“No.” It was like the final tether that had been holding her together snapped, and she gasped a loud sob, hands shooting to her mouth as though she could put it back in.
I grabbed her and held her to me. I rubbed her back in circles as she trembled in my arms. Joey left. “It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not. It’s not.” She gasped between sobs. “I didn’t think I could cry anymore about this. But I can’t stop.”
Nothing I could say would possibly make right the devastation Joey’s actions caused. I could hold Frankie. I could be here. I let her sob for a while, as she had done for me only a few short hours ago. Eventually, her breaths steadied.
She leaned back, wiping at her face. I handed her a tissue. “Thank you.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I caught her trying to sneak away. In the middle of the night.”
I sucked in a breath and let it out steady. She blew her nose.
She tossed her hand up. “You can say it. She’s awful and a coward. I’m done defending her. I’m done hoping she’ll change. I’ll never forgive her for this.” The vehemence in her voice was something I’d never seen from her. I was glad to see her angry. Anger felt easier somehow than the crushing pain of abandonment.
“I pity her,” I said eventually.
Frankie looked up at me, confused.
“Imagine being so self-centered that you can’t even see the gift right in front of you,” I explained, voice rough.
Her chin trembled, and she nodded. “She’s missing it all. Collette changes every single day. And it’s all so amazing and scary and impressive. You know?” She dabbed at her eyes with the fresh tissue I handed her.
I nodded, throat tight. Even in the few weeks I’d been here, Collette’s mini phases and preferences changed daily. “Remember how she said scrumptious about every single thing she ate for five straight days?” I asked.
She laughed and wiped her eyes. “Sometimes I look at Collette, and I’m just in awe. She’s this whole person. She was a baby, and now she has thoughts, feelings, and opinions.”
“So many opinions,” I said, and she laughed.
“I don’t understand her. I really don’t,” she said, and we both understood she was referring to Joey.
“I don’t either,” I said.
Frankie finally sat on the edge of the bed, and I moved to sit next to her. She hadn’t made a comment about me being only in my pants, so I wasn’t about to draw attention to it, as distracted as she was. As much as I enjoyed my fantasy, having her come to me in search of solace felt all the more rewarding.
“She’s missing all the magic of these early years. It’s going so fast.” She balled the tissues into her hand on her lap. “And I get that it’s hard. I know I couldn’t handle it either, but she isn’t even trying. She doesn’t even try. Just stay.Stay. It’s the easiest thing you could do.”
She broke again and collapsed into herself, head down, looking like a lost child.
I scooped her up in my arms as she shivered with silent sobs. I grabbed the duvet and cocooned us both into it.
“It’s the easiest thing a mother can do for her daughter. Just be there,” she said out loud, but I knew she wasn’t really asking me. There was no answer. No explanation. “Don’t they understand how easy it is to stay?”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“How could anybody leave their own child?” She moaned.
My heart was absolutely shattered for this woman. For the child that she once was. For all the unshared burdens she carried.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Collette loves her so much. You saw her when Joey showed up. How simple it is to make her happy.” She sat up and looked at me questioningly. “How can I possibly explain this to her? She will be devastated.”
I wiped a tear from her cheek. “Collette is an incredibly loved child. She’s resilient.”
“She shouldn’t have to be. Nothing in the world should ever cause her pain. Is that too much to ask?”
