The Little Girl

‘Eimile, wake the fuck up!’ Conor was shouting. ‘Amiyah says Sarah’s at her house!’ ‘What the fuck?’ Eimile’s voice snapped awake. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ The two of them bickered as they got out of bed. Then Eimile snatched her phone. ‘Amiyah? You still there?’ ‘Still here.’ ‘You said Sarah’s at your house.’ ‘Yes.’ She left a hurried demand of ‘Don’t let her go anywhere!’ then hung up. I put my phone back in my pocket, stared at the ceramic pot. The tea was ready, but I wasn’t. Buying time, I poured the tea down the drain, put on the coffeemaker, waited for it to grind the beans and drip out a cup of espresso. Then I made hot cocoa for Mia. I walked out of the kitchen, holding the tray, looking like, well, just like the housekeeper Mia thought I was. The girl was talking rapidly, bubbling over with excitement. ‘Now I have my own daddy! No one can laugh at me anymore. The next time they make fun of me, I’ll show them I’ve got a daddy! Will you come with me to the playground next