Chapter 21
Sparkle
Hildy
Lucy is still vibrating from the whole ordeal as we leave the pediatrician’s office, her energy and excitement growing over her triumph.
I love that even though I’m still at some level in shock, her joy supersedes it.
Her little feet swing out in front of her with each step, determined to keep up with Lenzin’s strides.
She adores him, he makes her feel seen, cared for, and stronger than she ever has felt.
Her steps seem to say I survived, I survived, and nothing’s gonna stop me.
I have all her paperwork clutched in my hands.
Immunization records, forms for the state, forms for the city, forms for the school, and duplicates for me to keep in a safe place.
Lucy is officially cleared for preschool, and I am officially out of excuses for why she shouldn’t go, why I shouldn’t take the semester off because she needs to be looked after and loved, God she deserves all the love in the world.
The terror and relief I feel come at even intervals; they just take turns being louder.
She walks between us as we head to his vehicle, one hand in mine, one hand in Lenzin’s, and it feels like we are the parents on the brochures—three shadows elongated in late winter sunlight, moving in a perfect, illusory line.
Lucy keeps glancing up at each of us, as if to confirm that yes, she’s still flanked, still protected, still protected by two fully grown adults who would do anything to keep her safe.
She does this three, maybe four times before we even reach the vehicle.
“I was brave,” she tells us, again.
“You were,” Lenzin replies, never missing a beat, never letting her statement go unacknowledged. He says it with such depth, such gravity.
At the car, he opens the rear door and, instead of waiting for Lucy to scramble in herself, he picks her up, careful of her arm, careful of her pride, careful of … everything, and settles her into her booster with a precision that borders reverence.
He doesn’t ask if she wants help; he just does it, ensuring the belt is flat against her chest, the shoulder straps properly aligned, and the click of the buckle. He checks it again, gives the whole thing a gentle shake, and when he’s satisfied, he lowers his head, so they are eye-to-eye.
“You did amazing. We are proud of you,” he tells her.
Lucy’s face glows. “We’re proud of you, too, Lenzin Faulker.”
I can’t help but giggle a bit, she flips flops between calling him one or the other and asked me what she should call him while we got ready today.
“Thank you, Schatz,” he closes her door, pauses, hands braced on the top of the door, and looks at me.
His eyes are sharp, as always, but softened by something I can’t name.
Maybe it’s pride, but I suspect it’s more complicated than that.
There’s a whole novel of unsaid things in his stunning brown eyes.
I want to ask him what page he’s on, but now is not the time.
He opens the passenger door, “Let’s do some shopping.”
I don’t have the energy to argue, and Lucy is so … happy.
He gets in, looking just as happy as she is, and again, my energy is at the level where I don’t want to fight it, I want to be as trusting as Lucy is in all of this.
Lenzin climbs in, buckles himself, and glances in the rearview. “Backpack?”
She glances at me, green eyes —my eyes, Mom’s eyes on a clear day— full of excitement. “What color do you hope to find?”
Lucy giggles, hands pressed against her cheeks in delight. “I want rainbows,” she says, then, after a beat, “and axolotl’s. Rainbows and axolotl’s and sparkles and ice hockey.”
“Let’s see what we can find, but that’s axolotl-ing a lot out of one backpack.” He chuckles, and yeah, I laugh, Lucy laughs, and right now I love … us.
The entire time, Lucy keeps up a steady monologue from the back, narrating what she sees outside the window, “brown dog, that car is blue like the sky, look, birds!” Switching to what she plans to do with her future backpack, “Maybe I will put books in it, crayons, pencils…or snacks? Cheese. Can I bring cheese?”
Lenzin humors her at every turn, answering each question with the same solemnity he would use in a boardroom or a locker room. It’s like watching two diplomats negotiate a peace treaty—no detail is too small to be discussed, no dream too ridiculous to be entertained.
“Can I put a cat in it? Will we get a cat one day after my new mom has my baby in her belly?”
I freeze, Lenzin glances at me, then smiles in the mirror back at Lucy, “You’re going to be the best big sister, Schatz.”
“And you’re gonna be the best big Daddy.” She smiles.
“And Hildy is the best Mommy, and do you know what that makes us?” he asks.
“What?” She grins.
And as he says it, I realize his answer is my biggest hope, “The best family.”
I hold my hand to my stomach, and don’t realize it until he places his hand there too.
“You ready meine kleine mama?”
Lucy laughs, “What does that mean?”
Together we say, “My little momma.”
“Does that mean you can be my new daddy too?” Lucy asks, and something inside of me alters; I’m just not sure what yet.
“That’s the plan.” He winks at me and smiles at her.
I get out still in a bit of shock that she knows and wonder why she never said anything. Did she find out at the doctors’? Did someone slip? No, they wouldn’t. Was she afraid to ask me? God, I hope not. I hope she is never afraid to ask me anything.
At the underground entrance to 10 Columbus Circle, he pulls a ticket, rolls smoothly into the garage, and parks with the same precision he brings to everything else. No circling. No scrambling for a spot. Controlled and contained.
I sit there still in a bit of shock as he opens my door, giving me a wide-eyed, yet truly amused WTF look, and I exhale a slow breath. He winks and then moves to open her door.
“Let’s go have some fun, shall we?”
She throws her arms around him, “The best family I ever had.”
I feel exactly what he said, that’s the plan.
On the elevator, he has her on his hip, holds her securely against him, and holds my hand with his other hand. I think of just five months from now and how there will be two more, two… more.
The elevator from the garage opens directly into the mall level, warm lighting replacing the harsh lights from the garage and elevator, and we step out. Nordstrom’s carpet is thick and muted, the air smelling faintly of leather and perfume. It’s polished without being pretentious.
Lenzin sets Lucy on the floor, and she barrels toward the children’s section like she’s on a mission.
“We’d best try to keep up, meine kleine mama.” He pulls me toward her, and I feel the excitement resonating in him that’s much like hers, childlike, and I wish, God, how I wish I could allow myself to do the same.
The wall of backpacks is overwhelming. Glitter. Sequins. Neon explosions.
She grabs the first rainbow one she sees and holds it up like a trophy.
He crouches beside her—actually crouches—bringing himself fully to her level.
“Which one will serve you best, Schatz?” he asks seriously.
“That one.” She points.
“Will it hold the most books?” He asks.
She considers this gravely. “Um, maybe this one?”
“And cats?” he adds.
She gasps. “You can’t put cats in backpacks.”
I laugh as he nods, “Good.”
“Okay, now remember this is something you’ll take with you every time you go to wherever your new school may be. It needs to be practical, but also pretty, just like you.”
Lucy grins as she looks around, studying each.
She looks at me as if to ask if I like the one she’s holding. It’s blue with a glittery rainbow, tiny hearts stitched between clouds, and a heart-shaped front pocket.
“They’re all lovely, Lucy, but as Lenzin said, you have to love it enough to want to take it with you every day.”
“No Axels on any of them, but I think he’d like it.” She turns it around and inspects the back, “He would fit in here, right?”
“I bet he would.” I smile.
Her hugging it is the answer; this is her favorite so far.
“Now, let’s check it out,” Lenzin says, squatting again, and she hands it to him. I already know where he’s going.
He inspects the straps, scrutinizing the stitching and the zippers. “It appears structurally sound, sturdy actually. Great choice.” He stands and holds out his hand for her. “It’s busy in here, so let’s stick together, okay?” She takes his hand and nods. “Sneakers and shoes next.”
She holds his hand, but not mine. She’s still clutching the backpack like it might evaporate if she lets go.
I wonder how many times our mother promised her she could get something, after a particularly bad week, or an entire month of being gone, or just too inebriated to function, only to get to the register and have her card denied, or her not having enough money, and always the embarrassing way she spoke to the cashiers as if it were their fault.
This backpack is expensive, but I have yet to spend her stipend from the agency, we haven’t needed to.
The girls all did so much, and Noelle, she’s given me an amazing opportunity to work from home on her novels.
I’ve been able to buy food and do-little things.
Those little things with her don’t feel little at all, they never were to me either.
The children’s sneaker section is ridiculously adorable. Of course, Lucy makes a beeline for the loudest, brightest shelf, grabs a pink, glittery pair, and holds them up like a trophy, declaring, “These!”
Lenzin crouches down and takes a sneaker from her, turns one in his hands, presses the sole with his thumb, and bends it slightly to test flexibility. He doesn’t laugh at the sparkle. He doesn’t flinch at the glitter he simply asks, “Do they light up?”
“Yes!”
“That seems essential.”
She beams.
“Let’s get your size,” a woman says, walking up to them.
Lucy looks at me. “The perfect size shoe makes for happy feet,” I assure her. “Have a seat so this nice young lady can get yours.”