Reconcile by Nicole Dykes
“Mommy!”
I smile when my daughter leaps into my arms. She’s getting so tall, she nearly comes up to my chest. How the hell did that happen?
I stroke her hair and look down into her chocolate-brown eyes. “Hi, baby. I’m sorry I’m home later than usual.”
She shrugs happily. “It’s okay.” She looks over her shoulder at Angela. “We had fun.”
I sit down on the couch, taking Audrey with me and placing her in my lap, wrapping my arms around her, and say to Angela, “Thank you.”
She nods with a warm smile. “How did it go?”
I told her about Sawyer and his ultimatum. I also was a little fired up when I told her everything and asked her to stay a little later with Audrey tonight so I could go tell him to fuck off.
Of course, I didn’t use those words with Angela. “Better than I expected.” I hug Audrey closer to my body and gaze up at Angela, feeling slightly defeated. “Or worse.”
She purses her lips together, and I know she wants to ask me more but doesn’t with Audrey right here. “I’m sure whatever you decided will be what’s best, dear.”
I really hope she’s right.
“I’ll call you later so we can talk about it, if that’s okay?”
She answers with a heartwarming smile and a shoulder squeeze. “You can call me anytime.” Anxiety rolls through me. I finally have someone who resembles a mother, and I’m leaving her behind.
“Thank you.” I want to say so much more. That I’m afraid I’m screwing it all up. That I’m afraid Sawyer is going to hurt me again, but this time, he’ll hurt Audrey too. That I’m going to miss her and I know I was lucky to have met her. To tell her I’m sorry that I agreed to move into Sawyer’s house and that Audrey will likely be attending a fancy private school almost an hour away, so there’s no way I could ask her to watch Audrey after school anymore.
Of course, I can’t say any of those things right now, and instead, we just say our goodbyes like we do every evening.
“I’m hungry,” Audrey says, squirming off my lap.
I stand up and hold my hand out for her. “How about we make dinner then? We have some things we need to talk about while we do.”
She looks curious but then in her adorable little carefree way, just shrugs her shoulders and smiles, agreeing, “Okay. But food too.”
I laugh at that, and we go to the kitchen where I start to prepare dinner. I give her the task of shredding lettuce for a salad and after preparing chicken to bake, I look over the kitchen island at her.
Her big eyes are focused on her task, and her tongue sticks slightly out of her mouth as she concentrates, which always makes me smile. “Audrey?”
She looks up. “What?”
My chest aches with anxiousness. “Do you remember my friend who stopped by the other day?” There’s that bile that creeps up again when I call Sawyer my friend. I think that may be the hardest part of this whole thing.
“Yeah.” She goes back to working on the lettuce.
“Well . . .” Just breathe, Piper. “He has this massive house right near the beach, and he has a problem.”
He has many, so that’s not a lie.
“What problem?” She’s curious now as she looks up at me again.
“His house is too big. And it’s only him there. So he thought maybe we could move in with him and help fill it up.”
Her eyes widen at that, and I have no idea what’s going on in her mind. She’s six. I know, without a doubt, that all the consequences of moving won’t register fully. But she is aware of her world, and I know she can feel a change coming.
“He wants us to go to his house?”
I nod. “Yeah. How do you feel about moving our things into his home for a while?”
She thinks it over because Audrey always thinks things over. “Okay. Is it like this house?”
I smile because my child doesn’t care about things. About fancy houses. And the fact that her room is tiny and barely big enough for her twin bed.
Not yet anyway.
“Well, I haven’t actually seen all of it yet. But it’s bigger. If you don’t like it, though, we’ll find something else, okay?”
She ponders that, and then a determined look comes over her perfect doll-like features. “He needs our help.”
My heart squeezes tightly in my chest because my child is so very kind. “Yes. He does.”
Her smile is nearly blinding. “Okay!”
“Okay.” I wish I could share her enthusiasm.
But everything inside of me is screaming that this is a massive mistake.
