Coming back here was harder than I imagined.
Sighing, I sit down on the top step, hugging the bear as I stare out at the neighborhood. It’s strange, you know. I lived here for years. We built a life in this house, found happiness within these walls, loved beneath the sloped, dark roof, and for months after it all fell apart, I yearned to be back here. But stepping inside now, all I feel is the heartache. I feel the void. The violence. The pain.
When I walk the halls, I feel the fear I felt that night, when Kassian showed up at the front door under the cloak of darkness, and I told Sasha to hide. When I step into the kitchen, I feel hands around my throat, squeezing the life out of me, stealing my soul.
It doesn’t feel like home anymore.
“Mommy?”
Sasha’s voice is quiet, guarded, as it rings out behind me in the doorway. I turn my head, looking back at her as she eyes me warily. I didn’t hear her approach. So much unlike the little girl who grew up in this house, who couldn’t ever seem to tiptoe because she danced when she walked. She has always been good at hiding, but she’d learned to sneak around, learning to not make a sound. I can’t even bring myself to dwell on how that came about.
“Hey, sunshine,” I say, giving her a smile. “Somebody else wants to say hello, too.”
Her eyes flicker around, alarmed. “Who?”
I hold up the bear. “This little guy.”
She hasn’t mentioned him, so I’m not sure how she’s going to react. Maybe she won’t care. Maybe Kassian stole that part of her, the part that believed in magic, the part of her that loved her bear like he was real. Maybe she won’t want him. Maybe she’ll be upset. Maybe she’ll think he let her down, because she always believed the damn bear would protect us. Maybe... maybe... maybe... but I hope it isn’t so. I need her to still have some of that innocence she deserves.
She looks at it, her eyes widening, as I hold my breath. It takes her a second before she even reacts at all. “Buster!”
She sprints out onto the porch, snatching the bear from my hand, before flinging herself at me, nearly knocking me down. I laugh as she clings to both me and the bear.
“Mommy, it’s Buster!” she squeals. “He came back!”
“He did.”
“Where did you find him?”
“Right here,” I say. “He was sitting on the porch, waiting for us, this morning when I woke up.”
She smiles, a wide kind of smile. Her whole face lights up. Sitting down beside me on the step, pressing up against me, she studies the bear in her lap. Her fingers run along the messy, dark stitches holding parts of the bear together. “Somebody gave him surgery. They saved him from Daddy!”
I try to keep a straight face, but I grimace. Daddy. The man never deserved that title.
“Or,” I say, nudging her, “maybe Buster saved himself.”
“Maybe,” she agrees, pausing before adding, “but he didn’t give himself his surgery.”
“How do you know?”
She gives me a look, like I’m being ridiculous. “Because he can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t have no thumbs. He only has his paws.”
“Oh.” I glance at the bear. Can’t really argue with that logic. She was always too smart for her own good. “Well, in that case, somebody else certainly gave him surgery, but it looks like he still needs some more work.”
He’s still missing his right eye.
Needs a good scrubbing, too.
He’s filthy.
“Daddy didn’t like Buster,” she says. “He put him in his fire because he said I was being bad, and then I couldn’t have him back until I said I loved him, but then he didn’t even believe me when I did, so I never got him again.”
She frowns, poking her bottom lip out.
I have no idea what to say, how I’m supposed to handle this, how I’m supposed to explain it to her so she’ll understand. I was never exactly equipped to be a mother, but this is so out of my realm of expertise. I’m terrified of messing her up, of her growing up traumatized. I don’t have a little Dr. Phil in my pocket to walk me through these things, so I’m just going to be real with her, because honesty is the best policy, right?
“You didn’t deserve that, sunshine,” I say. “Everything he did, no matter what it was, it wasn’t your fault. You’re not bad, and he shouldn’t have done those things, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“I’m serious,” I tell her. “And you don’t have to call him ‘Daddy.’ You can, if you want, but you don’t have to. You don’t have to call him anything.”
“He told me I have to.”
“I figured, but you don’t.”
“But what if he gets mad?” she asks. “What if he takes Buster away?”
“He won’t,” I say. “I promise.”
“But—”
I gently grasp her chin, tilting her face up. “No buts. He’ll never get mad at you, never take Buster, never show up here again... he’s gone, sunshine. Forever. So you can call him whatever you want, or you can call him nothing at all. It’s okay.”
She stares at me for a moment. “Did he never get his heart or something?”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“Tin Man,” she says. “That’s what he was called. I heard you say he had no heart, like the Tin Man in that movie.”
My stomach sinks. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe he had a heart, but he didn’t show it to me, so I couldn’t see it. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s all over. We won’t have to play Hide & Seek anymore, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, “because I don’t want to play ever.”
“Me, either.” I smile. “What do you want to do?”
She shrugs.
“Come on, there has to be something,” I say. “We’ll get out of this house, just you and me.”
“And Buster, too?”
“And Buster.”
“Can we go eat hot dogs? And ride that big wheel thing? You know, the one that goes whoosh, whoosh, whoosh with the lights and the music?” She holds her hand out, making circles. Ferris wheel. “They have one at that place with the beach...”
Coney Island.
“I, uh... sure. If that’s what you want.”
She nods.
“Well, then... how about we go get dressed and make a day of it?”
She throws herself at me again. “You’re the best, Mommy!”
My stomach is in knots as she gets up and runs into the house. Coney Island isn’t where I’d choose to be, but whatever makes her happy.
Where I’d choose to be, if I had a choice, is at a white house with a picket fence surrounding it… just not this one.
We spend the entire afternoon down in Coney Island, riding rides and playing games and stuffing our faces full of hot dogs and ice cream and cotton candy. She’s glowing, like a weight has been lifted off of her small shoulders, so much my little girl again, carefree and happy. Not broken.
I’m not going to say she’s over it. That’s a lie. She may never get over a lot of what happened, but she’ll learn to live with the memories she can’t forget, because she’s resilient.
She’s definitely my child.
It’s early evening when we stroll through nearby shops, her lugging Buster under her arm in a headlock, as I carry her new little friend—a strange looking rainbow-striped monkey she won shooting clowns with tiny water guns. We end up in a little bookstore, aisles piled high with used books. Sasha stays where I can see her, never leaving my line of sight, as she scours through stacks of children’s books. I pick up a book of fairy tales, flipping through it to see if Sasha might like any of the stories when one catches my eye.
The Juniper Tree.
I know that one.
Well, I remember it, vaguely.
Lorenzo told me the story.
His favorite fairy tale.
Leaning against the shelf, I skim the story, realizing quite quickly Lorenzo did a horrible job of sum
marizing. He stopped midway through, never telling me how it ended. Some stories don’t have happy endings, he’d said.
That lying son of a—
“Mommy?”
I glance up from the book, looking at Sasha. “Yes?”
“Can I have this?” she asks, holding up a book, this one also about fairy tales, but hers has pictures and color and is made by Disney, unlike the crazy shit I’m reading. “Please?”
I probably don’t have to tell you that there’s no way I could ever tell her no right now. No matter what the girl asks for, it’s a resounding ‘hell yeah’. If I can’t afford it, I’ll fucking steal it, but being as the book has a price tag of a dollar, I think we’ll be just fine.
Lorenzo made sure of that.
Lorenzo.
I glance back at the book I’m holding, closing it as I tell her, “Of course you can have it. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I pay for the book I’m holding, as well as Sasha’s, and we head out of the store, making our way back to the boardwalk, strolling along it as I hold her hand.
She’s as happy as can be, as she somehow convinces me to let her take her shoes off and play in the sand (yeah, right... like I’d tell her no, remember?), making a little makeshift campsite as she sets up Buster and Mr. No-Name Monkey and tries to read her book to them.
Newsflash: she’s only five, which means she can’t really read, so she’s just making up some nonsense.
Still better than the bullshit half-story Lorenzo told me.
“Come on, sunshine,” I say as time wears on, wanting out of there before sunset, still not sure how safe it is for us. “Time to get going.”
“Home?” she asks, looking up at me, her expression falling. “Do we have to go home, Mommy?”
I frown. I don’t think she likes being there any more than I do now, the bad overshadowing so many years of good. “Uh, no, not if you don’t want to. Would you rather go somewhere else?”
She nods. “Buster doesn’t like that house so much now.”
“He doesn’t? Why?”
“He didn’t like when you were sleeping in the kitchen.”
Sleeping in the kitchen. “He saw that?”
“Yes, he got scared ‘cuz you didn’t wake up when we tried to wake you.”
“You tried to wake me?”
She nods.
“You came out of your hiding spot that night to try to wake me?”
She nods yet again.
“And that’s how he found you?”
Yet another nod.
“We don’t have to go home,” I tell her, “so tell Buster not to worry. We can go somewhere else.”
“Where?”
I think about that for a moment, looking at Buster, as I pull Sasha to her feet. “How would you like to go meet the person who did Buster’s surgery?”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Really,” I say, picking up Buster. “He’s a friend of mine. He’s not the best at stitching, but he’s got something else going for him.”
“What?”
“Unlike the Tin Man, I know he’s got a heart.”
The sun is setting as I step through the gate of the small picket fence in Queens, leading up to the house. Sasha clings tightly to my hand. I can tell she’s nervous.
Fuck, I’m nervous.
I’ve been putting off coming here, not because I haven’t wanted to. I have. I’ve put it off because I’m not sure he wants me here, and that kind of rejection sucks serious balls. Lorenzo walked away a week ago without even saying goodbye, like he could just easily dismiss me from his life, and Buster showing up on my porch this morning... well, that’s just a cherry on this fucked up sundae I call life. Buster’s presence felt like severing ties.
I don’t accept it.
Stepping up onto the porch, I raise my hand to knock before hesitating, my fist in the air, my gaze drifting to the doorknob. Fuck it. I grab it, turning the knob, finding it unlocked.
Of course. I push the door right open. I’ve never knocked before, and I’m not going to start now.
The moment I step inside, pulling Sasha into the foyer, voices halt, eyes turning toward me. Leo and Melody stand in the living room doorway.
“Morgan!” Melody gasps, lunging right for me as Sasha shifts herself behind me, ducking out of sight. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here!”
“Hey,” I say, patting her back as she clings to me as tightly as Sasha had. “It’s good to see you.”
“Me?” Melody shoves out of the hug, tears brimming her eyes. “Look at you! The last time I saw you, oh god, Morgan... I thought... I mean, I didn’t think you were going to... you’re frickin’ alive! I thought for sure you were dead! I thought that Russian asshole—”
“Mel,” Leo says, cutting her off, coming between us as he pulls his girlfriend away. “Not the time for that, babe. Little ears are listening.”
Melody looks at him with confusion. “Little what?”
“Ears,” he says, diverting her attention as he motions to where Sasha peeks out from behind me.
Melody glances down, her expression shifting, from confusion to shock before jumping right to excitement. No hesitation, she drops to her knees in the foyer, making them eye-level. “Hey there! I’m Melody! What’s your name?”
“Sasha,” she says quietly, stepping out in the open, like she’s decided she likes Melody. Not surprising, since they’re both little firecrackers.
“Sasha,” Melody says. “That’s such a beautiful name!”
“Thank you,” she says. “Mommy gave me it.”
“Your mommy has great taste.”
Leo makes a noise, half-scoff, half-laugh, that draws our attention. He holds his hands up defensively right away. “Hey, I’m not disagreeing. Just imagining my brother’s reaction to that statement.”
Melody rolls her eyes before turning back at Sasha, scanning her, attention settling on Buster clutched under her arm. “Hey, I remember this guy! Bruiser or something, right?”
Sasha laughs, the lighthearted sound warming me. “He’s Buster.”
“Buster,” Melody repeats, moving on to the rainbow monkey. “And who’s this one?”
“He doesn’t have his name yet,” Sasha says. “We just got him today.”
“Huh, he needs a name,” Melody says. “A good one, something as awesome as he is.”
“Leo,” Leo chimes in.
“No,” Melody says, “not happening.”
Leo shrugs it off, as Melody and Sasha chatter back and forth, the attention turning to the book Sasha’s holding. Melody takes it from her, expression lighting up. “Oh, Cinderella, she’s totally my favorite princess!”
“Do you wanna read it?” Sasha asks, her voice a little louder than it had been. “We can!”
“Hell yeah,” Melody says, standing up, holding the book, going pale when she realizes what she said. “Oops.”
“Can Melody read my book, Mommy?” Sasha asks, looking up at me as she tugs my hand. “Please?”
“Of course,” I say, gently pushing her toward Melody. “Go ahead, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
She must trust that, and she must really like Melody, because she grabs her hand and lets her take her into the living room without second-guessing it. I turn to Leo once they’re out of earshot, seeing him grinning as he watches his girlfriend.
“She’s great with kids,” Leo says.
“I see that. You going to give her one of her own soon?”
He laughs incredulously, turning toward me. “Not until we’re married.”
“Strong morals?”
“More like scary ass brother,” he says. “He’d whip my ass if I didn’t do it the right way.”
He probably would, I think.
“Speaking of your scary ass brother,” I say, glancing around, surprised he hasn’t appeared. “Where is he?”
Leo’s expression falls. “Library, I guess.”
“You guess?
”
“Yeah, he, uh...” Leo laces his hands together on top of his head. “He’s pissed off at the world, touchy... twitchy. It’s been pretty unbearable.”
I sigh.
I wish I could say I was surprised.
“He got home last night, and I don’t know... something seemed different,” Leo continues. “I know he’s dealing with a lot, with me moving out and with what happened with you, but he was just next-level whatever, talking about packing up and going back to Florida.”
My stomach drops. “Florida?”
“Yeah, he said he’s got work to do down there, but I don’t know... feels kind of like he’s running, which is very much not Lorenzo.”
Yeah, that’s not Lorenzo at all.
“So, the library, you said?”
I step by him, heading down the hallway.
“Uh, yeah, but he’s not really feeling... hospitable.”
The door is closed. I see that as I approach. Not a stitch of light filters out from the crack beneath it, which means if he’s in there, he’s just sitting in the darkness, all alone. I glance back at Leo, and it’s as if he can read my mind, because he gives me a small smile and points toward the living room, saying, “I’ll keep an eye on our girls.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, barely making a sound, before I turn to the closed library door and take a deep breath.
This time, out of respect, I knock.
There’s no sound inside, no footsteps or voices, not a peep at all, like he isn’t there.
I knock again.
Nothing.
A third knock is again met with silence, which tells me I could knock all night and he wouldn’t answer.
Knocking’s pointless.
So instead, I grab the knob and open the door.
He moves fast, reacting.
Right away, I hear a gun cock.
Within seconds, it’s aimed at my chest from across the room.
I don’t move, just standing in the doorway, staring at him. He’s sitting in his chair, glaring my way, his chest rising and falling harshly, nostrils flaring.
He’s furious.
Shadows cover him. I can barely make him out as darkness shrouds the house, night falling around us. He’s dressed in all black, blending into his surroundings. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, and I don’t know if he’s been sleeping, because he looks every bit the scary ass brother.