(Scarlett’s POV)
The drive home passes in a blur of tears. I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ache, but I can’t seem to loosen my hold. In the backseat, Lily sits quietly, clutching the torn photo of James teaching me to ride a
bike.
She hasn’t said a word since we left the house. I think she knows what’s going on in that weird way kids
sense when something’s wrong.
When we finally reach our apartment, I sit in the car for a moment, staring into space.
“Mama? Are you going to cry?”
I turn to look at her in the backseat. Her dark eyes–so much like Jasper’s–are wide with concern that no
four–year–old should have to carry.
“No, baby. Mama’s not going to cry.” I lie, and will it to be true. For her. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
We carry the boxes upstairs together, Lily insisting on helping even though the smallest one is almost too heavy for her little arms. Once inside, I set them by the couch and sink down beside them, suddenly
exhausted.
“Mama, look.” Lily climbs onto the couch next to me, holding up a photo she must have grabbed from one of the boxes. It’s me at maybe six years old, gap–toothed grin wide as I hug a stuffed elephant. “You were little
like me.”
“Yes, I was.”
“Were you happy?”
The question catches me off guard. I study the photo, trying to remember that moment. I think it was New
Year’s eve. ir had spent weeks looking for that elephant after I mentioned wanting one just once.
“I was very happy.”
“I’m happy too.” Lily sets the photo carefully on the coffee table and scoots closer to me. “Don’t be sad about the pictures getting thrown away, Mama. We can take new happy pictures.”
Something in my chest loosens at her words.
“You’re right, sweetheart. We can make new pictures.”
She beams at that, then scrambles off the couch to rummage through her toy box. A minuteter, she’s back
with her crayons and a coloring book.
“Here. We can color together. It always makes me feel better when I’m sad.”
So we color. Lily chatters about her day, about the nice man who helped us get the pictures, about how pretty
the flowers were in front of the house. She doesn’t mention Virginia or James or ir. She doesn’t ask why our family threw our memories away.
She just colors and talks and slowly, gradually, the knot in my chest begins to ease.
By the time we’ve finished three pictures, I can breathe again. By the time we’ve made dinner together–Lily
insisting on stirring the pasta–I can almost smile.
“Mama,” she says as we sit down to eat. “I like Uncle Dorian.”
The statementes out of nowhere, making me pause with my fork halfway to my mouth.
“You do?”
“Uh–huh. He’s nice to us. And he makes you smile.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Does he?”
“Yes. You smile different when he’s around. Like…” She scrunches up her face, thinking. “Like when we eat ice
cream for breakfast.”
I can’t help butugh at that. “I don’t let you eat ice cream for breakfast.”
“But if you did, that’s how you’d smile.”
“Would you like to see Uncle Dorian’s house?” I ask carefully.
Her eyes go wide. “Can we?”
“Maybe. It’s a big house with lots of family. His grandmother Elena is there, and his aunts and uncles. They’re all very kind.”
“Like a real family?”
The question hits me square in the chest. “Yes, baby. Like a real family.”
“Can we go tomorrow?”
I study her face, seeing the hope there. The longing for something I’ve never been able to give her. A big,
warm family.
“Would you want that? To be around more family?”
She nods so hard her curls bounce. “Yes, Mama. I want lots of family.”
My heart breaks and mends at the same time. I’ve been so focused on protecting us from more hurt that I never considered what I might be depriving her of. What I might be depriving myself of.
“Okay,” I whisper. “We’ll go see Uncle Dorian’s family.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Sheunches herself at me, wrapping her small arms around my neck. “Thank you, Mama. I love you so
much.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything.”
That night, after Lily falls asleep, I/sit on my bed staring at my phone. Dorian’s number is right there. One call,
and I could take that step. Stop being afraid. Stop letting the past dictate our future.
I don’t want to wait on others‘ love anymore. Don’t want Lily to grow up thinking this–just the two of us against the world–is all there is. She deserves more. We both deserve more.
Before I can lose my nerve, 1 hit call.
“Scarlett?” Dorian’s voice is warm, surprised. “Is everything okay?”
“Hi. Sorry for calling sote. I was wondering…” I take a breath. “Would it be okay if Lily and I came to visit tomorrow?”
Of course. I’d love that.”
“Dorian? What we talked about. About making this real. I think… I think I’d like to try.”
“Scarlett, are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured-”
“I’m sure. Or at least, I’m sure I want to try.”
Heughs, the sound rich and warm. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all week. What time should I expect you?”
“After lunch? Around two?”
“Perfect. I’ll tell Elena. She’s going to be thrilled.”
After we hang up, I feel something I haven’t felt in years.
Restlessness. Anticipation.
Hope.
The next afternoon, I dress Lily in her favorite yellow dress and braid flowers into her hair. She insists on bringing a drawing she made for Dorian–our family as stick figures under a rainbow.
The drive to Dorian’s takes us through the same exclusive neighborhood where we found our memories in a
dumpster yesterday. I try not to think about it, focusing instead on Lily’s excited chatter about all the things
she wants to show Dorian.
But when we turn onto Dorian’s street, my breath catches.
Moving trucks. Just like yesterday, but these are parked next door to Dorian’s house. Workers are carrying furniture up the steps of the modern mansion beside his.
And directing them, clipboard in hand, is Jasper. <fn267f> ?? ??? ???? ?? ???? ???? ???????s, ????s? ??s?? find·novel</fn267f>
My heart stops. Of all the houses in this city, Virginia chose the one right next to Dorian’s. How can there be
such a coincidence?
“Mama, look! There’s Daddy!”
Lily’s excited voice cuts through my shock. I nce in the rearview mirror and see her pressed against the
window, waving.
Jasper looks up at the sound of our car, his eyes finding mine through the windshield. For a moment, we just stare at each other. I can’t exin the feeling, but it’s as if time itself stops, and the surroundings fade to the
background, leaving only him and me.
Then he takes a step toward us, and everything starts moving again.
“Mama, can we go say hi to Daddy?”
“Not today, sweetheart.” I park quickly and jump out, rushing to unbuckle her before Jasper can reach us.
“We’re here to see Uncle Dorian, remember?<b>” </b>
“But Daddy’s right there-”
425 Paints
“Come on.” I take her hand and hurry toward Dorian’s front door, not looking back even when I feel Jasper’s eyes on my back. “Dorian’s waiting.”
“But Mama, why can’t we say hi?”
The hurt in her voice makes my chest tight. How do I exin to her I don’t want to face her daddy anymore? We’ve reached a point in our rtionship where now even looking at each other’s faces is torture.
The door opens before we even ring the bell, Elena appearing with a bright smile that falters slightly when
she sees my face.
“Scarlett, dear. Is everything alright?”
I force a smile, lifting Lily into my arms. “Everything’s fine. Someone’s very excited to see you.”
“Oh? And who might this little cutie be?”
“Hi Grandma! I’m Lily!” Lily squeals, reaching for her.
Elena takes her easily, but her eyes stay on me. “Don’t stand on ceremony, dear. Make yourself at home. Dorian’s in his office, but he’ll be down in a moment.”
As we step inside, I nce back once. Jasper is still standing by the moving truck, his gaze locked on us. Even from here, I see the anger in his posture, the way he leans toward the house like he wants to follow.
I turn and m the door firmly behind us.
Violet Moon
”
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