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A long time ago, I told myself I’d never give another person the opportunity to let me down or destroy me again.
That I’d never rely on someone else, or trust them with my heart or my happiness.
But he made me want to.
He made me want to believe that the hell I’d been through up until this point was purely so I could have that one moment where we met. I wanted to believe that I needed to be thrown out onto the street, treated like trash, and learn to fight for myself and my daughter so I would walk up to that house with my baseball bat.
“I—”
“Mama!” Grace and I both looked back at the playground. It wasn’t far away, and my toddler was running across the grass toward us at the speed of a gazelle, only wearing a pair of jean shorts and no shirt.
The shirt was in Gem’s hand, being waved around frantically as she chased after the tiny human.
When I’d called her this morning asking if she would play with Kadey while I beat the shit out of my feelings, she’d been at my house seven minutes later.
Because that was friendship.
“Kadey! You can’t just strip your clothes off in public,” Gem called, though it was broken up with laughter.
I helped Grace to her feet just before Kadey barreled into me, almost taking out my legs. She held her arms up, shaking them frantically until I finally picked her up and hooked her onto my hip. She turned toward Gem, grinning with triumph. “I won, Gemmy.”
“Well done,” Gem said, rolling her eyes as she pulled to a hard stop, breathing heavily. “Here is your prize.” She held out the shirt, but Kadey simply shook her head, lifting her chin defiantly.
“No. It’s wet.”
“Kadey, you remember Grace?” I cut in, the two of them known to go at it forever before one finally gave in. When I turned to Grace, the smile on my face dropped. “Grace? Are you okay?”
Her eyes were wide and moved between Kadey and me and the building across the road, where a handful of young men stood. They looked like they were in their early teens but were dressed in sharp-looking khakis and button-up shirts in a range of muted, pastel colors that matched Grace’s dress.
“I must go.”
“Is everyth—”
“Yes,” she answered sharply. It was the first time I’d heard anything but soft tones fall from her lips. “Everything is fine. Nice to see you.”
Gem stepped up beside me, and we watched on curiously as she quickly waddled back across the road and ushered the group of boys into a waiting van, not even looking back before she climbed inside herself.
It drove off seconds later, leaving me with a strange, twisting feeling in my gut.
“That was weird,” Gem commented, both of us watching the van as it disappeared around the corner at the intersection.
It was.
“We get my special ice cream now?” Kadey cut in, my child completely unfazed by the strange behavior, probably because ice cream had been promised earlier, and that trumped everything else. She always called it her special ice cream because we’d spoken so often about how the normal kind often had eggs, and could make her feel yucky.
“Yes, but…” I started, placing her on the ground and trying not to laugh as she groaned loudly. “The ice cream shop has a rule that says you have to wear a shirt.”
Her brow pinched together, and she studied me for a few seconds as if trying to decide if I was telling the truth.
She was getting too smart for her own good.
And too smart for my sanity.
“Okay.” She snatched her shirt from Gem’s hands and ran off, heading for the car. “Losers weepers,” she called back over her shoulder.
A saying she’d picked up but had no idea what it meant.
“I’m gonna need one of those ice creams too,” Gem stated, grabbing my helmet from the park bench while I tucked my bat under my arm.
