AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I laugh. “I’m way over here. I can’t even see that far.”
Smiling, she glances at me. “Good. You’re gonna love it.”
“Is it done yet?”
“Not yet. Are you bugging me because you can’t figure out what to make with your garbage?” she teases.
“Actually, I have some ideas.”
“Is one a hot-air balloon?”
“No. Not even close.”
“A hot-air balloon would be really cool.”
I straighten my eye patch and turn back to my own project. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
An hour later, she screams, “I’m done! Come see!”
Dread builds with every step I take toward her. How am I supposed to react to her memory drawing? Do I pretend to recognize who she drew? Or do I crush her and tell her I have no clue who it is?
As she’s accurately pointed out before, I’m not a good liar.
But what I’m even more scared of is that she’s drawn someone I do remember. Like Brianna. Or my birth parents—who could be dead by now for all I know.
Her smile is brimming with excitement. “Close your eye, Alex, and I’ll hand it to you.”
Funny and very considerate how she said eye and not eyes.
Holding out my hands, I do as she asks. The smooth paper is slid between my fingers.
“Okay, you can look now.”
I do, and my blood instantly goes ice cold. My breath strangles in my throat. The old familiar ache of grief pulses in my chest.
“Did I draw your memory right, Alex? I tried really hard.”
My voice is low and hoarse over the lump in my throat. “You did.” I inhale a deep breath. “You really did, little darlin’.”
Jasper’s blue eyes are staring at me from the paper. His whiskers and ear tufts are exactly as I remember them: soft and fuzzy. I can almost feel his moist black nose coming off the paper to boop against mine.
The realistic accuracy with which she’s drawn my childhood dog is surreal. Breathtaking.
Unreal.
Impossible.
I have exactly one faded picture of Jasper, and it’s been hidden behind my driver’s license in my wallet for years. I don’t even remember the last time I looked at it.
“How did you do this?” I whisper. “How do you know what he looked like?”
She shrugs and starts nibbling on her pretzel sticks. “I can see him.”
“Where? Did you see a picture of him?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
I can’t believe I’m even asking this. “Did you see him in my mind?”
“Sorta. I see him around you. He’s always there.”
“Do you mean he’s like a ghost?”
She pokes a straw into her juice, takes a sip, then quietly says, “We’re all like ghosts. Some of us are just a little bit more.”
Mrs. Rose wasn’t kidding when she said Penny is different.
“You ain’t wrong,” I reply.
“Do you believe me about the memory pictures now?”
I don’t know what to believe. I’m still lost in the drawing, grasping for a logical explanation that I can’t find. Is someone playing a trick on me? Could Penny possibly be psychic? Does she have some kind of magical powers? I don’t believe in that kind of stuff, but yet I’m holding something that defies logic in my hands.
“Please don’t say I’m weird, Alex. Please don’t make me stop coming here.” Tears glisten in the corners of her eyes. “The memory pictures are happy.” Her words start to come out fast and frantic. “They’re just memories that are still here. That’s all. It’s not scary. There’s nothing wrong with me, I—”
“Hey, whoa… don’t cry.”
“I’m not weird or scary, Alex.” She sobs, sucking in sharp breaths. “I’m not…I just like to draw. And I like coming to see you and Cherry.”
“Who told you you’re weird and scary, Penny?”
She rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “Mom and Dad. I heard them say it when they thought I was sleeping.”
Anger and heartache slam through my chest. “Listen to me.” I touch her chin and lift her face up. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not weird or scary. Don’t you ever, ever believe that.”
“Are you sure, Alex?” She sniffles.
“I’m positive. You’re bright and magical and captivating, like a rainbow after a thundershower. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Her red-rimmed eyes widen and search my face. “Really?”
“No lie.”
“And you’ll still be my friend?”
“Damn right I will.”
“Will you always believe me?”
“Always.”
“And you won’t ever forget me?”
“Never.”
“Can I live here?”
That took a quick whiplash turn. “No, little darlin’, you have to live with your parents.”
She pouts. “Why? Why can’t I live where I want to?”
“Someday, when you’re grown up, you can.”
“I think I’m grown up now, though.”
I laugh softly. “All kids think that way. But listen, your parents love you. Parents sometimes just have a hard time understanding their kids.”
“Mine didn’t want me.”
I want to tell her I know exactly how that feels, but I can’t. I can’t because this adorable little girl is nine, and the right thing for me to do is make her feel better, even if it might be bullshit. “Don’t say that.” That’s the bullshit that comes out of my mouth. “I’m sure they wanted you more than anything.”
