silent

17

"How could anyone ever lay a mean finger on you?" He asks. "You're the sweetest little thing ever."

I blush. He grins and hugs me again, and the doctor walks back in, a sympathetic and calm look on her face.

"Mr Romano, if I could talk to you for a second that would be great. Amalia, honey, there's some biscuits out in the main area. Why don't you go grab a few for you and your dad?"

I look up at my dad, who kisses my cheek and lifts me onto the floor. I frown, I don't want to leave. But I do, because my dad walks over to the desk and sits down, but he looks like he'd rather be with me too.

I wave goodbye and walk over to the door, making my way into the main area.

• LORENZO •

I tell the doctor a short summary of what happened with Amalia's back, because it's not any of her business, and Amalia didn't even want me knowing. I doubt she'd want a random woman to know.

     I clench my fists. If that bastard was still alive, I'd tear him apart slowly. Intricately. I'd make him stay alive for as long as possible so he could suffer—

     "I want to talk you about Amalia's weight. She's very much underweight for her age. The average weight for twelve year olds is ninety two pounds. You'll need to make sure she's eating at least three, relatively large meals a day with plenty of snacks in between. It'll be very important from now that you make sure to monitor her eating habits, because it could lead to sickness if she doesn't change them quickly." She pulls a file out of her drawer. "These are recommended foods and sort of schedules that children of this age class are suggested to follow."

     "Thank you." I say, taking it.

     "No problem. You can book a follow up appointment to ensure everything with her weight is up to standard, if you'd like."

     "Okay, when can I do that?"

     "I have an availability in.. two weeks. You can bring her in and we can try see if she's gained at least.. seven pounds by then."

     "Okay."

     "Great, I'll book you in." She types something on her computer, and I look to the door. I want to go see Amalia so badly, to snuggle her up in my arms and never let go. "Alright, I'll see you in two weeks."

     I nod. "Bye."

     I practically run out into the main area, Amalia's shoes in my hands since she forgot them, and smile at her. She's sitting on a chair, legs crossed with a tissue of biscuits on her lap. There's chocolate around her mouth. She looks adorable.

     My heart saddens.

     "You forgot your shoes, baby." I say. I crouch down by her and put them on for her. She should never have to do a single thing for the rest of her life, my little sweetheart.

     She smiles at me, but it's distracted and sad.

     "You ready to go?" I ask quietly. The surprise I had put in for her at home seems silly now, after the day she's had.

     She nods and stands, latching onto my hand like it's a lifeline and she's drowning as we walk out, back to the car. I open her door for her and make sure she's buckled in before rounding the car and sliding into the passengers seat.

•

Elijah covers Amalia's eyes, an excited look on his face as he helps navigate his baby sister to the end of the deck.

     I haven't told any of my sons what happened yet. I'll do it later, when Amalia's asleep and when she won't be able to hear the chaos that I'm sure will erupt once I tell the rest of my children.

     "Okay, you ready?" Elijah questions.

     Amalia nods warily. Elijah uncovers her eyes and watches as Amalia takes the back garden in.

     More importantly, the medium sized greenhouse in the back corner of it.

     Her eyes widen and she gasps, then turns around to me, a question in her eyes. Is that for me?

     "It's all yours, baby." I say softly.

     A huge grin breaks out on her face, and she jumps up and down. Then she runs over to me and jumps into my arms, knocking me backwards, and wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I laugh and hug her back, kissing her forehead. Then she goes over to Elijah, tackling him as she just did me.

     "Go on," he urges, "go inside."

     She does. I hear her squeal of excitement when she sees the dozens of supplies—seeds, spades, pots, everything she'll need to create a perfect little greenhouse.

     If it were up to me, I'd buy every plot of land on the entire earth and let her do whatever she wants with it. She deserves that, and so much more.