"Life is short. Smile while you still have teeth."

~Unknown

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The doctors make me wait outside while they take Dusty's X-Ray and the hallway is eerily quiet. I check my watch. It's already almost six o'clock.

The hall is painted in a bright red color, with a large rainbow arching across it. Ew.

I hate children's facilities. They just assume kids want all of this tacky crap hanging around. I can't think of one child who would appreciate reruns of Spongebob Squarepants on the TV over and over and over again while paintings of farm animals with soulless eyes stare at them from the walls.

I also can't believe Dusty broke her arm.

Or that Finn is here too.

Or that Aimee hasn't sent a sniper to shoot me through the window yet.

But I keep telling myself that a broken arm is less my fault than one of the girls getting suspended from school. Good moms get kids with broken arms all the time, right?

I sigh and make my way back to the waiting room to check up on Eloise and Jemma.

I open the door and see Jemma sitting in-between Finn and Eloise, concentrating hard on the notebook in her lap as she makes gentle strokes with a pencil. Finn guides her hand in delicate swirls across the page.

"That's so cool!" Eloise cries. That's the most excited I've heard her sound in days. "Let me try."

Finn takes the notebook and gives it to her before noticing I'm standing there.

He gives a wink and I smile.

"How is she?" he asks.

"Hopefully done soon," I reply.

The doctor calls me back to fill out the paperwork. I have to guess a few of the answers, just like any test. I Googled how much the average 5-year-old weighs, and put that down.

Soon we're back on the road. Dusty has a shiny, new pink cast on her right arm and they're all piled in the back watching sweaty people fight zombies.

I sneak a glance at Finn, who drives like he's taking a stroll through a meadow. Calm. Peaceful.

I sigh and push my hair into a ponytail. "Not exactly the aquarium adventure we were hoping for."

"Adventures only happen when you least expect it. Today was more of an adventure than we'd thought it would be yesterday."

I snicker. "Right." I glance out the window again. "Um, thanks again. For everything."

"My pleasure, Miss Beverly."

"Maybe we...or, us...could do it again sometime?" I suggest. "Except maybe without the broken bones, screaming children, and angry moms?"

I watch his face carefully.

His lips twitch into a knowing smile and he nods. "I...think that would be quite nice, yes."

We drop him off at the aquarium where his car is parked and by the time we leave, the girls are more hangry than a bear who decided to pillage a vegan cafe. Thankfully, it's nothing a few McNuggets can't fix, and we're headed back home.

When I pull into the driveway, I look behind me to see that the girls are all sound asleep.

Eloise is curled up next to the window, Jemma is leaning against the car seat, and Dusty looks like she just keeled over headfirst.

I smile to myself, feeling...what is that? Warmth? In my heart? I don't really know how to describe it. But I do know that, despite the mishaps, today was a good day. It felt good to be with Finn and the girls. We were almost like a family, but not in a creepy way. Just, in a nice way.

~~~~~~

September brings blessed cool weather. No more having my thighs stick to the leather seats of the car.

The 24th is Dusty's birthday.

I'm not the best with remembering birthdays mostly because, if I don't remember, I don't have to send a gift, but Dusty has been counting down the days since July, Eloise tells me.

Sacha comes over and decorates Dusty's room while she's asleep with balloons, rainbows, and unicorns so she wakes up to her own birthday bash. It's a school day, so I slip a wax voodoo doll that I got from a New Orleans magazine subscription into her lunch box, knowing that she'll adore it.

When she comes home, me, Eloise, and Jemma give her her gifts: a new princess pajama set from Eloise, a fart candle from Jemma, and a winter hat that looks like zombie-eaten brains from me. There's also a plethora of gifts sent from Aimee ranging from Crayons to puzzles to fruit snacks. She joins the festivities via FaceTime and I have to wait to give Dusty her giant bag of pinata candy until after she hangs up.

Between episodes of our Walking Dead marathon (of which Aimee definitely does not know about), Dusty says something that fills me with dread.

"Daddy hasn't called me," she says in a voice so small that I almost think it's the ceiling fan whining for a second.

The room stills.

Jemma and Eloise exchange glances.

Dusty looks at me. "Did he forget?"

I open my mouth, hoping some sort of coherent sentence will come out, but thankfully Dusty continues, "Can I call him?"

What else am I supposed to say? No, you have to watch Daryl blow the head off of a zombie instead of calling your dad?

I look to Eloise for support.

She gives a reluctant nod and lets Dusty borrow her phone.

The phone rings.

And rings.

And rings.

Dusty hangs up and tries again.

And again.

And again.

My heart sinks. I know this feeling of longing and disappointment all too well. He's never going to care, I want to say, and it's not your fault.

Instead, I wipe Dusty's welling tears and say, "I think it's time for a spectacular unicorn-zombie cake."

Dusty sniffles. "Really?"

"I'll go get it!" Jemma cries, and runs into the kitchen.

Eloise says, "I'll help."

I ordered a cake from Walmart, but since there was no zombie-unicorn theme, I had to buy figurines to put on top and make a red bloodbath out of frosting.

That's when I hear the crash from the kitchen, followed by two screams.

Dusty and I race into the kitchen and I stop short.

Eloise and Jemma are on the verge of tears, standing in the wreckage that used to be the Walmart cake.

It's utterly obliterated on the floor.

"I..." Eloise starts, but can't go on.

We are on the brink of a mass breakdown.

I quickly reach over to the drawer and grab four spoons. "This wouldn't be the first time I've eaten cake off the floor."

"Like monkeys!" Dusty cries, delighted.

After seeing that she's okay, Jemma and Eloise relax.

We sit on the floor and dig our spoons into the cake. Dusty makes a game of finding the figurines buried in the cake and soon we've eaten almost the entire thing.

I think the girls are on such a sugar high that they won't even remember their disappointment with their dad in the morning.

I'd say that the day was a success, all things considered.