27. Chapter 27
27
D ahlia and I are driving home from school. She takes the bus most of the time, because I’m typically off work between the time they get on the bus, and the time she gets home. With all the stops, it takes about a half hour for her to get there, so I always beat her to the drop off spot across the street.
But today was a shockingly smooth one, and I decided to leave early. They didn’t need me there, and I didn’t need to be there. I haven’t been much help as it is in my current state. I have enough energy to be present for my baby girl, and that’s it.
“We can’t hold them anymore because they’re too fast. Jackson was holding the little one yesterday, and it ran out of his hands so fast ! Mrs. Sky had to find it, and it took her forever . She was not happy.”
“I don’t blame her,” I respond. “I’d be pretty grumpy if I had to go chasing down a lizard.”
She laughs at that.
“Yeah, maybe I’d be grumpy too.”
I glance in the rearview mirror to see her attention go out her window, and to the houses we pass. Sometimes I wonder if it bothers her that we don’t have a house. She’s never commented on the fact, or even said much about her dad’s place when he got it. I know it’s not a competition between him and I, but sometimes I still feel like I’m losing.
Until the moments when she jumps into my arms with all the excitement in the world, and I’m reminded that it’s all that really matters. We have a good thing going, my daughter and I. I hope when she grows up, that’s the part she remembers. Not that he had a bigger bedroom to give her.
“Is that Kara?”
My heart stops at that name.
“What do you mean, honey?”
But before she answers, I see her. It’s pouring down rain, and windy to top it all off, and she’s just walking on the side of the road. There isn’t even a sidewalk here, her small frame in dark clothing could be easy to miss. She could easily get hurt.
What is she doing?
I know she won’t be happy to see me. I know I’m heading into battle, and it won’t be easy to convince her to get in.
I just have to try. There’s no other option.
“Are we getting her, mama?”
“Yes, baby girl. It’s not safe for her to be walking in this weather.”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, nodding like she knows just as much as I do. “So not safe.”
I pull over, just ahead of where she’s walking. Every ounce of my focus is latched onto what I can see through my mirror. She freezes when she notices my car in her periphery. I catch the moment she glances up, and realizes just what car it is.
I almost expect her to turn around, and start running in the opposite direction.
My breath catches when she instead starts forward, and only stops again when she’s standing at my passenger door. I almost forget to unlock it, with how caught off guard I feel.
As soon as it clicks, she’s opening the door and plopping herself down into my passenger seat.
My first instinct is to question if this is really happening. I’ve been missing her face, wishing I could see her, let alone be near her for so many weeks now. I think I started to convince myself it would never happen. Yet somehow, she’s right here. I can smell her perfume, despite how drenched she is from the rain. It wasn’t enough to rid her of the musky cherry scent.
I look away from her, hoping to hide the way tears well up in my eyes.
I can’t believe that, of all things, is really making me cry. It’s so ridiculous, but it makes so much sense at the same time.
From the corner of my eye, I watch her pull the door shut. Her fingers go to work angling every vent towards her body, and she turns the heat up to the max without checking to see if that was okay with me. It’s more than okay, because I can hear her teeth chattering, and I know that wrapping her up in my arms isn’t on the table.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a quiet voice. As if speaking too loud might make her realize just who I am, and whose car she’s in.
She doesn’t answer me. Her hands rub together in a desperate attempt to build enough friction to warm them.
“What happened to your car?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer again.
“It’s not safe to walk out there,” Dahlia tells her.
“You’re right. It’s not,” she responds.
I didn’t realize my heart could break anymore that it already was, but hearing her voice does it.
I put the car in drive, and decide I need to be moving. Partially so she can’t run out back into danger, and partially because I need something else to focus on.
But it’s not enough to calm my churning stomach.
“Are you okay?” I try again.
Nothing.
I don’t know what I’m expecting, but I keep going.
“Were you just headed home?”
She nods, and I’m relieved that I get any response at all.
“Why were you walking in the rain?” Dahlia asks the question this time, and I smile. “It’s too cold.”
Kara turns to face her, and the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding rushes out of me.
“You don’t like the rain?”
“No,” Dahlia replies. “Well, actually sometimes I do. It’s just cold when you walk in it.”
“Sometimes being cold is nice. Do you like ice cream?”
“I love ice cream!”
“Ice cream makes you cold.”
“Just my mouth gets cold.”
They go back and forth a bit. Kara tries to find an equivalent to her walking in the rain that Dahlia will relate to. I think it’s hopeless, but I listen.
If she’s not going to talk to me, it’s still nice to hear her.
It’s excruciating, and makes me want to scream, but somehow it’s also just… nice.
“Are you coming to our house again?”
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. I bet to my daughter it feels like just yesterday she was standing in our kitchen, baking with us.
She shakes her head.
“If you come over, my mom will make you cookies.”
“I bet she would.” Her voice is soft.
I would make her cookies if she wanted them. I’d do anything she wanted.
I’m disappointed when our apartment building comes into view. I don’t want to watch her head into her apartment, knowing I can’t follow. I don’t want to keep wondering what she’s up to on the other side of the wall.
Probably homework. She’s always doing homework. I can picture in my head just how it goes. Her hair tucked behind her ears, tapping her pencil against her chin.
Everything hurts all over again, like my previous pain has now been soaked in gasoline and set on fire. We sit in the car for a few minutes after Kara gets out.
“Why are you and Kara sad today?”
I turn towards her and smile again. It is a genuine one. She’s just so observant, and smart, and kind.
“Sometimes adults don’t like to talk about their feelings, even when they really should,” I explain. “If you ever think that you shouldn’t say how you’re feeling, you can always tell me. I’m always here to support you, okay?”
“I’ll always tell you.”
“How are you feeling right now?”
She purses her lips to think.
“Um, I’m bored. Can we play with my toys?”
Sounds like a fun time to me. Although, anything sounds more fun than letting the woman who’s currently walking away from me do it again. I have to get this under control, and move on with my life. It hurts too much to keep wishing things were different.
They will be different. I have too much good in my life, I will not let this pain ruin a second more of it.