Chapter 10
Layla
LAYLA
are you busy?
Incoming call from Momma Bear
As a twenty-five-year-old woman, I’m not ashamed to admit that when I see my mom’s name flash across my phone with an incoming call, I sigh in relief.
Emmy is still playing with the dollhouse Kieran bought her, so I swipe my finger across the screen and answer.
My mom doesn’t even give me enough time to say hello before her worried voice rushes down the line.
“Is everything okay? Do you want me to come over and help you?”
Before I can contain it, I snort.
“Everything’s all right, no need to come over. If you meet Emmy, I want Kieran to be here and be okay with it.”
“Of course, of course!” she gushes, the telltale sound of a keyboard clacking coming through in the background. “Kieran said I can come over the next time he has a day off.”
I look down at my phone, my brows furrowing before I bring it back up. “Wait, what?”
“We’ve been texting,” she says as way of explanation. “He’s such a sweetheart. The questions he asks are adorable.”
“I didn’t realize he took me up on my offer.”
“He messaged me yesterday evening.” The clacking continues, her fingers flying across her keyboard.
I’m about to ask why she didn’t tell me my boss texted her, but I’m sidetracked when I realize it’s a Saturday. “Why are you working on the weekend?”
My mom took a job as a virtual assistant when I first fell ill. Every decision from that day onward was made to accommodate my healing process, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay her for that.
She huffs down the line. “I shouldn’t be, but Teddy called me four times saying it was urgent and, well, you know me.”
“Yes, being a people pleaser seems to be a Carson trait.”
“I wish it wasn’t,” she sighs before her voice changes. “Is everything okay with you though? You’re not feeling unwell, are you?”
The last of her words taper off, her worry evident.
I’m not the only one who fears a flare-up.
Putting my mom on speaker, I set the phone on the couch and begin to arrange the furniture in the living room.
Kieran said to wait until he was back but I’m not going to sit around while he’s gone.
He has enough on his plate. Besides, Emmy seems content in moments like this to play on her own.
Kieran’s worried about her and rightfully so, but I’m surprised at how much she’s already settled in.
It’s like she’s relieved to be here, her body finally having a chance to relax.
“I’m just a little nervous is all,” I admit softly, trying not to let Emmy eavesdrop.
“Oh, sweetie, how come?”
Pushing the couch pieces in front of the fireplace, I stand, still shocked I can do this without having a dizzy spell.
I take my phone off speaker and plop down on the now put-together couch.
“Maybe nervous isn’t the right word. Perhaps…
apprehensive? It’s just, this is the first time I’m meeting someone new without being known as the sick girl.
I’m sure Bella told Cindy about Berlin, but it’s so strange to be here setting up and not having to… ”
“Go through torture?”
“Exactly,” I say, playing with the threads of my sweater.
“It feels weird to be…normal? I mean, is this even normal? Or am I going to be bedridden again, back to you helping me put on makeup because my bones ache too much or having to recover for a week after trying to socialize like a human being?” The torrent of words pour from me before I bite my lower lip. “Okay, maybe I am a little anxious.”
“Anxious to be feeling good?” my mom asks softly, carefully.
“Yes,” I admit.
I keep my eyes pinned on Emmy, watching as she plays with a little girl doll and a dog. Probably imagining them as her and Bambi. When they’re in the same room, they’re stuck to each other like glue.
“Sweetie, I think you need to give yourself some grace on these feelings and just let yourself have them. You’ve missed out on so much in life, of course your brain is going to go a little haywire when you start to do the activities that took a toll on your body.
It’s going to take some time adjusting and that’s okay. ”
My mom’s words wrap around my heart like a soothing balm.
“You’re right.” I stand, placing my phone in the crook of my neck and moving onto the coffee table that is strangely sitting by the front door. “I think it will take me a while to get used to it. I mean, I’m carrying a frickin coffee table right now, Mom. A coffee table! And it’s heavy!”
A bubble of laughter comes over the line.
“I’m so happy for you, Layla. Every day I prayed for a miracle like yours, and look at you, not only carrying a coffee table”—she chuckles at that—“but maintaining a job now, too. We never in a million years would have thought you’d be capable of doing so.
” Her voice softens and I can practically hear the smile in it.
“Give yourself some time to get used to this new version of yourself. The woman you are today is completely different to the one who flew to Berlin a year and a half ago.”
I pass the mirror mounted on the wall and stop. “You’re right,” I murmur, catching all the differences. The glow to my skin, the life in my eyes. “I am different.”
Completely and wholly altered from the girl that put on four layers of concealer to hide the bags under her eyes. The girl that bundled herself in several layers because the cold flared up her arthritis symptoms. The girl that constantly canceled on plans and cried herself to sleep.
The strong woman staring back is nothing like the old me.
I wish I could go back and give myself a hug.
“Bella says Cindy is really nice,” I tell her.
“That’s exciting! Possibly a new friend.”
“Yeah, she thinks we’ll get along well.”
She picks up on it before I do, my deeply rooted hesitation, the fear.
“Just be yourself, sweetie. That will always be good enough.”
Exhaling, I give Emmy a big smile as she looks up at me. Like her father, I feel as if she can read every emotion on my face, so I decide to say, “Thanks, Mom. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home tonight.”
“Okay, good luck. I’ll be waiting up for you.”
“You don’t have to,” I’m quick to add.
“Nonsense, I’m excited to hear about it. I didn’t get to wait up for you often when you were growing up, so let me have this.”
Emotion clogs my throat.
This illness didn’t just steal from me. It robbed everyone around me like a greedy burglar.
“Okay, I love you.”
“I love you more.”
She ends the call, her words having warmed my heart and calmed my thoughts. When I smile at Emmy this time, the small dog figurine clutched to her chest, it’s real.
“Do you want to get the house ready for Bambi?”
Her eyes widen before she jumps to her feet, nodding her head so forcefully she almost topples over.
I chuckle at her eagerness as I lead her up the stairs to her room. “First, we have to get dressed. What do you want to wear tonight, Queen Emmy?”
Her little laugh at my nickname melts my heart. I’m quickly realizing Kieran isn’t the only one who will do anything to hear it.
Two hours later and with Emmy’s overseeing—and by overseeing, I mean pointing in directions and clapping—we’ve rearranged the loungeroom to look more like a home and less like a cluttered yard sale.
Now standing in the kitchen, Emmy beside me on a platform contraption Kieran bought for her so she can safely help with cooking, we’re covered in chocolate, the brownie batter splattered more on us than in the baking tray.
I can barely see the pink floral pattern on Emmy’s dress anymore, but all the mess is worth it with the smile she’s sporting, those dimples of hers on full display and incredibly identical to her dad’s.
“We need to make doggie treats next time,” I emphasize as she licks the chocolate frosting off the spoon. “Chocolate is bad for dogs. They can’t eat it, otherwise it’ll make them very sick.”
Emmy looks down at the brownies like they’ve personally killed Bambi.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I try not to laugh. “It’s okay, Emmy, we’ll keep it high on the kitchen bench where she can’t get them.”
“Hello, hello!” I hear Bella call out.
Before I can grab her, Emmy climbs down and under the bar that stops her from falling backwards. She moves like a slippery worm, but right as she frees herself, I scoop her up.
“In here!” I call back to Bella.
Bambi, with her nose to the floor, rounds the corner, her tail thumping a mile a minute. She lets out a little bark as she spots Emmy in my arms and rushes forward, waiting for me to put her best friend down.
Emmy starts wriggling out of my arms, the only time she hates being held—when Bambi is around.
“Emmy, you’re covered in chocolate, darling. You can’t let Bambi lick you,” I try to explain, but she’s not having a bit of it.
I’m trying to stop her from all but leaping to the ground when Bella rounds the corner and throws her head back on a laugh at the state of Kieran’s kitchen and myself.
“I knew you weren’t the best cook but Lil, this is next level,” she gasps out through her fit of laughter.
I look around the kitchen and shake my head. “Don’t even get me started.”
Bella grabs Bambi’s collar and pulls her back, away from the chocolate assault.
Emmy keeps wriggling. “Come on, let’s go get changed. Remember, Bambi could get very sick if she has chocolate. We don’t want that, do we, Emmy?”
She stops suddenly, looking down at Bambi. She shakes her head slowly, finally ceasing her wriggling before pointing upstairs wildly.
“Yes, yes, we’re going. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
In her room, I replace her dress with a cleaner one, a blue version with sunflowers scattered over it. The second I tie the bow at the back, Emmy’s off in a blink.
I trail her down the stairs, finding her and Bambi already playing chase around the living room couch.
“The place looks amazing!” Bella exclaims, gesturing to the space.