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She nods in agreement. We finish eating with small talk about her week at work and mine as well. She spends some time playing with Sawyer while I wash dishes. When I join her, I realize she still doesn’t seem like her usual self. The light within her does shine a little brighter with Sawyer around, though.
“Do you really think it’s okay that he’ll never have the chance to meet his mother?” Idaline asks out of the blue.
“Yes,” I answer with no hesitation. “Say she lived until she was old and wrinkly. The only way Sawyer would meet Lila is if he snuck behind my back and did it because I wouldn’t allow it. One day, he’ll have to learn the truth about Lila. The hard truth. I’ll show him my scars and tell him about how long I’ve been sober and the struggle that’s been. I would’ve told him straight up that under no circumstances should he meet her because she’s a bad person and unworthy of him. Not to mention, he’ll have you in his life.
“Now that she’s dead, I don’t have to worry about telling him he can’t or that I don’t want him to. What happened, Idaline, is no different than if she died in a car accident. That’s the key word, Idaline. Accident. And if that doesn’t help you, don’t worry about Sawyer and how this will affect him because I’ll handle it. Bottom line, he’ll be fine.”
Her gaze never wavers from Sawyer. She doesn’t say anything, which concerns me, so I hope I can hit it home with one last thing.
“Lila gave birth to him. That’s it. Nothing more. I’m hoping you’ll be his mother.”
Idaline bursts into tears so quickly and violently, she catches Sawyer off guard. He looks at her with wide eyes while I move over to pull her into my arms. She cries long and hard. Sawyer mostly stares at her, not quite sure what to make of things. Eventually he comes over and lean
s against my back while talking and throwing a couple of DaDas and squeals in there.
He does one that’s particularly loud and it makes Idaline laugh. She lifts her head. Her eyes are red and puffy, but she’s always beautiful. I wipe her wet cheeks dry.
“In case I haven’t told you lately, I love you.”
Those are the sweetest words I’ve heard all day. I grin. “I love you too.”
Sawyer makes his way around to my knees. He looks between us as if waiting for us to do something. He slaps my legs a few times, giving me a big cheesy grin. I have no choice but to play with him. Idaline plays with him, too. I think the best medicine for both of us is Sawyer. Hearing his beautiful laugh and seeing him smile can lift even the lowest of spirits.
Later, I ask Idaline, “Do you want to give him his bath?”
Her eyes widen. “I don’t know. He moves around a lot.”
“You have to learn eventually. Come on.”
She slowly follows me. We get his towel, pick out his nighttime clothes, and get the water running for him. Idaline undresses him. She flicks her gaze over to me many times and I can see her worry, but we’ll conquer that. Sawyer gets in the tub. Game over. He splashes water, laughing. I flick some water at him and he loves it, too. It takes about five minutes before Idaline begins to play with him.
When I hand her shampoo, she sighs.
“What if I get it in his eyes?”
“It won’t burn and he’s usually pretty good. I doubt you will.”
She reaches out and begins to lather his hair. My champ of a son loves having his hair washed. He tilts his hair back and grins at her. Idaline laughs.
“You like taking a bath?” she asks.
He baby talks back to her.
They both make it through bath time just fine, though Idaline scares herself when Sawyer slips and slides a few times while she washes his body. I have to remind her he’s fine, and Sawyer kind of does the same thing because he laughs nearly the entire time.
Once I put Sawyer to bed, I find Idaline in my bed. It’s early, but I join her. She snuggles up to my side and rests her head on my shoulder.
“How are you doing?” I can’t help but ask.
“I feel a little bit better than before I came.” My hand slides down to her ass, not with any outright sexual intentions, but just to move my hand and continuously touch her somewhere. Before I can say anything, she says, “Not tonight, FC. I’m not feeling that great.”
“I only want to hold you. I’m glad you feel better.”
“Will you just hold me until I fall asleep?”
“Of course, love.”
I hold her as close as I can. There’s something she wants from me. From me holding her. She’s clutching my shirt as if she might fall out of my arms at any second. Or as if she wants to make sure I don’t go anywhere but where I am. It takes almost an hour before her body relaxes, her breathing evens, and her fists loosen.
