✧𝙽𝚘𝚊𝚑✧
I don't know what I was expecting when I drove far over the speed limit to get to the apartment building Kiara and Cameron live in. All I knew was that my son sounded like he was about to cry as he admitted he didn't know what he was supposed to do. He could hear his mom sniffling in her room, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do to help her stop.
I doubted she was hurt physically, but still sped over and sprinted up the three flights of stairs because of the possibility. It was small though. I asked him if she fell somewhere or hit her head maybe, he told me no.
He said Wyatt had been over though. It's really not hard to connect the dots in front of me.
I figured there'd probably be some tears in her eyes that she'd try to hide from me, but that's about it. I sure as hell wasn't expecting the last few threads of her restraint to snap right there at the door. I especially wasn't expecting it to break Cameron's too. But there wasn't much I could've done after they both broke other than to hold them while they let it all out.
At the very least, after the last few tears slipped down their now swollen cheeks, they seemed relieved. I'm sure it felt good to get it out. Had to have.
They were both hungry by the time they stopped crying, so I ordered them pizza. Meat lovers and extra cheesy. Couldn't get around that second pizza because they both wanted different things, and I felt like if I said no to one of them, the water works would start up all over again. So, I ended up on the phone ordering both.
That wasn't so bad, but what I quickly found out when the teenage pizza kid got here, that someone picked my phone up from the kitchen counter while I left to find my wallet off the coffee table in the living room, left there because Cam wanted to see the pictures I have in there once he was finished crying.
Cameron secretly ordered one of those cookie pizza things. A big ass one too. Extra chocolate chips, and an extra charge.
I couldn't bring myself to turn that one away when I glanced over my shoulder to see him sneakily peeking hopefully at me from around the corner. I knew he'd get a stomachache on the pizzas, and probably wouldn't be able to finish the big slice of cookie pizza he insisted on.
And I was right. Poor kid passed out right there, crisscross on the living room floor in front of his plate laying on the coffee table—Puddle of drool beside his open mouth pressed against the wood of the coffee table. He hardly got through four bites of that dessert he was so excited about.
I ended up carrying him to his bed, getting drool on my shoulder the whole way. Weirdly enough though, that made me smile. To be able to lift him into my arms and over my shoulder. To carry my sleeping son for the first time to bed because he overestimated himself. To struggle a little to lay him down slowly and without waking him up.
Then when I came back to beam at his mom about my first time carrying my son to bed after he's fallen asleep anywhere else but his bed...she too was asleep. On the couch with her head tossed back uncomfortably, tired from crying herself out today. So, guess what else I got to do.
She, surprisingly, didn't even stir when I maneuvered her up into my arms. I held her like I held our son, with her arms around my shoulders and her legs wrapped around my waist as best as I could direct her to with her fast asleep. I slid her into her own bed the same way I did Cameron, smoothly and without waking her up.
It's only nine, and they're both down—probably for the night. That leaves me pretty much alone in their apartment. What else is there for me to do than to clean up the mess we made with the pizza, the toys still scattered around the living room, and the couch pillow and unfolded throw blanket lying there on the floor?
Just as I'm about to show myself out—literally with my foot out the door—I stop. I freeze and I sigh, stepping back inside and slowly shutting the door again. I have a spare key for emergencies, so I could leave them here safely.
But what if someone wakes up in the middle of the night? What if Cameron slowly comes out of his room all alone and wonders where his dad is? Or what if it's Kiara who wakes up in the middle of the night, coming out into the dark, empty living room to sit on the couch and think about...whatever it is that made her cry so hard tonight?
Then what? Who's there to send them back to bed? Who does the job fall on when there are only two of them? A confused, scared little boy and a heartbroken, tired girl.
There's nothing more for me to do while I wait for my what if scenarios to play out but just sitting on the couch with one lamp on in the whole house right beside me. Maybe it won't happen tonight, but really what's the harm in being here anyway? Nobody gets hurt. Hell, it's a lot like what my brother-in-law does.
The dude has got a guard dog, a deadbolt, security camera on the outside of his door, and still chooses to put himself in the room you first see when you down the hall and on whatever side of the bed is the closest to the door. Talk about paranoid. But—to be fair—his family hasn't been targeted by some burglar and has yet to be preyed upon. So, really how can I blame or make fun of him? Especially while I'm sitting in the living room drinking a Capri-Sun, waiting for one of them to shuffle sleepily down the hall.
Here's something I'll never admit out loud to anyone.
It's times like these where I'm the most tempted to break my sobriety. Times where I'm alone. The house is quiet and dark. It's been a long day, and the sun has been down for hours. I'm not tired though, so I sit on the couch and stare silently at the tv that isn't even on. And in the back of my mind, I know that one glass—just one—would kind of just tie it all together.
It wouldn't even be enough to make me forget anything. Just a sip to feel that familiar burn on my tongue and in my throat while I sit here and think. Something that would feel a little more satisfying than just some juice in an aluminum pouch that fits in the palm of my hand.
It's tempting, but not tempting enough. I know that burn comes with consequences that aren't worth it for just a few minutes of familiarity. I've got too much to lose for that.
__________
Ever thought about how many places there are in your house that you still have yet to touch? Your car, even. Workspace. Places you spend majority of your time.
Could be something as small as this one patch of the floor or wall. The ceiling. The light or the ceiling fan. I mean, you spend most of your time there, and it's kind of hard to wrap your head around the fact that you simply haven't touched everything in that room.
I know. Kind of random, weird, and not really that interesting. But it's what I contemplate with my good old friend Mounted Clock on the Wall. He tells me it's one a.m. and begs me to turn the light off and just lay down on the couch. Give up on the stupid idea that someone's going to come down the hall at any second. He reminds me every so often how agonizingly slowly time is passing and that it could pass a lot faster if I just shut my eyes.
I'm about to listen to my old friend up there but freeze before I can. I swear that old clock's ticks start blending together in a dreadful groan. Maybe it's just my imagination though. It's kind of late.
The soft squeak of door hinges has me making a mental reminder to come back here next time with some damn WD40. I turn my head to watch the hallway silently, waiting for someone to come into view. It doesn't take long for Kiara to emerge into the light from the darkness, squinting and hugging herself to keep herself warm like she must've been in bed. It takes her a second, but her eyes eventually settle on mine, and she processes it's me sitting here on her couch. She doesn't say anything to me while we stare back at each other, silent understanding being acknowledged between us.
Her eyes drift to the ground while she pads her way over, still hugging herself tightly but waking up more and more the closer she gets. My eyes never leave her, turning my head the other way to watch her sit down right beside me on the couch.
I reach behind me absently to tug the blanket I folded not too long ago off the back of the couch, unfolding it all over again just to throw it on her lap. She accepts it silently and pulls it up to her shoulders.
"Sleep good?"
All she does is shake her head softly, eyes trained on the coffee table now. Her blank stare makes me anxious to find out what's going on in that head of hers. "No." She answers, voice raspy from having just woken up. "I ate then fell asleep immediately. My stomach hurts."
I smile apologetically even though she doesn't look at me. "Thought about waking you up, but you seemed tired before dinner even got here." I admit, shrugging softly.
She doesn't answer me at first, still blankly staring. When she finally does let her gaze slide over to me, my eyes are already set on her. "Mm," She acknowledges weakly and with a ghost of a smile she can't seem to give. "Have you been up?"
I nod. "Wasn't tired."
She hesitates. Sighs and looks away again. "Why're you still here?" She asks what I expected to hear.
"I don't know." I admit thoughtfully, absently rubbing my chin with my elbow on the armrest. "Was worried, I guess."
"Worried." She repeats it like the word is funny to her. "Why would you be worried, Noah?"
"Maybe because our son called me over on his walkie talkie because his mom was crying in the other room, and he didn't know how to help her."
Her eyes fall shut and she drops her head. "Oh, God." She whispers like she forgot.
I shake my head softly. She doesn't open her eyes or look at me though. "What's going on, Kiara?"
"Nothing." She whispers stubbornly.
"It's not nothing."
She scoffs quietly and opens her eyes. Finally, she looks at me again. "It's none of your business, Noah." She dismisses.
I straighten at her anger. It's not like her to jump straight to it. I could blame it on the fact that she's just tired and it's late, but I know that's not the reason. "It is my business." I argue. "It became my business when our son called me over and you broke down within ten seconds of me being here."
I thought she cried all her tears already, but her eyes begin turning red around the rims. "I'm sorry I let him see me like that, okay? It won't happen again." She assures, voice shaking with emotion. I recognize that tone of voice. She hates herself for letting him see that his mom has actual human emotions.
I sit up straighter and lean in a bit closer. "Kiara, I'm not as bothered by that as you think I am." I admit. "I don't think it's wrong for him to see that sometimes, we just need to let it out. I think it's good that he knows it's okay to not be totally happy and smiling twenty-four-fucking-seven."
"I'm his mom, and he's only eight." She insists, too stubborn for her own good. It'll be the death of her, I swear it.
"He had a lot of pent-up emotions too, and you know it." I counter quickly. "He was scared and confused about why his mom was crying—I'll give you that. But he's also been through a lot of shit lately that I don't think I'd be able to handle as well as he has. It was about time he let himself feel that, and he probably couldn't have done it without you. He's been afraid to show his emotions because he thought he'd hurt you with them, Kiara. Sometimes, it's okay to show him that you have those feelings too."
She sniffles and drops her head again, lifting her hands to hide her face to hide the fact that her tears are getting the best of her again. I almost feel bad for prompting it, but she needs to have heard it at least once.
"What do you know about parenting him? I've done this by myself for eight fucking years without your inputs. I don't need them now."
"Okay, don't get mad at me because you decided to run without even giving me a shot to fix myself for you guys." I dismiss. She's just pissed off because she knows I'm right about this.
"Shut up, Noah." She dismisses bitterly. She won't even look at me.
"No, you know what? This is bullshit, Kiara. Bullshit." I get up from the couch just to catch her attention with movement if I can't do it with my words. It works. Her eyes fly up to mine, widening a little when she must start to think I'm going to storm out of here like a child. "You tell me I'm just as much of a parent as you are when it's convenient for you to. The second it's not, suddenly I'm not good enough to be one. Suddenly, I don't know shit about him, and I don't get to dig you out of your hole of self-fuckin'-pity."
"Noah,"
"You had a fight with your boyfriend, Kiara. That's got nothing to do with me. Leave me the fuck out of it and drop whatever this act is. I'm here for you guys right now. Don't punish me for it. Let me just be here, would you?"
She scoffs at that. Lifts her eyes to mine with the harshest stare I've ever received. I almost back away and start begging for her forgiveness. "Actually, it's got everything to do with you." She argues. "And I didn't just have a little fight with him. He broke up with me."
I let out a breath at that. Look away from her while I replay my slightly too harsh words. I thought I had to be a little mean to catch her attention, but somewhere in there I went a little far with my tone.
"Thought he wasn't your boyfriend. Can't break up with you if you're not dating."
Her terrifying stare slowly starts sliding off her face. I swallow thickly, and I can't seem to move my eyes away from hers. I think I can hear my little clock friend screaming at me while the seconds of silence tick on by.
She chuckles. Looks anywhere else but me. "You're so stupid." She whispers.
I start to smile. "I'm sorry." I murmur as I start coming back over. With a quiet groan, I fall lazily back onto the couch with her. She hums in response, slowly pulling her knees up to her chest. "What's..." I toss my head back to look up at the ceiling. "What'd I do? Scared him off?"
"A little." She admits. I shut my eyes at that.
"I'm sorry." I repeat. "Didn't mean to. I just..."
"You hated him."
I open my eyes and turn my head at the sound of her gentle giggle. For some reason, she finds it funny. "Yeah," I finally admit on a whisper. "But you and Cam loved him."
She shakes her head softly at that, eyes trained on our reflection in the black tv screen. "I think I just loved the idea of him." She admits, almost shamefully. "He's sweet. Thoughtful. Always was there for me. And hey, he's cute. Drove all the way down here and stayed in a hotel for weeks because he missed us and wanted to try again."
"So, what happened?" I urge while I gave the chance to. She's willing to talk to me now. I'm not fully sure what changed, but I don't question it.
"You."
"I didn't...I don't think I said anything to..." I trial off. Then sigh because I did say something to drive him away. A lot of things. Cheap insults, and shit. I figured he could handle it though, because he threw similar shit back at me. Plus, he loves them.
She shrugs. "Wasn't anything you said. I don't think." She dismisses. I have a hard time believing her. She doesn't even sound like she believes herself.
"So...What? My presence alone?" I scoff quietly at that. I knew he wasn't happy coming back to seeing me now around them, but I figured he loved them both enough to get over himself. I know I did. For the most part.
"I guess." She murmurs. "He didn't like you from the beginning. I don't think there was anything anyone could've said or done to change that."
I chuckle. "Why does it sound like you're trying to comfort me?" I ask curiously. She laughs to herself. "I'm not the one who got broken up with."
"Mm," She acknowledges absently. Lifts a shoulder to shrug me off again. As if it's nothing now. Hell of a mood switch. "I'm trying to comfort you before I tell you the reason he gave me when he left. You're not going to like it, but you're going to keep pushing me to tell you until I snap."
I smile to myself, amused by the fact that she thinks she knows that as a fact. I guess she's not wrong though. It's visibly bothering her. Of course, I'd push her to just spit it out already. "Okay, so give it to me." I encourage. "I can take it. Promise."
She glances at me. Shakes her head softly and goes back to looking at our reflection. I keep my eyes on her, and in her own way, she watches me too. "While we were dating—the first time—he asked me where Cam's dad was. I told him I didn't know. He was just a guy I met in a bar one night and haven't seen since. He asked me why the guy's not in our lives anymore, and I told him what I thought was the truth. The guy wasn't ready to be a dad. Hadn't matured enough yet. Wouldn't know the first thing about what to do with a baby. I guess he drew his own conclusions and decided you were some drunk asshole who took advantage of me and left me alone and pregnant on the side of the road."
"I didn't take advantage of you, did I?" I squint at the ceiling. I don't think I did, but what the hell do I know? I had more drinks than she did, but my tolerance was also through the roof.
"Yeah, you did. Fuck you." She dismisses. I laugh. "Anyway, he's always silently thought you were a prick—which, yes, you are—"
"Hey."
Her smile widens, and she ignores me. "So, to find out you're here now...Guess it was too much for him. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that maybe you're sober now, and a great dad to my son. Couldn't understand how I could trust you and not him. Or why I would have you anywhere near my baby when I took us both to a different room when he came over and sat on the couch for a beer."
I shake my head while she goes on with the reasons he apparently gave her. Straight to her face, he questioned her parenting just because his little pea brained mind couldn't understand that he's not one of Cam's parents. "I'm sorry, Kiara." I mutter. "He didn't know what he was talking about—"
"Yeah, I'm not so sure, Noah."
I blink a couple of times. Stare at her profile while she continues to stare at our reflection. "What?" I almost forget what I was saying from her response.
She sighs and sinks further into the couch cushions. "I don't think he didn't know what he was talking about."
I stare some more. "Are you...What, you think he was...right? To think I'm not sober?" I scoff quietly. Nearly laugh too just in case she's still fucking with me.
She doesn't answer at first though. My halfhearted smile starts shrinking while I wait for her to tell me otherwise. But then I remember what she said about comforting me before she could tell me what the problem was. This is what she was worried about. Not the whole Wyatt leaving because of me, but the things she needs to talk to me about prompted by him leaving.
"He said you took him to a bar. Did you take him to a bar, Noah?"
That snitch.
I shrug slowly. She finally looks right at me instead of our reflection. "I...I mean..." I scoff weakly and look away. Suddenly, I don't want her looking at me. "It was, uh, my sister's friend's bar. Remember, he owns it? I, uh...get free drinks there."
"Free drinks." She dryly repeats.
My eyes fly back to hers. "Smoothies." I clarify quick. "Th-They added...um." I pause to swallow. "Smoothies to their drinks so I could go there too. There are lemonades too. Plain soda. Water. Even hot chocolate. The hot chocolate isn't great though, so I wouldn't recommend. I mostly go for free smoothies, which is why I chose to..." I slowly start training off again when I notice her blank stare. "T-take...him. There."
She blinks slowly. "You went to a bar, and you hid it from me. Why, Noah?"
I sigh deeply when I realize I'm not escaping this one with my irresistibly irresistible charm. "Because I knew you'd be pissed, and you'd get all worried." I choose honesty. Chicks like honesty. Some of them even like the painfully honest approach. It's swoon worthy.
Her eyes narrow. "So, you hid it from me."
"Yes, I hid it from you, Kiara."
"You do realize hiding it from me makes me suspicious, right?"
I cock my head back. "Suspicious of what?"
She stares back at me silently for a moment. Eventually, she sighs and looks away from me. "Noah.." She whispers.
"What, you actually believe him?" I sit up straighter to look at her while she goes back to looking at our reflection like a coward. "Are you fucking kidding me, Kiara?"
"Noah, you hid it from me." She reasons weakly.
"Yeah, because I knew you'd freak the fuck out about it." I scoff. "I mean, it wasn't a big deal. I didn't even get that smoothie I wanted. We just sat there and talked."
She sighs. "You went to a bar, and you hid it from me." She insists, repeating herself over and over like it changes anything.
"For fucks sake, Kiara. I didn't break my sobriety. And the fact that you think I did shows you don't know me or trust me at all." I shake my head as I stand up from the couch again. This time, I might actually storm out like a child.
"Noah, come on." She pleads. "It's not that I don't trust you. I just..."
"Just..." I mock, waving her on to continue. She doesn't though. "You know something, Kiara? I'm not your dad."
She blinks. "What?"
"I'm not your fucking dad." I snap. "I get that you had a fucked childhood and that you're not ready to talk about it to me, or your mom, or a shrink, but just because you're not ready to work through your shit, doesn't mean you get to pawn it on me."
"Noah."
"No—It's not fair, Kiara. I've been sober for nearly seven years. Seven! I get that some of my own issues are on me because of my mistakes, but it's not fair that I'm being punished for your dad's failure. I'm not him, Kiara. I'm not! Please stop treating me like I am."
When I register my own words and the fact that she's staring at me like I've just stabbed her in the heart, I let out a breath and look down at the ground.
"Shit." I whisper to myself as I take a step back. I lift my hand to rub absently at my jaw as I come to terms with the fact that I just word vomited in front of her. Even worse? I let out shit I told myself I wouldn't mention to her—even if one day she decided to let me in and tell me what she hides in the deepest parts of her mind. I knew it'd hurt her because I knew it'd hurt me.
When I reluctantly look back at her to see the damage, I kind of want to throw myself off the balcony. She's still staring at me, letting me see the hurt I've caused alongside the betrayal I'm making her feel. She's only admitted little snippets of it, hardly even out loud, but it must've been hard. And I just used it against her.
I don't even know what to say. Sorry feels pointless, but sometimes pointless is the bare minimum.
Another door squeaks down the hall.
"Fuck." I shut my eyes and look back down at the ground in my shame. I start turning around to retrieve my son before he wakes up too much.
I pause when I hear Kiara moving behind me. She doesn't look at me as she walks around me to go down the hall herself. Cam's just barely shuffling down into the entryway before she's leaning down to scoop him up in her arms. He catches sight of me standing here before his mother can whisk him away. "Daddy," He calls, sounding too sleepily happy to see me.
His happiness doesn't make his mom pause in lifting him off. She looks like she's in a hurry to take him away before he can really see me. Maybe it's my punishment for stomping on her heart.
A bedroom door slams shut shortly after they're both out of my view. I think that's my cue to get the hell out.
I sigh deeply as I turn around and go towards the kitchen just to grab a little aluminum pouch before I head back to the living room to drop down on the couch. "Fucking idiot." I grumble under my breath as I roughly stab the plastic straw into the little I.
She's in there for a while. Maybe hiding from me. Waiting me out. Hoping I've left already while she puts our son back to sleep.
I'm fully prepared to be kicked out when she comes out. Possibly scolded on top of that for waking him up while yelling at her for no reason. I had a reason to be angry, but I had no reason to yell at her. There's no reason for me to yell at her or Cam. Ever.
I wait here until she gets the courage to come back out here and check to make sure I've left. She's visibly disappointed when she sees me lounging on the couch still. My shoes are still by the door too.
"Why aren't you out?"
"Because it's late. I don't like to drive in the dark. Plus, I just yelled at you."
"Yes, you did." She sternly confirms. As sternly as she can muster with tears brewing in her eyes, at least.
"And I apologize for that." I stand up from the couch slowly, discarding my juice onto the coffee table. "There was no need to yell. Especially at night, and especially with Cameron sleeping."
She starts blinking quicker the closer I get to her. I keep my voice low now that Cameron has just been put back to bed. "You woke him up." She whispers. "And you scared him."
"I'm sorry."
"You threw it in my face, Noah. My dad. I told you one thing about him, and you threw it back at me like it was nothing."
"I'm so sorry."
She sniffles. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was comparing you to him."
"I know, princess. I know you didn't."
"I don't want that for Cameron." She continues. "I don't want to scar him by seeing me cry. I don't want him afraid of speaking up. He's just a little boy, Noah." Her voice wavers as she shakes her head slowly. "He doesn't deserve it to be just me, but I think I'm too scared to let it be any other way."
I lift my hand to wipe a tear off her cheek. She doesn't stop or acknowledge it.
"Almost seven years is a really long time. It's a big accomplishment, and I'm proud of you for it. I'm sorry I made you feel like I doubted it."
I tilt my head as I uselessly stand here and watch more tears fall. Half of which, I'm sure aren't even for me. Probably for him. It's okay though. I get it.
Her sniffles come out stuttered. "And I'm so sorry I slammed the door."
I start to chuckle. "All right, all right, relax, Kiara. You're going to wake him back up again." I lift my hand again to get rid of a couple more tears. The ones I wipe away are quickly replaced all over again though.
"Smoothies are good." She nods quickly. Chokes on some of her own sobs. "I get why you'd go if the bar's smoothies were good. And I get why you'd hide it from me."
"Uh-huh," I acknowledge dismissively as I continue to get my hands wet with her tears. Truthfully, I'm not too worried about the comparison she put together tonight. Not right now, at least. It'll haunt me in the later hours of every night for the rest of my life, but for now I'm more concerned about her crying habits. She'll dehydrate herself crying like this.
"Wyatt told me a lot of stupid stuff, you know? I think it got to me." She whispers an Oh, God under her breath as her tears start picking up. I glance over her shoulder at Cameron's closed bedroom door. "I mean, I trusted him a lot. Really liked him too. And it hurt, you know? To hear him say he didn't want to be with me anymore because he couldn't trust my son's father and therefore, couldn't trust me because I trusted you."
What a jackass.
"But I know that's not an excuse. I still hurt you, and I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."
I turn away from her wordlessly and start back over to the couch. My juice is still sat on the coffee table, and I'm going to have to come back for it later.
She makes one of those muffled hiccup sounds from somewhere in her throat. "Noah?"
I turn the lamp off at the same time I turn my phone flashlight on. "Go to bed, Kiara." I dismiss as I come back over to her so I can herd her back to bed if need be.
She frowns down at the light from my phone then back up at me. "I'm not tired anymore." She mutters.
"It's almost two in the morning, and Cam's going to want to do something fun since it's the weekend." I reason with a shrug as I use one hand to start urging her down the hall. "Go to bed."
"But..." She doesn't actually have anything to argue with, so she slowly starts shuffling along.
She stops just a foot away from her open door. "Come on." I whisper as quietly as I possibly can with us standing right beside Cam's room. "Keep going, Kiara. Go to bed."
She slowly looks up at me from over her shoulder. "Were you lying when you said you didn't like driving in the dark?" She turns back around to look up at me properly.
"I'll be fine."
"But were you lying?"
"Who actually likes driving in the dark?" I shrug. Not me. I hate the fucking headlights on new cars out there. Too bright. It's like all of them have their damn beams on. My sister likes to tell me it's just because I'm old and my eyesight doesn't work like it used to, but that's not it. I'm not old. It's the cars that are the problem.
"You can stay if you want." She sighs as she offers, almost like half of her doesn't want to. "But you have to sleep on the couch because the air mattress pump will wake him up."
I nod at that. "Can I at least get a blanket thicker than the throw one behind the couch?"
"Fine. But you're going to have to deal with the couch pillows because I'm not giving up one of my blankets and my pillows."
I frown. Pause to think it over. "Okay, if I can only have one or the other, then give me a pillow. I'll take the cold over an ache in my back for a week."
She nods. "Okay." She agrees. "Come on." She beckons as she spins back around to go into her room. I hesitate to follow her in there, ultimately opting to stand just an inch inside of her room. She flips the light switch on and strolls right up to her bed to carefully pick out the pillow she wants to let me have. As she's pulling the pillow case off, probably to replace it with a newer one, she pauses.
She stares at the mattress for a few seconds before looking over at me. I start to smile the longer she stares at me. "Can I have the pillow?" I ask on a chuckle.
"Yes." She nods. She doesn't give it to me though. "Can you do something for me?" She returns.
I squint playfully. "Depends on what it is."
"When I was little...I'd cry, and my mom would pick me up and lay with me in my bed until I stopped. She stopped doing that after a while—I think I got too old. I haven't been held in my bed in a long time, and..."
"What do you want from me, Kiara?"
"Can you lay with me?"
She cried her eyes out most of the day. Got broken up with just this afternoon. Has freaked out over letting our son see her tears. Freaked out on me a second ago. Can't seem to stay on one subject long enough to finish a thought. She's probably not thinking right at all. Plus, it's late, and she still has some tears in her eyes.
"Not for long." Kiara continues when I never answer her. "Maybe until I fall asleep. Or until you get bored and tired. You can go back to the couch."
I look down at her bed for a moment then back at her, mostly unsure. I mean, it'd be weird, right? Laying with my son's mom—holding her. In her own bed. I don't even think I'm supposed to be in her room much less hold her.
"I don't think..." I awkwardly clear my throat.
"Please?"
I shift on my feet. "You can't get mad at me when you've gotten enough sleep to get in the right head space." I decide. "You can't cry at me again." I quickly add. "And don't ever question my sobriety—I mean it, Kiara. I may not be as scary as you are, and I may not be able to threaten you with walking away, but I will be pissed off. And I won't try to hide it to save your feelings if you don't care about mine."
She starts nodding quickly. "Okay." Her hand lifts to quickly wipe a few fingers across her cheek to try and dismiss a few tears.
"I said don't cry at me, Kiara."
"Mhm," Her voice wavers, still nodding quickly and lifting another hand to wipe her cheek once more.
"Kiara,"
"I actually can't stop—it's a problem."
"Yeah, it is." I sigh deeply as I grab the collar of my sweater. "I don't like it when you cry at me, Kiara. It's not fair." I grumble, voice getting muffled as the thick fabric of my sweater passes over my face while I pull it up. "It's like when a puppy gives you these big shiny eyes under the table while you're trying to eat your steak. I'm just trying to enjoy my fucking steak, leave me the hell alone and quit making me want to set the goddamn plate on the floor."
I sharply huff as I ball my sweater up before throwing it roughly onto the bed. When I look back at her, she blinks a couple of times at me, letting a couple more tears slip from her lashes. Starts to frown. "Did you just compare me to a dog?" She whispers.
"Get in bed, Kiara."
She sniffles and cries silently to herself as she quickly climbs up into her bed. I shake my head the whole time she struggles a bit to get all the way up there. For some reason, her bed is raised. Up on another platform that has a few drawers on each side. For what, I have no clue. She has a dresser across the room that I'm pretty sure has all her clothes inside. Maybe they're for decoration. I have no idea if they even are actual drawers—all I see is the door things.
I dismiss it and reach behind me to shut the door for now. Just in case Cam wanders back out of his room. We're not doing anything in here, but I feel like he shouldn't be seeing anything like that. The kid was heartbroken when he realized Mommy and Daddy don't love each other the way they're supposed to. He doesn't need any kind of hope.
"Turning the light off." I warn her with a glance over my shoulder. I'm sure to size the room up before I actually turn off the light so I can navigate my way through without using my phone.
Once my light's gone, I step closer with my hand beginning to extend out to touch the foot of the mattress. I walk along that with my hand on it just in case. "Over here." She whispers once she either sees or hears a slight hesitation from me. I follow her voice and climb up onto the bed with her. She's still sniffling some, but I let it slide.
Really, it just helps that the lights off and I can't see those big brown sparking eyes begging me to go retrieve the fucking moon for her. I still don't like hearing her cry, but she's gotta get it all out somehow, right? And what am I gonna do? Force her to swallow it down? No. That's just going to end in me getting called over again more often.
Not that it's a bad thing for me to be called over. I just don't like it when it's because Kiara's crying and Cam is scared.
"You can leave when you want." She whispers as she rolls over to hesitantly brush her shoulder against my arm.
I lift my arm and drape it around her shoulders. The other lands briefly on her hip. "Uh-huh," I acknowledge as I use my hold on her to drag her across the mattress and closer to me. She ends up rolled over, almost on her side so she can drop her forehead against my cheek and her hand on my chest. My hand starts absently rubbing up and down her arm. As best as I can sat up in the bed with her tucked up against me, I start to rock us back and forth.
She told me once—the very first time we met—that her mother used to rock her when she was upset. It was a one-off comment she made. I think we were talking passively about crying. I'd made some stupid joke after she playfully insisted she wasn't interested in me, and it led to her admitting that was what her mom did for her when she cried. She rocked her.
It's what she does for Cameron too. We pick things up from the people who raise us, and this is what's he's passed onto him. She knows how comforting it is, and it never fails to get the job done for him. I doubt it's changed for her.
She takes slow, deep breaths while I very slowly move from side to side. It's subtle, and she might not even recognize that we're swaying like this. It still calms those last few tears down though.
Her palm presses flat against my chest. Then moves to curl into a limp fist. She decides that's not as comfortable as she thought, and she unfolds her fist to go back to pressing her palm down flat.
"Noah?"
I take a loud, playfully dreadful breath. "Kiara?"
She chuckles to herself. "Can I tell you something?"
"Will you go to sleep afterwards?"
"Maybe." I feel her shrug. "Can I?"
"Tell me."
"I think you're a good dad." Her fingers slowly start curling again. "I know you didn't want to be. You never asked to be. But you're good anyway. I was afraid you'd...hurt us. Maybe. When I first got pregnant and when we saw each other again to talk about everything. I was wrong though, and it wasn't right of me to run before I even gave you a chance to get better. You're a good dad. I think you always would've been if I gave you the chance to be."
The truth is, I'm not so sure she's right. While it makes me happy to hear she thinks I'm good now, I don't really believe her. I make mistakes. And had she actually given me that chance that I keep thinking would've been everything to me, I think I would've made even more mistakes.
It's so upsetting to think about, but sometimes I can't help but sit there quietly and think. It's the fact that had a young girl come knocking at my door or approached me in a bar to tell me she was carrying my child...
I'd have slammed the door. Laughed in her face. Told her to get the hell out of my face and find someone else who cares.
Fuck. It's heartless, but I can't even say it wouldn't have been possible. I was never in my right mind, and I frankly didn't care about anything. It's why I didn't turn her down on her offer to go somewhere quieter instead of continuing to chat with her. It's why I drove my sister to the point where she just snapped and had to put her foot down. I stole, I lied, I cheated, and I didn't give a shit.
At the time, it'd been uncharacteristic of me to actually care about whatever this girl had been drunkenly giggling about at the table. Any other time, I'd have disregarded those worries she admitted to about her mother, and I'd have forgotten every little thing she told me about herself that night. I don't know why I ultimately remember the things we talked about. Maybe I was having a good day though. I don't even remember.
I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I'd have hurt her. I don't know how bad, but I'd have hurt her the way I somehow managed to hurt my sister.
"Just go to sleep, Kiara."