I tried to reassure her, but she had been beside herself.
“Can they still do that?” She asks.
“To me, or you? No. They’d have to kill me first, baby. But there are people who still do it, and who hurt other people the way they hurt me,” I say and hold my breath and pray she doesn’t ask for specifics.
She brushes her tears away and sits up straight. “We have to stop them, Mom. They can’t do that,” she says, her eyes brighten with anger and for the millionth time, I fall head over heels in love with my daughter.
I pull her into a hug. “No, they can’t. And we will stop them. Or die trying.”
At Last
Regan
“I’m so sorry. But she’s still crying. I can’t leave her like this.”
I hit the little blue arrow and send Stone the very last message I wanted.
I’m despondent, as the three dots populate and disappear half a dozen times, before a response finally pops up.
“I understand. I’ll call you when I’m leaving. And don’t take that dress off…you promised me that privilege, and I plan on collecting.”
Oh, that man…he does things to my heart.
“Mom? Are you almost done?”
At the sound of my daughter’s voice, my heart leaps and nerves assail me. I came into my bathroom to text Stone when it seemed like she wasn’t going to calm down any time soon. Someone reposted that picture of me and Stone on Snapchat and tagged her in it. She was devastated and has been sobbing all night. I had just finished getting dressed when she came to show me the post.
My mother is here, and I know Eva’s going to be fine, but I feel terrible going out when she is so upset.
With one last peek at my reflection, I turn off the light and step out of my closet.
Eva is sitting on my bed, her eyes glued to her phone, her fingers flying.
I smooth the fabric of my dress and clear my throat to get her attention.
Her head whips up, and I’m startled by the wide smile on her face. “Holy cow, Mom. You look amazing.” Her eyes wide with wonder, her grin one of pure delight. She throws her phone onto the mattress, hops down and rushes toward me.
“Really? You sure?” I ask out of habit, but I can see the sincere appreciation in her gaze as she looks me over from head to toe.
“Yes. Stone is going to love it.” She grabs my hands and spins us around.
I force a smile, as I trot, in my precariously high and narrow heels, to keep up with her.
She stops spinning and teeters backward to the bed and flops back, lands spread out like a starfish, her hair framing her face like a halo. I flop down next to her, with as much ease as my skin tight mermaid-style dress will allow. We stare at the ceiling, and I try to catch my breath.
Eva nudges my leg with her toe, and I turn my head to look at her. She’s watching me intently, but the storm has cleared from her eyes, and she’s smiling.
“Are you okay? Ten minutes ago, you couldn’t even speak,” I remind her, with a skeptical smile. I trace a dried trail of tears over her cheeks.
“I was sad because I hate them for trying to hurt you. But I’m so proud of you. You are so strong. I know I’m just eleven, but I see you, and I am so glad you’re my mom.”
Tears sting my eyes. Children love so easily. Even when their parents don’t deserve it. I see now how helpless I was to my grandfather’s whims. It’s not a matter of judgement, we’re wired to crave the approval of our parents.
“Aren’t you worried about what your friends will say?”
She looks at me like I just said something ridiculous. “Mommy, rule number one, remember?”
I laugh out loud, relief and gratitude mingling and swelling into one.
That’s my daughter. “I’m so proud of you,” I say, with a teary smile and pull her into a hug.
“Oh good, you’re finished, Tyson’s on his way.” My mother strides into my bedroom.
I let Eva go and sit up.
“For what?” I ask, as I scoot to the edge of the bed and stand.
“When you said you weren’t going out because she was upset, I intervened.”
“Mother!”
She shrugs. “Good thing I did, no? You still have time.”
“I told Stone I wasn’t coming. I glance at my clock and grimace, he’s probably already there.”