Reminders of Him

Choose your battles, they say. But what happens when you never
choose any?
“I don’t want to play T-ball anymore,” Diem says out of the blue.
She’s dipping her french fry into honey when she makes that decision. The
honey dribbles down her hand.
I try to get her to eat her fries with ketchup because it’s a lot easier to
clean, but she wouldn’t be Diem if she didn’t do everything the hardest way
possible.
“You don’t like T-ball anymore?”
She shakes her head and licks her wrist.
“That’s fine. But we only have a few more games, and you made a
commitment.”
“What’s a commitment?”
“It’s when you agree to do something. You agreed to be a part of the
team. If you quit in the middle of the season, your friends will be sad. You
think you can make it through the rest of the season?”
“If we can have McDonald’s after all the games.”
I narrow my eyes in her direction. “Why do I feel like I’m getting
swindled?”
“What does swindled mean?” she asks.
“It means you’re trying to trick me into getting you McDonald’s.”
Diem grins and eats her last fry. I put all our trash on the tray. I grab
her hand to lead her out of the store and remember the honey. Her hands are
as sticky as a flytrap. I keep wet wipes in my truck for this very reason.
A couple of minutes later, she’s buckled up in her booster seat and I’m
scrubbing her hands and arms with the wet wipe when she says, “When is

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my mom getting a bigger car?”
“She drives a minivan. How big of a car does she need?”
“Not Nana,” Diem says. “My mom. Skylar said my mom never comes
to my T-ball games, and I told her she will when she gets a bigger car.”
I stop wiping her hands. She never brings up her mother. This is twice
in one day we’ve brushed the conversation.
I guess she’s getting to that age, but I have no idea what Grace or
Patrick has told her about Kenna, and I have absolutely no idea why she’s
asking about her mother’s car.
“Who told you your mom needed a bigger car?”
“Nana. She said my mom’s car isn’t big enough and that’s why I live
with her and NoNo.”
That’s confusing. I shake my head and throw the wipes in a sack. “I
don’t know. Ask your nana.” I close her door and text Grace as I’m circling
around to the driver’s side of my truck.
Why does Diem think her mother isn’t in her life because
she needs a bigger car?
We’re a few miles away from McDonald’s when Grace calls. I make
sure not to answer it on speaker. “Hey. Diem and I are on our way back.”
It’s my way of letting Grace know I can’t say much on my end.
Grace sucks in a breath like she’s getting ready for a long explanation
to my text. “Okay, so last week, Diem asked me why she doesn’t live with
her mother. I didn’t know what to say, so I told her she lives with me
because her mother’s car isn’t big enough to fit all of us. It was the first lie I
could come up with. I panicked, Ledger.”
“I’d say so.”
“We plan on telling her, but how do you tell a child her mother went to
prison? She doesn’t even know what prison is.”
“I’m not judging,” I say. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same
page. We should probably come up with a more accurate version of the
truth, though.”
“I know. She’s just so young.”
“She’s starting to get curious.”

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“I know. Just . . . if she asks again, tell her I’ll explain it to her.”
“I did. Prepare for questions.”
“Great,” she says with a sigh. “How did the game go?”
“Good. She wore the red boots. And got McDonald’s.”
Grace laughs. “You’re a sucker.”
“Yeah. Tell me something new. See you soon.” I end the call and
glance into the back seat. Diem’s face is full of concentration.
“What are you thinking, D?”
“I want to be in a movie,” Diem says.
“Oh yeah? You want to be an actress?”
“No, I want to be in a movie.”
“I know. That’s called being an actress.”
“Then, yeah, that’s what I want to be. An actress. I want to be in
cartoons.”
I don’t tell her cartoons are just voices and drawings. “I think you’d be
a great cartoon actress.”
“I will be. I’m gonna be a horse or a dragon or a mermaid.”
“Or a unicorn,” I suggest.
She grins and looks out her window.
I love her imagination, but she definitely didn’t get it from Scotty. His
mind was more concrete than a sidewalk.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN
KENNA
I’ve never seen a picture of Diem. I don’t know if she looks like me or
Scotty. Are her eyes blue or brown? Is her smile honest like her father’s?
Does she laugh like me?