Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Still. We want you to be happy. So if it’s about us, don’t make it be that.”
Maybe the conversation would have gone on from there, but Alara made her way out of the bathroom with slightly less mussed hair and more open eyes.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“In a trough,” she said, collapsing onto one of the dining chairs. “Thanks for feeding him,” she said as she looked at Tuna.
“Liam walked him once already too. He got up early.”
“Every once in a while, the little jerk wants to be up at the crack of dawn. He usually sleeps in later. Was he with you all night?”
“He refused to be put out,” Liam said.
“He likes to sleep by someone’s feet. What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at Liam.
“He slept tucked behind my legs.”
“You little shit,” she said, shaking her head at her dog. I brought over her coffee and got a Thank you. “So, you cook breakfast, huh?”
“When we don’t do something easy like bagels, yeah.”
“For the record, I’m okay with bagels. You don’t have to cook for me.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Liam, you wanna wake up Char?”
“I can do it,” Alara offered, likely feeling like everyone else was already doing too much.
I don’t know what made me hand the spatula to Liam and follow, but I got into the doorway just as Alara moved a stuffed animal out of her way and sat on the side of Charlotte’s bed.
Her hand went to Char’s hip, and her voice was softer than I’d heard it before when she said, “Time to get up, Charlotte.”
There was some movement. Then, sleepy, small, hopeful, “Mom?”
Fuck.
Alara stiffened.
I went to take a step forward, ready to try to smooth it over, when she spoke.
“No, sweetie. It’s me, Alara,” she said, her tone still coaxing as Charlotte finally rolled over. I was close enough to watch the confusion morph into fresh grief that cracked my heart right down the center. “Oh, sweetie,” Alara murmured as Char’s hands went to her eyes and a choked sound escaped her. “I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand up and down Charlotte’s leg as a sniffle escaped her. “It’s okay to miss your mom.” Charlotte whimpered and nodded. “Do you want a hug? Or I can get your uncle or brother…”
Charlotte folded up, leaning into Alara’s chest and wrapping her arms so tightly around her bruised midsection that I knew it had to hurt. But Alara just wrapped her arms around Charlotte and held her as she cried.
“Do you want to talk about her?”
“Okay,” Charlotte said, still clinging.
“Tell me your favorite memory.”
“My birthday.”
“Which one?”
“Ten.”
My sister had been really stable for a short period that year, taking her meds, getting out of bed, trying to make up for lost time. So she’d gone big on the kids’ birthdays to make up for several years of ones I’d planned to various levels of success.
“What’d you do?”
“We went to the theme park.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun.”
“We rode all the rides over and over until Liam threw up.”
“Not you, though?”
“Nope.” She paused, lingering in the memory. “Mom was happy that day.”
“Yeah, I know she was sad a lot. That must have been hard, huh?” Charlotte nodded.
“I tried to cheer her up.”
She did, too. She was always bringing her mom special treats and gifts. She was forever climbing into bed with her mother and trying to tell her silly stories just to get a smile out of her. She was usually not very successful. But she never stopped trying.
“Of course you did. Because you’re the sweetest kid.” Charlotte sniffed, reaching between them to wipe her eyes. But not wanting to move away yet. “But it’s not your job to cheer up the adults, either,” Alara went on, repeating something I knew Char’s therapist had been saying. “Sometimes those feelings are too heavy for a little girl to carry, y’know? And it doesn’t leave a lot of strength left to hold your own feelings. And those are just as important.”
Charlotte nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Sorry I cried on you.”
“Don’t ever apologize for that. Crying is good. Because if you don’t let yourself cry, you can get really angry. And no one wants that for you.”
I could hear the personal experience in her words.
Like she’d been someone who didn’t let herself cry.
Which made her clinging to me in her bathroom all the more meaningful.
“Is that pancakes?” Charlotte, always able to sniff out a sweet treat, asked.
“It is. Your uncle is making breakfast. Maybe you should go get washed up.”
“Morning, Char,” I said, rubbing her head as she passed me in the doorway.
At the sound of my voice, Alara turned.
“I probably should have let you handle that.”
“No. No, I think it was good that you did. She looks up to you. And she doesn’t really have any women in her life that she looks up to right now. So hearing you tell her that her feelings are valid, and she should cry if she needs to, and that it’s not her job to regulate everyone around her, I think that meant a lot.”