Time Will Tell

Pink? No… maybe purple is better…

‘Why is shopping this hard?’ I think as I hold up a pink and purple dress. The purple dress says Princess in pink writing with a little crown hanging from the ‘P’ and the pink dress says Emma in white writing with a heart underneath.

I turn, holding the dresses out to Emma. “Which one do you like more?” I ask.

She just sits there and blinks. I should have known not to expect any more than that from a baby. She smiles at me then and laughs. I shake my head and grin at her.

“Okay, then, I guess you’ll just get both,” I tell her. Good thing it’s my dad’s money.

A woman in the isle looks over at me and smiles. “Is this your baby?” she asks.

I laugh a little. “No, this is my niece,” I answer.

“She’s a beautiful baby,” the woman continues and then stops to stare at me, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Do I know you?” she asks me now.

I think back – too many faces to be sure, but she does look a little familiar now that she’s brought it up.

“I don’t know,” I answer.

“I’m Sarah Roberts,” she introduces herself, holding out her hand.

I shake it. “I’m Teagan Foster,” I tell her.

“Foster?” she asks. “You’re Emile’s daughter?!” she exclaimed.

“Yes ma’am?” I answer, a little confused.

“I haven’t seen you since you were a baby! You look just like your mother,” she smiles at me. “I haven’t talked to her in ages.”

I hate moments like these. What do you say at a time like this?

“I think I’ll give her a call later – have you all over for dinner,” she says, but I’ve heard that tone of voice before – my mother always uses it when she asks me to do something but she has an ulterior motive.

“That sounds great,” I answer. “I’ll see you,” I add, putting the dresses in the cart and walking away.

“You will!” I heard her call back to me.

*************

Ms. Roberts was right. She called my mother that night and made plans for us all to go to dinner, which is where I am now.

We’re all sitting around a table at my mother’s favorite restaurant – Il Faro, a cute little Italian restaurant downtown. I’m sitting next to my mother and across from a really cute guy. My mother is across from Ms. Roberts and my father is at the end closest to her. At the other end of the table is a baby, closest to me and the cute guy.

“This is my son, Noah,” Ms. Roberts gestures to the cute guy – I get to put a name to the face now. “And this is his daughter, Grace.”

I’m sure my jaw only dropped all the way to the table.

He’s too young!

Seriously, he only looks a little older than me! But the proof is written right there in his face – the bags under his eyes… the Cheerio in his hair. I smile.

He meets my eyes and I smile bigger. He gives me a confused look.

“You have a little something in your hair,” I say.

He looks even more confused and reaches up and pulls his fingers through his hair. He’s not even close.

“Come here,” I say, leaning over a little. He looks at me wearily but leans over too. I pull the piece of cereal from his hair and place it on my napkin. “Alright, crisis averted.”

He laughs. “Thanks,”

He looks so tired.

“No problem,” I say. “So how does something like that happen anyway?”

He nodded towards the baby. “She threw them at me.”

I laughed. “I know how that is – Spaghettio’s are worse.” I make a face at him. “I had a bad time trying to get those out of my hair.”

He chuckled. “Have you been thrown up on?”

“Ew. No. I let her mama deal with that.” I grin at him.

“Whose baby is this?” he asks me.

“My sisters,” I answer. “She’s probably the most spoiled little girl in the world.”

“I’ll say,” Ms. Roberts interjects. I blush a little. I hadn’t even realized everyone else was listening – they had been having their own conversation. “You must love that little girl an awful lot to have been buying all of that nice stuff for her.”

I shrug. “She’d been good that day.”

“She can be quite the brat,” my mother sighs.

“All babies can,” Ms. Roberts answers.

“Poor Teagan knows that firsthand – she takes care of Emma more than Kim does,” my father says now – the first thing he’s said since we’ve gotten here… well that I’ve heard anyway.

“So you babysit Emma a lot?” she asks.

“Mom,” Noah warned under his breath.

She ignored him. I looked between the two of them confused. “I hope this doesn’t sound inconsiderate or rude, but we really could use a babysitter. I mean, Noah and I both have jobs, and he has school, and to be honest I haven’t been out of the house in the longest time.”

I look at Noah – after all, it is his baby. He looks embarrassed.

“If you want, I could babysit sometime,” I offer.

“That’s not necessary,” he started, but then cut off, making a face. I’m pretty sure his mom just elbowed him in the side. He sighs. “If you don’t mind… that would be great.”

It’s really a strange thing. He looks defeated and not at all happy about getting a babysitter.

I smile at him, though. “Do you have a phone?” I ask, holding out my hand.

He nods and pulls his cell from his pocket.

I take it from him and put my name into his contacts list under Teagan, Babysitter.

I hand him his phone back. “Well, looks like you’ve got yourself a babysitter.”