“It’s Kenna.” I say that with a smile because I know I’ll never have to
lie to anyone about my name again.
“Will you push me?”
I push her on the swing, and she starts telling me about a movie
Ledger took her to see recently.
Ledger walks out onto the porch and sees us talking. He comes over to
us and stands behind me, wrapping his arms around me. He kisses the side
of my head, right when Diem turns and looks at us. “Gross!”
Ledger kisses the
side of my head again and says, “Get used to it, D.”
Ledger takes over pushing Diem’s swing, and I sit down in the swing
next to her and watch them. Diem tips her head back and looks at Ledger.
“Are you gonna marry my mom?”
I should probably have a reaction to the marriage part of that question,
but my brain only focuses on the fact that she just said
my mom.
“I don’t know. We still need to get to know each other better.” Ledger
looks at me and smiles. “Maybe one of these days I’ll be worthy enough to
marry her.”
“What does
worthy mean?” she asks.
“It means good enough.”
“You’re
good enough,” Diem says. “That’s why I named my turtle
Ledger.” She tilts her head back again and looks at him. “I’m thirsty, will
you bring me a juice?”
“Go get it yourself,” he says.
I get out of the swing. “I’ll get you a juice.”
I
hear Ledger mutter to her, “You’re so rotten,” as I walk away.
Diem laughs. “I am not!”
When I go inside, I watch them from the back door for a moment.
They’re adorable together. She’s adorable. I’m scared I’m about to wake up
and realize none of this actually happened, but I know it’s happening. And I
know I’ll eventually embrace that I deserve this. Maybe after I finally have
a real conversation with the Landrys.
I walk into the kitchen to find Grace cooking. “She wants some juice,”
I say as I enter.
Grace’s hands are full of chopped tomatoes, and she drops them into a
salad. “It’s in the fridge.”
I grab a juice and observe Grace as she prepares dinner. I want to be
more helpful and interactive with her than
I was the first time Scotty
brought me to this house. “How can I help?”
Grace smiles at me. “You don’t have to. Go spend time with your
daughter.”
I start to walk out of the kitchen, but my steps feel so heavy. I have so
much I want to say to Grace that I didn’t have the chance to say to her
earlier today at my apartment. I turn around, and
I’m sorry is on the tip of
my tongue, but
I feel like if I open my mouth, I’ll cry.
My eyes meet Grace’s, and she can see the agony in my expression.
“Grace . . .” My voice is a whisper.
She immediately walks over to me and pulls me in for a hug.
It’s an amazing hug. A forgiving hug. “Hey,” she says, soothingly.
“Hey, listen to me.” She pulls back, and we’re
about the same height, so
we’re eye to eye when she takes the juice from me and sets it aside. Then
she squeezes both of my hands reassuringly. “We go forward,” she says.
“That’s it. It’s that simple. I forgive you and you forgive me, and we go
forward together and give that little girl the best life we can give her.
Okay?”
I nod, because I can do that. I forgive them. I’ve always forgiven
them.
It’s myself I’ve been hard on. But I think I’ve reached the point that
forgiving myself finally feels okay.
So I do.
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