XY XX

THE OATMEAL THEORY

"Maman."

"Ça va, c'était bien? [are you okay, did you enjoy yourself?]"

"Oui, c'était bien [yes, it was fun]," Sia replied before dodging her mother and going inside.

"Mark."

The man's eyes darted as he attempted to look behind her. Xenia had the suspicion that her daughter might have said something about her neighbor, which aroused Mark's curiosity.

"Can I come in a minute? I need to talk to you?" Mark said as he passed his hand on the back of his head.

"No."

"Gregory," they heard Sia yell from inside.

The little girl's overjoyed tone made Mark push past Xenia.

"What are you doing?" Xenia yelled and followed Mark's stride to the living room, where he found Sia smiling next at Gregory.

"Ça va, Sia?[how are you, Sia]," the man asked the little girl.

"Oui ça va, tu peux me lire une histoire?[yes, I'm fine. Can you read me a story]" Sia asked. She had become a total fan of Gregory's way of storytelling.

"Sia," Xenia scolded as she imagined how Mark processed the information.

"S'il te plait,[please]," Sia begged and tugged on Gregory's sleeve.

"D'accord," Gregory replied. Xenia noted he never refused one of her daughter's whims. She had nothing to add at that instant.

"Bonsoir,[ good evening]," Mark cut in on the child's conversation, straightening his posture to a more firm stand for which made Xenia feel embarrassed in his stead.

"Bonsoir," Gregory got up to shake Mark's hand, which seemed grounded to its owner's side.

"Eh, Xenia, maybe I should leave," the situation pushed Gregory to bail out, but before Xenia could answer, it was Sia who clung to Gregory's leg.

"Non, lis moi une histoire,[no, read me a story]," the little girl said with insistence.

Sia's words and an apparent affection for Gregory were the last drops that caused the spill. Angered, Mark attacked Xenia, "so this man gets to spend time with my daughter, and I get a weekend a month, huh?"

"Mark, please don't start."

"What you want to stab me every time Sia gets close to Sophia, and this roast beef [some English people call the French Frogs legs and the French call the English roast beef] gets to spend quality time with my kid. Who is he?"

"Listen, Mark," Xenia stopped, "Gregory, can you do me a favor and take Sia to her room, please."

Gregory could tell by their facial expression that Mount Vesuvio was going to erupt again.

"Sure, viens Sia, je vais te lire une histoire, {come on Sia, I'll read you your a story]."

As soon as they were out of sight, Xenia picked up her sentence," Listen, Mark, I don't have to justify myself to you."

"You do, Xenia, when it concerns Sia; I have to know who is around my kid. So who is he?"

"His name is Gregory, and that's all you need to know. My private life is none of your business."

"How long?"

"How long what?" Xenia replied while her head slid in a snake dance.

"Since when you started with him?

Xenia lifted her eyes to the ceiling, "It's none of your business Mark, that's enough, get out."

Xenia didn't care about Mark's assumptions concerning the relationship she had with Gregory, but it astonished her that her Ex believed her to be dating him.

Did they seem to be a couple?

"I want to see Sia next Saturday."

"Mark."

"Hey, Xenia, you know this isn't fair, this man gets to read my daughter's bedtime stories, and I can't even have her sleepover. What kind of ruthless woman are you?"

"Ruthless, look who's talking. You have got the nerve."

XY XX

Xenia's and Mark's voice traveled in the corridor to Sia's room, where the child's face darkened.

"Are you okay, Sia?" Gregory asked.

The little girl didn't reply.

"Why are you sad?"

"I don't like it when mommy and daddy argue. He is always angry because mom doesn't have oatmeal."

"Oatmeal?"

"Yes, mom said dad doesn't live with us because she doesn't have his favorite oatmeal and that she can't make it, but aunt Sophia has the oatmeal he likes."

"I see, so your mom doesn't have oatmeal."

Sia shook her head, "I wish she did so he wouldn't shout."

"You know what, Sia, maybe your mother has the Oatmeal someone else likes."

"Mommy makes a nice oatmeal."

Gregory smiled, "I bet she does."