Show Me

7.

As he'd expected, Lea was already up and dressed when he walked through the door, by 7:15. The scene was idyllic; his mother sitting next at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee beside her, Lea in her booster seat. She was gleefully eating a heap of scrambled eggs, stopping every so often to offer Gloria a bite which she took with a big thank you and a kiss on her finger.

"My two favorite girls," he greeted, hanging up his car keys on the hook by the door. Walking over to the table, he bent to give both of them a kiss. "Hey, sweetheart," he ruffled Lea's curls in response to her enthusiastic, "Daddy!"

"Hello, honey. Would you like some breakfast? I made eggs and bacon."

"I already ate," Bradley replied, "but thank you. I'm gonna get ready for work. And you, little lady," he chucked Lea lightly under the chin, eliciting a giggle, "have to get ready for school."

"Well, she's good to go."Gloria smiled at her granddaughter. "She picked out the outfit all by herself and she got dressed, with just a little help from Nonna, isn't that right, Lea?"

The little girl grinned. "I am so beautiful, Daddy!" She proclaimed through a mouthful of egg.

"You are, my love, but please don't talk with food in your mouth."

"Sorry."

He kissed her again. "I'll get dressed and we'll get your backpack and lunch ready, alright?"

"At least have a cup of coffee, Bradley," his mother said, sounding slightly odd. She studied him carefully, in a way that only a mother could, tapping her chin in such a manner that he could tell it meant trouble.

"Would you mind pouring me a cup while I get ready?"

"I'll make you one and then maybe we can talk."

Alarm bells sounded off in his head. Her request was definitely foreboding. A "talk" usually meant a lecture or unwarranted advice, and as well-meaning as both were, the mere suggestion was enough to make him groan. It was ridiculous, really. Here he was, a grown man, and he still feared doing something to make his mother angry with him, or far worse, disappointed.

He dressed quickly in his whites, his thoughts drifting to the woman he'd left a half an hour prior. She had risen early, making the breakfast she'd promised; scrambled eggs with feta and fresh spinach, hash, wheat toast, and the richest, most palate pleasing coffee Bradley had ever had. When he'd mentioned how good it was, she had blushed. "I stocked up the last time I was in Italy. It's my favorite."

He hated to leave her, despite her reassurance that she felt fine. Though he knew she'd been coping with her disorder for awhile now, the images of the night before kept replaying in his mind and how much agony she had been in haunted him.

Even after disclosing the things they had to one another, Bradley continued to feel as though he'd perform a massive misstep somewhere, that he would unintentionally stifle her fierce independence...not because he would ever want to or try to but because his relationship with his ex had been toxic and eventually, she made him believe he was shit; totally worthless. It was something years of therapy could not erase and he worried about fucking up a healthy relationship, just by being himself.

Emptying his head of the intrusive thoughts, he ran a comb through his hair, brushed his teeth, and prepared to go back into the kitchen to deal with whatever his mother wanted to speak to him about.

It was no surprise when he emerged from the bedroom, she had his coffee at the ready, cream and sugar added, and was waiting for him at the kitchen table. Lea was busy coloring from her spot on the living room couch, a box of Crayola's in front of her on her lap desk.