Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Norman..."

He peers at me through tired, slanted eyes. "Everything's about to change...Don't worry. You are ready for it."

I shake my head, my breaths escaping like gasps. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to be a mother. I won't be any good."

"You sell yourself short. You always do."

I close my eyes, and drop my head onto his hand, exhaling. "I'm scared. I'm so scared."

He's coherent, but the fever isn't gone. I feel like it doesn't matter. He knows he's not coming back from this. That's why he's doing this, that's why the words are so hard to utter.

"He's good for you. He'll keep you safe. I was wrong...before. I should have never done what I did. I added to your pain, when you've gone through...so much of it already."

I lift my head, shaking it profusely. "That's over now. All of that is in the past. I'm happy. I am. I'm glad I know everything now." I inhale deeply, to hold back all the emotions that want to come out. I smile wide, wanting to prove how happy I am, even though I feel like shit. Like absolute shit. I just want to make him happy. "I'm glad you're my dad. I'm so glad."

His eyes water, even further than they have naturally become. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I gave you to them."

I hear my own tears, and the sound of resistance I make when I hold them back.

"You should have been loved, from the start. You're so perfect, Scarlett." He sucks in a difficult breath, his teeth chattering. "The most perfect thing I've ever done and I'm so proud of you."

I shake my head, and look down, a sob ripping right through my chest. It's like a blade, a sharp destructive blade. It's a lifetime of struggles, and low expectations—that feeling of not being enough. And it's the blade that desperately tries to puncture into that hard, steel-like layer of skin, to rid me of that pain. It's a gift he's trying so hard to give me.

The tears have come—along with everything he and I haven't had the courage to say before.

"I wish I had more time. I wish I could give you away, and spoil your kids. I wish a lot of things."

I squeeze his hands tighter when he shows more pain than he has before, coughing and deflating as if there were barely anything left in him. I'm inhaling and exhaling with incredible force, my adrenaline surging with fear.

"Tell me about her," I plead, softly.

He blinks, fast, staring at me. I nod, over and over again.

"Please, tell me about her. I want to know."

Speaking is something that hurts him, but when he's speaking of her it seems to hurt just a little less.

"She was a spiritual woman. She-she never liked to stay in one job for too long. She hated conformity. I don't...think she ever stayed in one for more than three months." He chuckles. "You definitely got your drive from me. Don-Donna didn't find hers until we found out...found out about you."

I stare at him, studying his face, finding traces of myself I'd forced my mind not to notice.

"She...screamed when she read the test. She cried, and laughed. I was so shocked, we'd only been together a year but...it was a great year. She wanted to name you Anna." His eyes close, like he can't keep them open and reopen. "Anna."

"She loved Bollywood, and fortune cookies. Didn't like Chinese food, but would get it for the fortunes. She wore pink, all the time and-and cried whenever she saw someone pick a flower from the ground."