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Willow sighed, looking out the window. “Good.”
“You’re not very convincing.”
“Why do you care? Oh, right, you’re paid to care.”
Her snark stung a bit, but Poppy brushed it aside. She could see the hurt in Willow’s eyes, but damn it, she knew it didn’t come from a bad place. “I care because I don’t like seeing people sad. No one pays me for that,” she said casually.
“She’s upset because Mother’s Day is coming, and our mom won’t come for the brunch at school,” Archie said, then grabbed his headset from the pouch in front of him, and put it on, once again distracted by his game.
Poppy ruffled his hair, and wished he hadn’t said that so matter-of-factly. Was his way of dealing with their mom’s absence better or worse than Willow’s?
“Willow, I—”
She lifted her hand, anger oozing from her. “Stop. You don’t have to say that my mom is sick, or that if she could, she’d be with us. I heard that a lot.”
“I was going to say, I understand how upset you must be. It sucks. My mom didn’t bail on me completely, the way yours has, but I had to grow up overnight and take care of my brothers because she drank a lot when she was off work,” she said, a part of her wondering if she should say that to the little girl she watched. But her words must have registered, because Willow’s attitude shifted a bit, her facial features softening, her eyes inquiring, sending her a silent message to keep talking.
They shared a similar story even if it was so vastly different, and she wasn’t sure she could explain why. “Did your dad help?”
“He left after my twin brothers were born, and I was one year old. Some say his leaving triggered my mom’s drinking. But the truth is, it was hard. She worked a lot to pay for the bills, but when she was off she’d drink to cope with everything,” she said, sparing the details of how many times she’d seen a bottle of vodka in her mother’s room at night. Each morning, she’d go into the bedroom, wincing at the empty bottles in the trash can.
“Oh.”
“My point is, sometimes we don’t get the perfect mom we see in movies and read about in books. Sometimes we think our classmates and friends have those moms, and they don’t. But you have to know your father loves you very much, and that’s more than a lot of people have.”
Willow sighed. “He works a lot too.”
“Yes. He has to. But he loves you and he makes sure you’re cared for,” she said. She doubted that Willow ever had to bake her own birthday cake, or hold her brother’s hand during a dentist’s visit, because their mom was still hangover from the day before, and throwing up in the dentist office’s bathroom. She bit her tongue, tasting her bitterness, but willed it away. This wasn’t about her—and wouldn’t do her any good to dig out those memories.
She worried her lip, shifting in her seat like she wondered about those words.
“Why do you care? Dad said you’re only here for two months.”
“Because you’re a cool girl. It’s okay to feel sad about a brunch, but don’t let that ruin your day.” It’s not what your mother would have wanted, she added inwardly, but kept from saying out loud. How could she say that? She didn’t know for sure what kind of mother Darcy had been, despite her addiction issues. She didn’t want to judge the stranger’s motherhood skills based on her mother’s doings. Wouldn’t be fair.
“Okay,” she said, her voice barely audible.
Poppy’s fingers itched, and she wanted to squeeze her hand, but also didn’t want to smother Willow. Their relationship was like a flimsy piece of fabric—if she stretched it too hard, it’d break, and the small progress she made would vanish. Besides, she had to find a way to help Willow without becoming protective over her.
You’re only here for two months, Poppy. Don’t get too attached. Being attached to her brothers delayed her departure from Hope Springs, and if she made the same mistake now, she’d end up with her heart broken.
