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“Kalle shouldn’t have said anything,” I say as I walk Hettie back to her room after dinner. Tema has Abigail by the hand and is skipping down the long hall.
I’ve never seen anyone skip in the castle. Not even when we were kids. We ran, wrestled, and raced. Not even Lyra skipped.
“He wasn’t wrong,” Hettie says. “We do need to talk about it.”
“About what, exactly?”
“What’s going to happen. The future? Tema’s future.”
“The fact you want a divorce,” I can’t help but add. “I didn’t think that was appropriate dinner conversation.”
Hettie doesn’t confirm or deny.
Abigail and Tema disappear into the room and I linger in the hall with Hettie. All my positive feelings about how perfectly Hettie fit in with my family, and how well Tema did at dinner, are overshadowed by one word.
Divorce.
We haven’t had much of a marriage to speak of, but still—part of me knew that Hettie was still mine. At least I hoped she was. If we are to make the split legal, that means she’s gone forever. Maybe not Tema, but Hettie.
The thought knots up my insides.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hettie asks. Her lips press together and she looks… I’m not sure if it’s wishful thinking, or I’m transferring my thoughts on her, but Hettie looks sad.
“Not really,” I admit. “But yeah.”
“I have to give Tema a bath. If you don’t mind waiting—”
“Can I help?” Hettie looks surprised. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever given a kid a bath before, but I figure it’s something I need to know how to do, right?”
“Let’s give it a try then.”
Bathtime consists of filling the tub with a mountain of bubbles and letting Tema play in them. Hettie brought a collection of ducks and boats and a Slurpee cup she uses to rinse the shampoo from Tema’s hair.
“Always wash her hair first,” Hettie instructs. “And leave the conditioner on for a while because she’s got the worst tangles.”
“It’s not the worst. Abigail has curlier hair than I do unless she makes it straight,” Tema says, not looking up from her naval battle—boats against ducks.
Abigail went back to her room as soon as I stepped up to help with bathtime. Not that I do much to help. Hettie gives a play-by-play as she does things and I’m okay with that. Tema looks slippery and there’s a lot of bubbles. I wouldn’t want to deal with soap in the eyes.
But even though I sit on the toilet and watch, it’s surprisingly nice to be involved.
Hair care has been finished and Tema is still mid-battle when Hettie’s phone rings from the other room.
“That might be…” she stammers. “I need to check.”
Him. It must be him. “Go take it. I’ve got this,” I tell her, trying for casual and coming up with mildly miserable.
“I can call him back,” she insists.
“Go take your call. How hard can this be?” I wink at Tema. “I know how to give myself a bath.”
Hettie bites her lip. “I’ll be right in the next room. Behave yourself, please,” she says to Tema.
“We’re good.” I wave her away. “Do you normally not behave?” I ask Tema, moving closer to bob one of the ducks on top of the bubbles. Every time it lands, bubbles fly everywhere, making Tema laugh.
“I always behave,” she announces.
“Do you always tell the truth?”