Page 30 of Even After This
Goodness. The animal that was jumping in my stomach just swooned.
We need to leave. Now.
7
“Mr. Penrose neededto build a zoo because he received a pet bear as a gift.” I hold out the brochure to Alex, displaying the sepia-toned picture of a handsome man sporting a handlebar mustache and baggy riding pants. He resembles the villain fromPenelope Pitstop.
“I want to take a hippo home,” Alex says.
“Nope. Sorry, kiddo. Promised your dad we would leave the animals here.” I pick her up and shift us to face the rest of the wildlife park. “But how cool is this? Penrose put his bear and all the other creatures he collected right here and carved a home for them on the side of this mountain. It’s like they’re still in the wilderness.”
Her face scrunches up in a serious manner. “Does Wocky live here?”
I bite my lip to censor myself before I can tell her that Rocky the Wonder Sheep would scare away not just the children but the entire zoo population. “No, sweetie.” I cough to disguise my laughter. “Rocky lives in his home with Rockina.” And some very unfortunate-looking costumes.
“Can I wide the animawls?”
Can I wide the animawls?Wide ... ride. Can I ride the animals.
Alex is patient with me, and her demonstrative little arms clarify as she points to the historic Allan Herschell carousel.
“Hmm.” How do I ask a small child if she struggles with vomit issues? Better question—how do I explain to a small child what a vomit phobia is? It’s not one of my more attractive qualities.
My imagination hijacks my rational thinking, and I visualize my full-on panic attack when Alex pukes on the merry-go-round as paparazzi report, “Harlan Holcombe’s Child Abandoned by Fainting Caretaker.”
So, no. We’re not going towide the animawls.
“Alex, let’s wait a little bit because lunchtime is soon.” I slide her body down the side of mine, and when her feet hit the ground, I grasp her hand. “We also need a potty break.”
Navigating the small, personable zoo is easy. We pass a woman pushing a sturdy stroller with a pink bundle inside, bringing the zoo patron total to seven. Signs lead us up a hill to the food court, and I feel a tug on my arm.
“I need my foose fried.”
“What, sweetie?” Foose fried. Foose fried. What in the world?
“I need my foose fried.” Her face contorts and she stomps her foot.
Sometimes I wish children Alex’s age came with a professional translator. My grown-up intellect cannot come up with anything useful. Up until this point she hasn’t been frustrated with me, but now she’s thrusting her foot to the ground in earnest.
Foose fried. Foose fried. I crouch down so my face can be at her level. “Alex, you’re doing a great job using your words. Do you think you can show me what you need?”
“She needs her shoes tied, you idiot.” The sharp voice pelts me from a few feet behind us.
Tingles of complete shock skitter over my body.
As the savage comment registers, Alex peers around me. Herface turns from caution to excited recognition. “Mommy!” She abandons me and runs.
This must be Olivia.
I exhale and close my eyes. Wanting to move to friendlier territory, I stand and turn toward the mother-daughter reunion.
Her toned arms open in a dramatic manner. “Hi, baby.”
Alex takes a flying leap to her mother.
Harlan’s ex-wife is striking. Long, gorgeous dark hair frames the face of a porcelain doll look-alike. Her eyes are an intoxicating green, and I’m not even focusing on her rock-hard body. Yup. She could date a movie star.
Olivia carries her child two steps and pauses in front of me. “Who are you?” She barks her words. “The flavor of the month?”
