Fleetwood Mac-Part III of Fritz Series

My Girl

March 1971

"Mommy nanna" frustrated at yet another of my outbursts Stevie's giving me the cold shoulder. Is it my fault that Wonsley wants this record done faster than we anticipated? Is it my fault that Bob and Brian can't stop fucking off for longer than a few minutes so I can get shit done? Is it my fault she's lost her voice yelling at me? Nope. She's an adult, she could always try not yelling at me "Addy nanna"

"Well Lindsey?"

"Well what Stephanie?"

"Don't say my name in that condescending tone"

"How would you like me to say your name Your Majesty?"

"Stop being an ass-" she stops herself, Sara's got little ears and she's talkative. The last thing we need is her repeating our cusswords to Robin, or my mom, or the Nicks'. neither of us is going to give an inch on the stubbornness. Arms crossed we stare each other down from across the kitchen "Addy, Mommy nanna" we've been arguing so much lately it doesn't take much for us to be at each others throats. Ever since my dad died, ever since she gave me the ultimatum about my drinking and seeing a shrink "Addy! Nanna!"

Who? Turning I see my little girl with her hands flat on the table, she's reaching for one of the bananas in the fruit bowl, but she's teetering on the edge of one of the chairs that's she's somehow managed to climb. My heat drops into my stomach, one false move and she'll fall face first onto the table then to the floor. Stevie gasps reaching the same conclusion as I do at the same time. Our argument forgotten we nearly topple each other to steady our daughter, elevating her to a safety. She fusses still reaching for her banana.

"Sara, baby if you want a nanna ask me or daddy" squirming her chubby fist goes to her mouth and she pouts "Nanna" quickly I pick one of the curved fruits peeling and cutting it into slices for her. Stevie and I sit at the table next to each other, silently I spoon bites of banana to Sara while she hums happily. We don't speak, our eyes saying more than words could. That was close. We were so busy being upset over...honestly nothing, she could have really injured herself. Or worse. Shuddering I plant a kiss on Sara's curls, taking a deep breath of the combination of her shampoo and what Stevie calls her "baby smell".

I can't describe it. It's almost like how animals in the wild can tell their cubs from others in a pack "Nannas make you big and strong right baby girl?" chewing noisily she nods "Mhmm" Stevie meets my eyes again, she smiles this time. Leaning forward we rub noses, then kiss softly in apology to each other. looking up from her bowl Sara kisses Stevie's cheek then mine "All better". The two of us look down at our daughter and I chuckle to myself "I think our daughter just conveyed her disdain for our fighting" it's almost to silly to think of, but Sara's smart and very observant. It wouldn't surprise me if she distracted us on purpose.

***

"Daddy can I have a banana?" She's sitting up today, still hooked to tubes and wires that scare me but she's awake. Without hesitating I retrieve one curved yellow fruit from the goody basket Barbra brought up to Sara's room. Seamlessly I shift into dad mode peeling and cutting it into chunks watching each piece fall into a plastic bowl on Sara's tray. I have to stop my self from spoon feeding them to her though, she's ten years old not ten months. For my effort I get a smile and a soft thank you. I want to cry each time I hear her voice. Right now Stevie's downstairs getting lunch us, our state minder is in the corner scribbling notes.

The police will come later today to talk to Sara. Since we're suspects we're not allowed to be in the room with her. Jess and Barbra will act in our stead as Sara's guardians. As infuriating as it is I have to accept it to be cleared. Then they can go after the actual guilty party, Kit Maylor.