Haley and smiling with all the brightness of the sun.
Four years now. I could still hear her voice. Sometimes when I woke up in the middle of the night I was sure I would roll over and she would be there. This had been a dream. Then I would reach and her side of the bed was empty and cold. Even the idea that she had a side of the bed was silly. She’d never slept in this bed, never set foot in this house. All of this came from the success I had in the wake of her death. She’d never known this place. The life I led with Haley would be unrecognizable to her.
I was being ridiculous. I hardly knew Chloë. We’d had a parent teacher conference and a good time at an arcade one time. This could be nothing at all. A fun evening with someone who was important to Haley. No greater significance.
I was on pins and needles until Saturday. I took Haley to the zoo in the morning to help pass the time, and she ran from enclosure to enclosure with her usual enthusiasm. We watched the lions for a good hour, a male and a female who napped extravagantly in the winter sun.
In the afternoon, we got into the car and I took us home, navigating carefully through the Hollywood Hills.
“You’re hanging with Laura tonight,” I said. “I’ll be home after you fall asleep, so don’t try to stay up, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.” I felt her looking at me from the back seat. In the rearview mirror, her little face was a mask of concentration. In that moment she was the spitting image of Jenn. “You look like you’re going to a birthday party.”
“I do?”
“You look like you’re gonna unwrap presents. Are there presents?”
“No, it’s a work party. The only present is maybe a crew jacket. Actually, considering the budget, maybe a mug.”
“I hope it’s a good mug,” she decided.
“Thanks, Pumpkin.”
I got her home and into the tub while I changed. It was a Mad Men kind of suit that I was hoping Chloë would like. Laura arrived a short time later and was helping Haley from the tub when I came in fully outfitted.
“Not bad,” Laura said.
“Looking good, Daddy!”
I kissed the kid goodbye and drove down the hill. Chloë lived east of me, in an apartment building in the maze of streets near Hollywood, where everything was a turn away from both undeveloped wild areas and choked urban streets. Her complex’s Spanish-style architecture had been in vogue in the early days when Los Angeles went from flyspeck to boomtown. I took an exterior staircase to find her apartment. Lucky 13. I knocked and instantly wondered if I should have brought flowers. I was convinced I should when the door opened.
Chloë was always pretty. The adjective “adorable” had made a home in my mind for her without meaning to. Tonight, though, she was beautiful.
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