“Because… you owe me.”
“Why do I owe you?” I ask, entertaining her ludicrous words.
“I gave you Ari.” Wow.
“She wasn’t a toy or a gift. She was a fuc— a child,” I stop myself from cursing. “I don’t owe you anything. Don’t call again,” I tell her then hang up the phone when I see Ari walking to the kitchen.
She perches herself on the seat opposite mine. “Who was that?” she asks.
“No one important,” I tell her, trying to sound calm and collected though inside I’m fuming.
“Was it my mom?” she follows up and for a second I wish she weren’t as smart as she is. I wish she were still young and couldn’t notice her mother’s absence.
I promised myself I would never lie to her, so I nod.
“Is she doing okay?” she asks. Her mother didn’t bother to ask how she was doing and yet that’s the first thing that comes to my six-year old’s mind.
“She’ll be okay,” I tell her. Her parents will bail her out. As long as she does what they want, they’ll always come to her rescue.
“I hope so,” Ari says and I can tell she’s got something on her mind. I bet she has a million questions she can’t really put into words yet. One day, I’m going to have to start answering them.
“You ready for mac and cheese?” I ask her, effectively changing the topic of the conversation and bringing a smile to my daughter’s face.
She nods eagerly. “Mac and cheese and Moana.”
We finish dinner and I throw some popcorn in the microwave. “I’ll be right back!” Ari says, running out of the kitchen.
When the popcorn is ready I head over to the living room preparing myself for the torture to begin. “I’ll start the movie without you,” I yell jokingly, knowing that the moment I say that Ari will magically reappear.
“Not yet, I’m coming!” she shouts from her bedroom.
I search for the movie on Netflix. Seconds later, Ari comes in and the first thing I notice is that she’s not wearing her pajamas anymore.
“What happened to the pajamas?” I ask though I know the answer. I was surprised she was wearing her pajamas in the first place. Friday nights are reserved for Moana and princess dresses.
“I needed to wear this so I can be a princess too,” she says pointing at her dress. She’s wearing a blue dress, like the ones you see on the TV shows, my mom got her and a tiara.
“What are you hiding back there?” I ask when I realize one of her hands is still behind her back.
She gives me a devious smile. “When I was with Grandma, I got you something to wear.”
“Something for me to wear?” I ask, wondering what the two of them could’ve possibly gotten me.
“Yup,” she says, bringing her hands forward. “I got you a tiara of your own!” she announces.
I look at the tiara she holds up to me. “That’s pretty.”
She nods. “It is. I wanted you to wear it so that we can both be princesses.”
I look at the excitement and love in her eyes as I take the tiara from her hands.
Giving it back to her, I lower myself from the couch onto the floor. “You don’t want to wear it?” she asks, taking the tiara back, a pout replacing what was once a smile.
“I think you should put it on me. I don’t want to mess it up. A princess’ crown should never be crooked, right?” I ask and the smile returns. At times like these I feel on top of the world, like I’m doing everything right.
She beams at me. “That’s right! I’ll put it on you and then it’ll be perfect!” she says, placing the tiara on my head.
Standing up from the floor, I twirl. “How does this look?” I ask as I pose for her.
“It looks beautiful!” she says, clapping her hands animatedly.
“Are you ready to watch the movie now?” I ask, realizing that it’s getting late.
“Yes, but you have to keep the tiara on the whole time we watch the movie.”
“I wouldn’t dare take this off,” I tell her.
We press play and start our 100th viewing of Moana. Thirty minutes into the movie Ari falls asleep, like she always does, and I finish watching the movie by myself, tiara still on my head and all. I promised I wouldn’t take it off until the movie ended and I stopped breaking promises long ago.
7
AMARI
I close the door to my house and turn around. I give myself a moment to take in my surroundings. A week ago, I was scared out of my mind about who I may encounter coming back. I was worried about a million different things. I didn’t want to be here.
I did, but I didn’t.
Right now, I watch as the wind picks up slowly and the leaves move along with it. The orange-red of the leaves reminds me of a fall I didn’t get to appreciate much while I was away. Autumn has always been my favorite season and looking at all the trees around me now, I know that it still is. I still had fall, but it’s different here, it’s better.
There’s something about the trees preparing to let go of everything that encourages me to do the same. The trees lose their leaves every year, but they don’t die. They remain standing, and after the cold and snow and rain showers, they grow back their leaves. Every year. Like clockwork. Not allowing themselves to be defeated.
Today, I decide to take a page from Mother Nature’s playbook. I won’t give up. I won’t stand down. I’m going to move forward regardless of what comes my way.
I smile at myself, feeling like I’m genuinely progressing after feeling like I’d been stuck for years.
Looking down at my watch, I realize that it’s time to go. It’s been a week and the work keeps piling up on my desk. Between planning a parent-teacher conference and meeting with all the teachers to see what they need, I have an insurmountable amount of tasks to get through.
The fourth graders are taking a trip to the zoo. The first graders are going to the aquarium. And the fifth graders are having a field day. Oh, and let’s not forget the father-daughter dance on the calendar as well.
Unlocking and getting into the driver side of my car, I realize that regardless of all the work that’s waiting for me, I’m enjoying myself. Turning on the car, I pull out of the driveway. A few minutes later, my phone rings and I click the button on my steering wheel to answer.
“Hey girl heeey!” Emely’s voice fills the vehicle.
“Wow, someone’s back to life,” I tell her. I haven’t spoken with her in a week. A whole week. Granted, I didn’t call her because everything was sort of chaotic, but I’ll give her a hard time for not calling me anyway. That’s what best friends are supposed to do.
“What do you mean?” she asks, clueless as ever.
I slow down as I approach a red light. “I mean, I’ve been here a whole week and you haven’t messaged or called me to make sure I was alive.”
“You’re so dramatic!” she says, laughing from the other end of the line.
I smile to myself and keep driving when the light turns green. “I’m just saying, if something had happened to me, it would be too late for you to do something.”