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"How about….. the zoo?" Matt asks brightly, part of him hoping that his enthusiasm might be contagious.
But Grace's reaction is at best, underwhelming. She tilts her head and hums out a long, indecisive, "mmmm" that seems to meander from one way to the next.
Matt rubs his brow and lowers himself down onto the couch, taking special care to check between the cushions before he fully commits his weight.
Because these days, he's knows better.
And last week was the first and last time he ever wants to impale himself on an unfortunatly placed plastic unicorn.
"C'mon, you liked it there didn't you?" Matt reminds her gently. "The monkeys, the penguins? What are those other things called? Tapirs?"
And actually Matt's quite proud of his now pretty extensive wildlife knowledge, which had all started the first time all three of them had visited the zoo. He could name most of them by smell alone. In fact, he can almost smell it now, lingering in the backs of his nostrils.
Zoos were not built for people with noses like his.
But still, he'd violate even his most delicate of senses every day, if he had to. For her. Anything for her.
He waits a little longer while she ponders her answer. Because these are big decisions, right? For a kid. And maybe he shouldn't be letting her make decisions at all, but he's soft like that.
Karen says so anyway.
But once she starts fiddling, Matt realises all he's really done is succeed in confusing her further. And at this point, she's far more interested in playing with her narwhal plushie than she is about answering the question.
Matt makes an attempt to sweeten the deal.
"We can get ice cream after?" he suggests, pushing away the thought of Karen and the fact she'd insisted that whatever they do, it had to be something educational, to the back of his mind.
It almost works too. Grace clambers up from her kneeling position before she's momentarily distracted by something else, dumping her toy and toddling off.
"I like ice cream, but...."
"But what?"
"But you can't see them, daddy. The monkeys."
Matt can't help but laugh, but it's sweet. And careful. "No, sweetie, but you can describe them to me, remember? Like you did last time?"
No answer.
Matt tries a different angle. "Okay… how about, instead of the zoo, we go and see uncle Foggy for a bit, huh? Then we can get ice cream. If you want to."
Surely she can't have any objections to that. Going to visit uncle Foggy? The best uncle ever in the world uncle Foggy — the 'you're so much funnier than daddy' uncle Foggy — Matt's not bitter.
But instead of the boundless delight Matt had been hoping for, there's just another drawn out silence that forces him to let out a weary sigh as he tracks her journey around the back of the couch.
He listens in to the tiny uncoordinated patter of her feet before she comes to an unsteady stop.
Then the slap slap slap of her hand on the bare wood floor.
There's a crayon under there somewhere— Matt hears it rolling around just beyond the reach of her fingers.
"I wanna stay here," she says, finally managing to grab it and using it to begin scribbling on a scrap piece of paper that's bent in the most impractical way around the curve of her knee.
Apparently, Matt's softening with age. Because he would happily stay right here too. Stay inside. Where it's quieter. Less busy. They could entertain each other somehow.
But.
"Mom said I've got to take you somewhere where you can learn something," Matt replies. "But I promise it'll be fun, okay?" But when he tunes back in Grace isn't even listening anymore. She's doing that thing she does when she's concentrating really hard and consequently ignoring just about everything else — he can tell by the short, sharp puffs of air concentrated through her nostrils and the way her tiny fist, death-grips the crayon in her hand like it might have personally wronged her somehow.
"The aquarium?" he tries again, realising after he's said it that's it's pretty much just the zoo, but wetter. "We can watch the lady feed the sharks?"
There's a thoughtful pause between her frantic scribbling.
"The pancake sharks?"
…..
The what?
Matt stifles a laugh. "The what, sweetheart?"
"The sharks but they look like pancakes," she says obviously.
Matt is confused.
"I petted one. His name was Steveeeen."
Wait.
"Ohhhh. You mean the stingrays? Right," Matt chuckles. "Wow, you remembered they were kind of — That's —" Wow. Matt really needs to brush up on his shark facts. "Well...do you wanna go see those?"
"Mmmmmmm. I think I'd rather eat them."
Oh. Nice. Clever.
Matt clenches his jaw, suppressing the temptation to laugh again and instead, dons his best and most serious parent face.
"Sure, I mean. I hear sharks are tasty this time of year."
"Ew! Daddy no I don't wanna eat the shark!"
"Ohhhh…" he smiles, turning to dangle his arm over the back of the couch and scrunching his hand up in her hair. "Not even with chocolate sauce?"
Grace giggles louder, screaming, "no! Yucky!" again and again until she's fired up enough to stomp her way back around to confront him. "I mean reeeeal pancakes. Not sharks!" She crosses her arms and sulks.
"Ohhh . Real pancakes? Sorry I didn't realise." Matt lifts her up to sit her on his knee, her crumpled up paper landing in his lap. "And what's this you've been drawing?" he asks, changing the subject, because they're not making pancakes again. Definitely not. Not after last time.
Grace shrugs bashfully. "You," she answers.
"Me?"
"And me. And mommy."
Matt clears his throat. Because in moments like this, Matt either cries, or laughs. These days, there's rarely ever an in-between. Especially when Grace knows the exact spot that always hurts the most; curling her fingers around his and tugging to draw him closer, guiding him so he can feel the minute indentations that she's carved into the page.
Matt thinks she's changing him. Morphing him into something else. Something more capable of loving, not just her, but himself. And the world that was so impossibly big before — so impossibly lonely, is just a little less so now that he has her.
Choking back the embarrassing lump that's formed in his throat, his fingers map out the shapes, following a circular line that's slippery with wax in comparison to the sandpapery texture of the paper. The smaller figure, which has two squiggly legs and zagged lines for hair also has two triangles above it that feel suspiciously like horns.
"Is this you in your Halloween costume?" Matt already knows it is. The fizzling excitement in her throat before she speaks confirms it.
"Mayyybe…."
Matt rolls his eyes.
The whole, dressing their daughter as Daredevil thing had been a good joke for all of five minutes before Grace had taken too strong of a liking to it, deciding that the plastic horns were the perfect accessory for everyday wear — much to the disliking of Matt's mother.
"And who's this?"
To the left there's a shorter, much rounder figure made up of four lines and varying sized circles.
"Oh that's Molly," she answers mischievously.
"And who's Molly?"
Grace twists back against his arm, turning away. "Our dog."
Matt shakes his head. Again with the — "We're not getting a dog Grace, I told you –"
"But — "
"No –"
She lets a huff that turns into a high pitched shriek — shrill enough to make Matt wince, before she tosses the paper and shoves out her bottom lip. Matt has to close his eyes. Just for a moment. To readjust. Taking in a deep, lungful of air before he sits her back, tucking a loose strand of her hair back away from her face.
Apparently it's darker now that she's older. Brownish with red undertones. More like his.
Her stubbornness really shouldn't come as a surprise.
"Maybe I'll think about it," he says.
God, he's such a pushover.
She screams with glee and Matt immediately thinks about ways he can erase what he's just said, or at least, distract her from it.
He chooses to pick her up. It's quick and satisfying. She's airborne for a second before he catches her again at his waist with a yelp, her hands slapping against his thighs and back in protest as she struggles, laughing; pressure building up in her voice that eventually comes out as an uncontrollable screech. Matt lives for that screech.
He turns her upside down, holding her by both ankles and he walks as she clings tightly to his leg. "Hey you wanna learn some cool stuff?"
Matt's being bad again.
No, Matt's being responsible.
A young woman should know how to take care of herself.
Grace cry-laughs out a sound that means yes.
"Okay, but don't tell mom." He's joking, obviously. Grace couldn't keep a secret for all the ice cream in the world which is exactly why this is such a terrible idea.
But it's also far too much fun.
"I won't I won't I won't," she says as he carefully lowers her down. "I wanna be a ninja!"
Matt grins. "A ninja, huh? Like, flips and stuff?"
"Yeah! Backflips!" Grace does a little squat-kick that's equal parts adorable and deadly, especially now that he's kneeling pretty much at eye level, which means he's well within range when she charges at him, all flying elbows and loud stomping feet. But Matt catches her in his arms, predictably. Gently flips her down into her back and uses the opportunity to blow a devastating raspberry into the exposed skin of her belly, triggering a laughing fit that's so intense, Matt starts to question how she's still managing to pull in enough air to breathe.
"Some ground rules first okay?" Matt gives her a serious look.
"What's a groundrule?"
Matt laughs. "Erm. It's uh…" and just like that, he doesn't know any English. "It's just a rule, okay? And it's very important."
She nods, panting.
"So you only use these things I teach you with me. No beating bad guys up at school?"
Not like he did.
Matt senses the tight line forming across the soft features of her face and then her frantic nod that makes her hair pop and crackle with static against the floorboards.
"Promise I won't, I promise."
Karen's going to have words to say about this. Encouraging violence. Flaunting his not so secret skill sets in front of children who aren't exactly known for their secret keeping abilities.
But Matt thinks it's a risk worth taking.
Once Grace is on her feet again, Matt holds up his palms like they're a pair of speed mitts. "You remember the one, two?" He demonstrates with a light and quick prod, right, left to the ticklish part of her shoulder.
"One, two!" she repeats, tapping the center of his right palm, then his left, when he wiggles his fingers to remind her.
Grace is a southpaw too, he's noticed. Like him. Not that he's been watching out for her mean left hook.
But he sort of has. Just a little.
Matt smiles. "Good, now you remember this one?" He loops his finger around the collar of his own t-shirt, hinting, and she pauses to think.
"Go on," he encourages.
She puts her hand on his collar and giggles, unsure, and that's when Matt's reminded of what a good actor he's had to become as of late.
"Oh no! What are you gonna do?" When she looks at him quizzically, he mouths — "put your hand here," indicating to his waist, and when Grace pulls and twists, Matt naturally makes the resulting fall as overly dramatic as humanly possible, half tumbling over her shoulder and onto his back.
"Yeah!" A scream of victory. "Now stay down, Mister!"
Matt bursts into laughter before remembering he's supposed to be acting scared.
"Awh no, you got me you got me you got me!" he stammers out, wincing as she climbs on top of him; her small knees and pointy elbows buried in his thigh and the soft hollow of his stomach.
"I said, surrender!" she yells again. Matt shields his face with his elbows as her hands try their best to slip between his wrists in an attempt to pry them open.
When he decides to make his counter attack, he's fast enough that she doesn't even get close before his hands are at her ribs and she's screaming.
"No! Tickling!"
"Huh? What? No what?"
She lurches back and manages to wriggle free, scrambling up and turning to run straight for him again, brimming with revenge.
Still, Matt dodges her easily as she passes by under his arm, right before he goes in for another rib attack.
That's when Grace grabs the nearest object and lobs it at him — and thankfully, it's just her narwhal teddy which bounces off his hands when he instinctively deflects it.
"Now who's breaking rules, misses?" Grace makes a break for it and Matt puts his hands on hips, his knees complaining a little now, from scooting around on the hard floor. "That's right, you better run."
He crawls forward and scoops her up by her waist. "You know what happens to rule breakers don't you?"
"Nooooooooooo," she protests. "Pleassseeee."
But by now, Matt's smiling so hard his cheeks physically ache and so it's even harder to keep his tone cool, and disciplined, and merciless. But he does anyway. "Nope, you've done it now. Too late," he says.
Grace starts writhing, her hands twisting in his t-shirt.
"Using weapons," Matt tuts, "you get this from your mom, you know."
"Daddy! No!"
"Yep. In the trash!" he says coldly, having already made the short walk over to the kitchen, his foot pressing weightily on the pedal of their trash can, which in turn flips up the lid.
When he leans her another inch or two forward over the abyss she scream-laughs out another —
"Nopleasepleasedaddydon'tputmeinthebinpleaseIpromisIdidntmeanto…"
And that would obviously be the exact moment that Karen walks through the door, freezing on the spot at the sight of Matt, suspending their daughter, head first over an open trash can.
"Two hours. I was gone for two hours…"
Matt pauses. Turns Grace back the right way up and places her down guiltily and she runs to the safety of Karen's legs.
"You're back early.."
Karen stands there. Pretending to be serious. They have to do a lot of that sort of thing lately, but underneath it all, Matt knows she's laughing, which means he's safe. And probably already forgiven.
"Turns out they didn't need me for as long as I thought."
"Mom! I'm a ninja!"
Matt grits his teeth.
"Ohhh. You're a ninja are you?"
"It's probably just a phase," Matt says, shrugging.
"Worked out well for daddy, didn't it," she mutters quietly. "But that sounds amazing! You'll have to show me later."
Matt grins, and backs away slowly.
Karen makes eyes at him. "Maggie said she'd uh... take Grace for a few hours this afternoon...."
Matt tries not to react. "Oh? That's uh..."
"Yeah, some kind of...Easter games thing at the orphanage? She said Grace might enjoy it, so..."
Matt nods. Making a note on where exactly Grace is — "So…. What you're saying is…". He moistens his lips before sliding his hand into Karen's open jacket. "Childfree afternoon?"
With that, Karen's cheeks prickle with a tantalisingly familiar kind of heat.
"That's kind of what I'm saying, yeah."
"Mmm. That's interesting."
Matt could have another — he really could. Or at the very least, they could have fun pretending.
He places a soft kiss on the bridge of Karen's nose which turns into a peck, then a sneaky and surprisingly breathless kiss when tilts up her chin and meets her lips with his tongue. "Well then."
"Well then."
Matt turns towards the living room.
"Hey Grace," he calls out. "Um. Get your coat, sweetheart. You're going to see grandma."