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"Don't cry, Tinkerbelle."
She covers her face with her hands and groans in frustration. "God, everything is so screwed up."
"Talk to me."
She shakes her head, her sadness brightening the gold in her eyes. "Something horrible happened to my dad," she says quietly.
If there is one thing I've learned, it is to be patient with her. I never push her for answers. I let her come to me when she's ready.
Scar tells me what happened between her father and Tiffany. I can't help but feel disgusted as I jerk my chin back. We sit in silence for a few tense seconds until Scar breaks it by whispering, "Thank you for listening."
I reply, "You know I'll always be here for you. You once told me I was the only boy who held your heart. I hope that’s still true."
She nods in response, and I wait to hear what she'll say next. Her lips curve into a gentle smile when she utters, "Only one boy in my life holds my heart now; he calls me Mom."
The words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt a mix of emotions—happiness for her and sadness for myself.
I take a deep breath and ask hesitantly, "Can you still make room for me?" I feel vulnerable, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for her answer.
Scar looks at me with a mixture of compassion and understanding, and I can tell she's carefully considering her response. After what feels like an eternity, she speaks. "Yeah, I can."
I feel a weight lift from my chest, and I know that no matter what happens, I'll always have a special place in her heart.
FORTY-ONE
SCAR
"You look really pretty, Mom," my reason for living says.
My heart slowly repairs itself with his words.
I glance over my shoulder and smile. Shaun is lying on his stomach on my bed with his little fists under his chin.
"Thank you, baby." I grab my purse and start walking towards him, he swiftly jumps off the bed and reaches for my hand, holding it tightly in his. We leave the room and walk down the stairs while Shaun swings our arms. When we reach the last step, we hear Mom humming.
"Hi, Nana!" Shaun skips toward her and bumps into the back of her legs.
Mom laughs and sets the spatula on the stove. She bends down and picks him up. "Hi, sweetheart. Did you wake up early to send a little good luck to your mamma before she goes to work?" She kisses his cheek.
He slowly nods. "Mom is really nervous," he says in a whisper, like he's telling a secret.
"Oh, yeah?" Mom looks up at me while I set my purse on the table. "Well, your mamma has nothing to be nervous about. She's got this." She winks at me.
Shaun wiggles free from her hold and sits at the table. Mom plops a pancake on a plate and sets it before him. I ruffle his hair as I walk by toward the fridge. I grab a jug of orange juice.
"How are you doing, honey?" Mom asks in a low voice and glances at Shaun, who's too engrossed in his pancake to pay attention to us.
"I'm good." I reach for a plastic cup from the cupboard and pour the juice into it.
"It's okay if you're not, sweetheart. You were given a lot of information the other day. I want to make sure that you’re—"
"Not going to freak out?" I say sarcastically, cutting her off with a smile and setting the cup of juice in front of Shaun.
"Thanks, Mom." He looks up at me with a mouthful of pancake.
I chuckle. "You're welcome."
"No," she drawls. "I wanted to make sure you are not on emotion overload."
