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Princess is just waging guerilla warfare to make that happen sooner rather than later.
“Good girl,” I coo to my new best friend, who wags her tail at the praise and nuzzles my leg as we return to the living room.
We rejoin Willow on the couch, where we’ve been reading stories for the better part of an hour. I’ve been trying to keep spirits and hopes up, but it’s easy to see how sad my baby girl is now that we’re…
Well, not “home.” Just “back.”
“Does Demyen hate me?” Willow suddenly asks.
“What?” I pull her onto my lap and curl her into my arms. “No! No, honey. Demyenlovesyou. You’re his little girl, his little cub.”
“Then why did he want to get rid of me?”
“Who said that?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs and slumps into my arms. “His daddy said he doesn’t have time for little girls like me. And I needed to go back to myrealdaddy.”
I stifle the angry gasp.Of fucking course he did.
“Mommy?” Willow turns to peer up at me, her lashes wet with unshed tears. “I don’t… I don’t like Martin. He’s not my real daddy, is he?”
How do I navigate through what should be a much deeper, more involved conversation? She’s asking heavy questions that even I’m struggling to find answers to.
“Daddies… ” I have to think carefully about my answer. “Okay. So. Do you know where babies come from?”
She scrunches her nose and shakes her head.
Different topic for a different day.“Right. Well… okay.” I take a deep breath and try not to cry when I realize how badly I wish Demyen was here to have this conversation with us. He’d know exactly how to handle it. “It’s really, really easy for two people to make a baby. But?—”
“How easy?”
“Easier than it should be. But it’s not so easy being a mommy or a daddy. That takes a lot of work, a lot of practice, and sometimes… sometimes, people can make babies, but they can’t really be a mommy or a daddy.”
Willow stares at me. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost her.
“What I’m trying to say, baby girl, is…” I think about it. “Martin helped me make you. And that’s an important part of everything, so you do have to behave as a way of saying thank you. But?—”
“But Demyen’s my daddy?”
I smile. I smile more so I don’t cry. It’s only been a day—less than that, technically—and already everything hurts with the reality that we may never see Demyen ever again. “Yes, sweetheart. Demyen’s your daddy. Yourrealdaddy. He loves you, and he wants what’s best for you, and he’ll always make sure you’re safe.”
I know that much to be true. Even if we can never be together, I know Demyen will always have eyes and ears on us to make sure we’re safe. To make sure Willow has everything she needs and I’m at least not nursing any more “sprained ankles.”
“Is he gonna come get us?”
That’s the question of the hour.Is he?
Something deep down, deep where I have to bury my feelings for him in Martin’s presence, says,Of course he is.
Something else right next to that thought reminds me that Demyen Zakrevsky is not a man who admits or accepts defeat so easily. He wouldn’t have invested so much time and energy into keeping us away from Martin just to turn us over without a fight.
“We’ll have to wait and see.” Because if I tell her he is, she may not waste time in telling Martin the same thing. “In the meantime, I need you to be a good girl for Martin. He loves you, too. We don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
Or set off his temper.
The fucked-up thing is, I know he actually does love Willow. My own father is the same way. I don’t know who in their lives damaged them so severely that this seems normal and right to them, but I can’t deny the fact that both Dad and Martin do have genuine feelings for me and for Willow. Just like Oleg loves Demyen.
It’s just not enough to make up for the abuse. No amount of gifts or whispers of love can undo a hand around the throat or a kick to the ribs.
