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“How are you going to find out?” Then her eyes went wide, as if realization struck, and she instantly came onto her knees, grabbing his shoulders for balance. “Are you going to Boston?” Pushing against him as leverage, she jumped off the bed and grabbed a pen from the desk. “Will you give Mom a note for me?”
“Uh, yeah. Of course.” He wasn’t sure if he was setting Mia up for more disappointment, but he reminded himself he was giving Birdie the benefit of the doubt and had to believe she wouldn’t let him or their daughter down.
Their daughter?
She wasn’t, in reality.
But wasn’t she?
As he waited for Mia to complete what must have been a surging saga, or at least, a heartfelt apology, he couldn’t help but feel the room begin to close in on him. It was like Rachel was there, watching over him. Maybe even judging him.
Did she wonder why he didn’t give her as much fatherly attention as his daughter, who had infiltrated Rachel’s sacred space on the mortal plane? Or was she guiding him, showing him a better way to handle a young girl, not quite a woman, battling hormones, mood swings, and changes to her body that neither he, nor Mia, fully understood.
He closed his eyes to, at the very least, resist the visual reminders of what he had lost when he lost sight of his priorities. When being mayor took precedence over spending time with Rachel. Despite knowing she was hanging out with the wrong kids and causing Bernadette endless sleepless nights.
“Here,” Mia said, jabbing him in the shoulder with what looked to be several Post-it notes stuck together. “Tell her I’m sorry. And I love her. And to please come back.” She began to sniffle, and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her pajama top. “Tell her if she comes back, I’ll be the perfect daughter. I’ll live in Fulsom’s garage with her, never visit my grandparents’ house, and I’ll stop going to church.”
The very opposite of oaths ever promised by any child.
He couldn’t help but smile as Mia looked at him with eyes that mirrored his own, chewing her bottom lip with an expression that was so Birdie, circa 2005, it practically made his heart stop beating.
How could she not be Birdie’s flesh and blood?
As he stood, he bent over to hug her tight and kiss her on the forehead. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Before he could make it to the door, she said, “Dad?”
It would never get old. Hearing Mia calling him Dad made him feel, ironically, warm and safe.
“Yeah?”
“So, I have a question that’s been bugging me since…well…since Mom left.”
“What’s that?”
“Why would you not know you were…doing it…with her sister, Maisie, instead of…you know, Mom?”
Oh, Jesus. And just when he was feeling safe.
He decided sticking to the truth was his only option and what Mia deserved.
“I was drugged. Someone had tampered with my beer.”
Her chin dropped as her eyes went wide. “Come again?”
“Someone put Molly, also known as MDMA, also called Ecstasy—”
“Yeah, I know what Molly is, Dad.”
“Oh, well, okay.”
“I mean, I don’t do drugs. But I know about them.”
“Okay, that’s good. I mean, drugs aren’t good, but it’s good you don’t use them.”
She twisted her lips to the side, waiting for him to get to the point.
“Anyway, I was drugged at a party, and the last person I remember seeing was your mom.”
