Chapter 33: Reading is Fun-damental

After a couple of relaxing hours, Sophie reluctantly strapped on her work outfit, and they loaded into her Ford Fusion. When they reached the restaurant, Roberto was taken aback. It was a squat, glowering black concrete slab, with flickering electric sconces beside the entrance doors. “You cook in a funeral home?” he asked. “Just about,” she replied.

Roberto stifled his reaction long enough for Sophie’s goodbye kiss and her cuddle with Carrie. “Be good.” She squared her shoulders and strode off with her purse. Once she was inside, he shifted into gear, and they returned to Sophie’s house.

“It’s so warm today, Carrie. Let’s get the sprinkler out.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see. Go put on your swimsuit.”

She reappeared in a shocking green tiny one-piece tank. “Now what?”

He put the device out in the backyard, set to oscillate. “Run!” She scrambled around the yard, shrieking when the sprays caught her. He watched carefully, and when she started to tire he stopped the water and let her into his lap for a cuddle and cool down. He looked down and pushed back a strand of hair from her little face. These were new feelings for him, nurturing and protective.

Carrie abruptly stood, demanding “More!” Hydropower restored, the hose twitched, and the sprinkler spat for another round of watery escapes. A game Carrie was adroitly managing to lose on every wet sweep of the sprinkler arm.

Later, back inside, he sent her to towel off and get her clothes back on while he changed to a dry shirt. “Come read with me, Carrie.”

“I can’t read, I’m only four.”

“You’re old enough. I’ll prove it. What does this mean?” He held up four fingers.

“It means, four.”

He had a notepad and a pencil. He sketched a pony. “What does this mean?”

“Horsie.”

“See, you’re four, not dumb. Letters are sounds, and sounds make things, words. Here’s a word for you, darlin.’ CA, that’s ‘cah.’ RR, that’s ‘urr.’ IE, that’s ‘ee.’ It spells CARRIE. Who is Carrie?”

“That’s ME! I want to do it!”

He passed her the pencil. Underneath, she added a wobbly but legible “ϽARRIE.” “Wait.” This time, she got it. “CARRIE” was her next try.

“Perfect! Can you do it again?” He flipped over a clean sheet.

“CARRIE” “See how smart you are?”

He put aside the notepad and retrieved The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Suess.

“‘CA’ that’s ‘cah’—remember?”

“Duh.”

“This is a ‘T’ for ‘tuh.’ So this is a cat. That’s an ‘H’ for ‘huh.’ So it’s a cat in a hat, like the picture, naturally.”

“OK.”

“You’re starting to read, sweetie.” Carrie just beamed. “Let’s read this book together.”

As they read, his finger traced along, reinforcing the relationship between the printed words and the pictures and sounds. Carrie was soaking it up like a sponge.

Afterwards, he put her down for a nap. In the basement, he changed the furnace filter and cleared away the clutter. Old cans of paint went out to the back yard for safety. He regarded the broken clothes washer, sardonically. “If you were working, I would not have met Sophie. Maybe I can fix you.” He pulled on the knob and the whole mechanism came loose. “Maybe not.”

He pulled the power plug and made sure the taps behind the machine were shut off completely. Back upstairs, he opened all the windows and the front door (the screen door was latched shut), so the little yellow house could completely air out.