23. That’s For Mama
That’s For Mama
Morning comes too soon. The pale blue light from the window has turned golden, the rain gone, the world alive again. Zosia’s voice filters through the crack under the bedroom door, little feet thumping down the hall, a squeal about something on the TV.
I stretch, sore in every possible way one body can make another, and I smile.
I actually brought clothes this time, too.
My scrubs folded in a small bag by the door, toothbrush and toothpaste, even my makeup bag.
I can hear Dominik moving around in the kitchen, mug clinking, kettle hissing, his whistle mixing with the cartoon sounds from the living room.
When I step out, he looks up, hair still damp from a shower, t-shirt clinging to his shoulders.
The smile that spreads across his face is simple, domestic but devastating.
“You’re early,” he says. “I was going to bring you coffee in bed.
Fool you into thinking I'm a gentleman.”
I grin. “You? A gentleman? I’d have to see proof after last night.”
He pours me a mug anyway and gestures toward the table, where Zosia sits on her knees in a chair, already busy coloring. A few stray crayons are rolling dangerously close to the edge.
“I brought some things,” I tell him. “A few clothes, toiletries, so I can get ready here.”
He leans a hip against the counter, watching me over the rim of his coffee cup. “You should start leaving them here,” he says easily. “Then you don’t have to think about it. Stay whenever.”
Something in me stills, the words hanging there heavier than they sound.
I nod, smiling softly. “Okay, I’ll leave the toiletries. I’ll buy new ones on the way home.”
Zosia looks up from her coloring, waving the crayon in triumph. “Auntie Kasia, look! At school yesterday! We made elephants!”
I crouch beside her, “I can tell, you’re a natural artist. The elephants look like they’re having a whole conversation.”
She beams, proud.
Dominik flips a waffle onto her plate. “Eggos this morning, gourmet dining.”
I laugh. “Fancy.”
“No syrup Tatu?!” Zosia announces, picking it up with her hands and munching away.
Dominik shrugs, mock helpless. “That’s how she likes them. I’ve learned not to argue with women.”
He kisses me then, soft, casual, the kind of kiss that belongs to mornings and shared kitchens. It’s unthinking, and for half a second everything feels whole.
Until Zosia blinks at us, her small brow furrowed. “No, Tatu?! That’s for Mama! She’s Auntie!” Her voice cracks at the edges, confusion tightening into hurt. “When is Mama coming home?”
The room freezes.
Dominik goes still, mug halfway to his lips. The color drains from his face. “Hey, kochanie,” he says quickly, crouching beside her chair. “Mama’s just… traveling for work right now. She’ll come to visit again soon, remember?”
Zosia’s lip trembles. “She said she would come before my birthday. It's almost my birthday. ”
“I know,” he says gently, brushing her hair back, trying to smile. “She will, kochanie. She will.”
I stand frozen, useless, the hurt rising in my chest. Dominik’s jaw sets tight when he looks up, guilt, anger, heartbreak all flickering through his eyes. He looks like he’s ready to break something. I reach out, touch his arm, a pressure meant to steady him.
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper.
He nods once, but his eyes stay fixed on Zosia, who’s staring at her plate like it betrayed her.
The rest of the morning moves in slow motion.
Shoes, jackets, backpacks. He helps Zosia with her hair, his movements gentle, practiced.
I wash two mugs just to have something to do.
When everything’s finally loaded into the car, he closes the door harder than he means to.
We stand there for a moment in the driveway, unsure what to say.
The air between us feels fragile, stretched thin by things we can’t fix.
“She barely remembered her,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself. “Then fucking Lena shows up just long enough to make her miss her again.” He kicks at the ground, and I grab his hand, squeezing once, hidden from Zosia’s eyes, hiding what was so easy a moment ago.
Normally, we’d kiss goodbye. Instead, we just look at each other.
“I’ll text you later,” I manage.
He nods, forcing a small smile. “Okay.”
Zosia’s voice pipes up from the back seat, “Bye, Auntie Kasia!”, all brightness again, as if the morning never cracked.
I wave, heart tight, and watch them pull away.
The sound of the car fades down the street, and I stand there alone, sunlight blinding, wondering how something that felt so safe last night can shatter this much in daylight.
By mid-morning, the clinic bustles around me, machines clicking, patients shuffling, Conrad lecturing someone about protocol, and I can’t seem to hear any of it.
Everything inside feels heavy, raw, like I left something vital back in that kitchen with Zosia’s eyes wide and hurt.
I fooled myself, let myself think I could just…
slip into their life, like a missing piece.
The little family unit, warm and soft around the edges.
A man who kissed me in the kitchen, a child who called me Auntie but looked at me like she might someday say something else. What fantasy land was that?
The word Mama isn’t mine. It never will be.
But still… Dominik told Lena to stay away at least partly because of me. Because he thought he was doing the right thing for her in the end. Maybe he shouldn’t have, maybe Zosia needs her, maybe they both do. I’m halfway through writing a referral note when the phone buzzes.
sorry about this morning
how she said it
Maybe you should’ve taken Lena back. What if it's what's best for her? For you?
Maybe we were naive for thinking this would work.
don’t say that or think it. she loves her aunt kasia
and she loves her mama
even if she doesnt deserve it
My throat tightens. I dab at the corner of my eye with the back of my wrist, but the tears still slip free, burning tracks through my foundation. I grab a tissue, furious at myself for crying in the middle of the clinic.
come over tonight
to talk please
I think it’s better if I stay away. I’ll see you at family dinner tomorrow. No kisses, no touching, nothing. Not in front of her.
That look on her face? It broke my heart.
this isn’t fair Zosia is fine now im sure
playing at school like nothing happened
you are family for us
home
I can’t look at it anymore. The screen swims through tears I didn’t feel coming. I set the phone face-down on my desk and press the tissue hard to my eyes, biting back the sob that wants out. The word echoes anyway.
Home.
But that’s the problem, it’s not mine to live in. No matter how much he loves me, no matter how much I care about them both, it still feels like standing in someone else’s doorway, holding my breath, hoping I don’t wake the ghosts.