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The story played out in my mind, tearing the rip open wider. Sebastian breaking the news he was leaving. Hearing that he didn’t choose me. That he didn’t choose Priscilla.
I thought I’d be okay if he left. I’d convinced myself I understood what that meant. Maybe if it’d happened at the beginning of the summer, before we’d gotten involved again, it’d be different.
But it was happening now, after getting a taste of what it’d be like to be together, to have a family. To not do this alone anymore. And now he was leaving again for two years.
Worse: he’d decided and didn’t tell me.
I swallowed my tears, reminding myself that I didn’t know that for sure. But my imagination had already convinced me the story I’d made up was real.
It was my worst fear come to life.
I had the time it took me to drive to the farm to master myself. Somehow I packed all my feelings up in a busted box and slapped on a smile.
I walked into chaos.
The kitchen was a mess of boxes and papers and yard signs, and my cousins sat at the table with weary, sleepless faces as Priscilla ran in circles around the kitchen island singing at the top of her lungs with Elvis on her heels.
Poppy nearly shot out of her seat. “There you are. Is Sebastian okay?”
Priscilla skidded to a stop, her face dead serious in a nanosecond. Elvis ran into her, but she didn’t even flinch. “Wasswrong with Daddy?”
Poppy mouthed Sorry.
I wore a tired smile. “Daddy’s fine.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Promise.”
“We can see him later?”
“Maybe, baby.”
That seemed to be enough confirmation—she kicked off running again.
“Has she been like this for long?”
“All morning,” Mom said from the table. “I can’t keep up.”
“Looks like she’s even worn Elvis out.”
His tongue lolled, and he seemed to have lost some steam.
“Cilla, want to go to the park?”
“Yes!” she yelled and ran for me, tackling my legs. She squeezed and made her Hulk face like she was trying to pick me up.
I chuckled and smoothed her hair. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m not crazy. I’m Cilla.”
“My mistake.”
I took her hand and sighed again. I wondered how many times I’d sigh today and figured the number would be too high to bother counting.
“I thought you had work to do,” Daisy said.
“I do, but it doesn’t look like any of us are getting anything done until somebody’s burned off their crazy.”
“Mama! I’m not crazy! I’m Cilla.” She pressed her hand to her chest.
“Okay, okay. Come on, go hop in the truck. Not you.” I pointed at Elvis, who plodded over to Mom and flopped down on his belly for a well-earned nap.
With that, I was out the door again, zoning out while Priscilla talked without breathing. This lasted all the way to the park, and it only stopped because she took off in a dead sprint for the slide the second her flip flops hit the ground.
I dragged myself to a bench and sank into it. Though I hadn’t spent the night in jail, I hadn’t slept but for a few hours, which made everything feel impossible. I felt small, insignificant as I sat on that park bench, thinking about Sebastian leaving us. Thinking about how Priscilla would miss him. Thinking about what it’d be like in this town without Sebastian here.
Wondering how I would survive losing him this time. I’d lost him before, but none had ever been so painful as this.
I was so deep in thought, I didn’t notice Marnie until Priscilla did.
“Hey, lady!” she yelled, jumping off a platform that should have been too high to jump from. But she stuck the landing and took off in Marnie’s direction. “Can I have more candies?”
My face pinched in confusion and consternation, unable to place how the fuck my child knew Marnie.
Marnie laughed, digging around in her purse. “I put a couple of lollipops in here in case I ran into you again.” She held out two in display. “Strawberry or root beer?”
“Yes,” Priscilla said and took both.
I was already on my feet and making my way over to them. “Just take one, Cilla.”
Marnie went cold. “No, it’s okay. She can have both, if it’s okay with you.”
“Tanks!” Priscilla said before taking off for the slides again.
“I … I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I didn’t realize you’d met.”
Something flashed behind her eyes, maybe that she knew something I didn’t. “I ran into Bastian and Cilla a while back. He didn’t tell you?”
“Guess it slipped his mind.”
Strangely, she didn’t hiss like a pit viper or hand me a snide insult. Instead, she looked worried, asking earnestly, “Is he okay? I saw what happened.”
“He’s okay, no thanks to your father.”
Her brow flattened. “Daddy didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly.”
Her eyes flicked to the sky. “God, you people.”
Priscilla shrieked with joy as she flew down the slide with her hands in the air and a sucker in her mouth. Immediately, my bastard imagination pictured her falling on her face and choking to death or puncturing her larynx.
