39. Delia
thirty-nine
Delia
The hum of people walking through the hallways, of the little kids screaming their joy at each other and parents trying to reel them in, was unsettling as I looked for my own kid. Not my kid, but the kid I was responsible for.
I knew which direction she had gone, and I had seen her tutu disappear around a corner. I looked through the glass of a classroom door and saw her little form under a desk. I paused, my heart twisting, and opened the door.
Corinne’s red curls tumbled around her shoulders and hid most of her face. When she saw me come in, she flinched and turned her head farther away from me. “Go away,” she said in a tiny voice, with little conviction.
“Hey,” I whispered, crouching down beside her, my hands gripping the edge of the desk. “I’m sorry that we upset you.”
Corinne peeked up at me with one eye, hesitant, before burying her face into her arms again. “I just… I miss my mom,” she said finally, her voice small and cracked.
A pang of sadness cut through me. I hadn’t expected that. I expected her to say she didn’t want to share her dad, but this was something else, something deeper.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and sat down completely, making the desk rattle and clang as I did.
I hesitated for just a moment before reaching out and gently rubbing her back. “That’s okay. You’re allowed to miss her. Missing her is a part of your love for her.”
After a long pause, she let out a shaky breath. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like everyone’s forgetting her,” she admitted quietly. “Even Daddy. He never talks about her anymore. And now… now you’re gonna have a baby, and the baby’s gonna have a mom.”
Her words hit me square in the chest, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. My heart ached for her, for the little girl who had lost her mother far too young and was still trying to figure out her place in a world that didn’t feel fair. I kept my hand on her back, letting her know I was still there.
“I promise your daddy didn’t forget about her. He talks about her to me.”
“Well, he doesn’t with me.”
“Mmm. I’ll have to remind him to do that, then. I’m not trying to replace her, Corinne,” I said softly, my voice careful and measured. “No one could ever do that. But I could do my best to feel like a mom.”
She was quiet for a second, and I didn’t push her. I just stayed next to her, waiting for her to be ready to share. “Like how?” she asked quietly.
I exhaled slowly, a tiny glimmer of relief in the distance. “Well, I could cook and take you shopping, and we could talk about boys. You can’t do that with your dad, right?”
A small smile tugged at her lips, and she sat up, coming out from hiding under the desk. “Right,” she agreed quietly.
“And you know what a new baby means? It means you’ll have a special relationship with them that no one else in the family would. Because you’d be a big sister.”
She gasped, as though it hadn’t occurred to her before. “I’d be a big sister,” she repeated, her voice filled with awe.
“Yeah, neither of us gets to be a big sister,” I said, my voice rising as I saw her excitement. “And you know what? That’s a really big deal. Your little brother or sister is going to look up to you so much.”
She frowned, her little nose wrinkling. “But what if I’m not good at it?”
I blinked, surprised. “Not good at what?”
“Being a sister,” she whispered. “What if I mess it up?”
I reached for her hand, folding her small fingers into mine and then setting them onto my stomach so she could feel the hard ridges where feet sometimes pressed against it.
“Sometimes you will. Everyone messes up sometimes. But sometimes you’ll be really nervous and then surprise yourself by being amazing. Like tonight.”
Corinne looked at my stomach with her mouth open, then looked up at me uncertainly. “What if I mostly mess up?”
I shook my head. “Oh, you won’t. Because you’re kind and brave, and you care about the people you love. That’s what makes someone a good big sister. And you already have all of that.”
She sniffled, considering my words. “You really think so?”
“I do. And you know what? We could decorate the baby’s room together and pick out clothes, and maybe you could even help pick out a name.”
Corinne sat up a little straighter, brushing her curls out of her face. She looked a little softer, a little more curious. “Could his name be Benny if he’s a boy?”
I smiled at her and said, “Sure, Benny’s a good name.”
She giggled softly, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Okay,” she said, sounding a little steadier now. “What kind of stuff does a baby need?”
For the next half hour, we stayed sprawled out on the classroom floor, in the middle of the carpet that she sat on every day, and we talked about what colors the baby’s room could be and what the baby would need. How the baby could have walls with polka dots or a zoo mural, and the baby could have a wall of shelving with stuffed animals, and she could even share the stuffed animals if she wanted.
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and it was hard to imagine that just two months ago, I’d been terrified for this baby, thinking that it would ruin everything for Robert.
For a little while, I forgot all about my nerves and fears. She was a bright light, and I could see so much of Robert in her—the fierce determination, the gentleness behind her eyes.
Just as we were finishing up, I heard the sound of the door opening. My stomach flipped, and Corinne sprang up from our spot on the floor.
“Daddy!” She hugged him around the middle, and he gave me a tense look over her head. He closed his eyes and melted into her hug while she told him all about her ideas for the baby’s room.
I could see the way he set aside whatever had happened with Jeremy so that she could have her moment. He took her hand and mine, and we walked out of the room, and I had this feeling that filled me like sunlight.
Maybe this was what family felt like. Helping each other. Emboldened by the thought, I glanced at Robert and asked, “Hey, I think I could use your help after all. With my hours. If you’re still offering, that is.”
He looked surprised, but a smile spread across his face. “Of course I’m still offering. I’m always still offering.”
“Thank you. But let’s talk about it later. Tonight is about Corinne and getting her the most delicious dessert a big sister could have.”
Corinne beamed up at me, and I beamed back. Nothing I was dealing with felt as big with these two by my side.