Prologue
"Hey Gracie?" Alison called from across the house as she sat at her computer. Grace ambled over to the study- a forbidden place since she was one and spit up all over Alison's papers. "Look what I just found!" The twelve year old leaned over her mom's shoulder. Short dark hair fell over the little girl's equally dark eyes that she tucked behind her ears.
"Camp Runoia?" She read aloud.
"It's a sleep away camp in Maine," Alison explains. "You're always complaining we've only visited Uncle Jason in Colorado. What if this summer you go somewhere different?" Her daughter cocked her head.
"That's like on the other side of the country," she pointed out and her mom laughed.
"Don't get mushy squash with me Stella! It's only for two weeks…"
Grace nodded. "Sounds fun," she grinned, "Two weeks away from you? Sign me up!" Grace bolted and Alison's mouth fell agape.
"When did you become such a little brat?!" Alison called after her and laughed to herself. She settled herself back down and pressed: 'register'. As the mother rooted through her overflowing purse for her wallet a slip of paper fluttered to the ground. She didn't notice it at first, but before she could press the final 'ok' her eyes wandered.
It was a just a tiny, dusty, old photo with a few crinkled edges, and some type of stain. But curiosity compelled the careful mother to brush away the dust and look closer. It revealed a younger version of herself, sweaty and exhausted, but grinning with more force than Alison had since then. In her arms were two tiny pink bundles.
Oh.
She gently turned it over and "Grace Dilaurentis and Lilly Fields, 7 pounds, 6 pounds, 12 and ½ inches, 11 inches, August 19th, 8:31 am, August 19th 9:01 am" was scrawled on it with light blue pen.
Though the blonde's face held no obvious emotion fat tears were forming before Alison could stop them.
Those first few weeks had been the worst. Not just because of the pregnancy- any parent can tell you how horrible the beginning is- but her nightmares were frequent and there was no one to kiss away the fear. Her body was recovering from delivery, she had no support system, and the trauma from AD and Rollins still weighed heavily on her mind. But even while she was constantly awake with the baby and only getting catnaps here and there everytime her eyes closed she flashed back. Sometimes to her mother burying her alive, or Rollins putting restraints on her, or Emily giving her that look- that 'I'll never forgive you' look. Her limited sleep schedule still allowed for nightmares and the circles under her eyes that formed drew stares from passersby whenever she left the house.
Her postpartum depression was hitting her with a vengeance that no one bothered to warn her about. She hated herself for not being happier and only able to focus on the negatives. She had a baby for christ sake but found herself sobbing after she broke a glass. For awhile it fueled her self-hatred and she was convinced she wasn't allowed to be happy.
It didn't help that too much of her precious free time had been spent trying get in touch with Emily- with anyone that might be able to- that she lost touch with reality. Alison had been so convinced it was all just some mistake to rectify… but when the weeks began to turn into months- the truth finally did hit her.
Emily truly left Rosewood behind. Not only that but she left her daughter. She even left Alison. The former queen bee found herself- for the first time in her life- completely and utterly alone.
Alison broke down somewhere between the diaper rash, the diaper blow out, and Grace's unwillingness to be soothed (maybe the little girl missed her girls too). Yet once Alison had been completely stripped of her dignity, she'd been able to build herself up again. She figured out her daughter's favorite foods, favorite lullabies, and read so many parenting hacks articles her dark circles even began to fade a little.
Quite simply- she got her shit together.
It was then that Alison stopped trying to get in touch with Emily and started getting in touch with Grace. She stopped mourning things she never had in the first place and celebrated every crawl, every gurgle, and every moment of Grace's childhood.
Alison started reading Grace Dickens at night, and Shakespeare in the morning. She played classic rock through the house and taught Grace to walk to the sound of The Police. They walked into a dog pound with reckless abandon and came out with a puppy named Pepe- the second.
Alison watched her daughter grow up and revelled in how happy Grace was.
Every toothy smile was a victory Alison never needed a trophy for. And every night after saying "Goodnight Moon", the mom slept peacefully knowing her daughter would never grow up the way she did. She slept peacefully knowing that her daughter would never become the person she once was.
One day, Grace turned five years old and Alison was waving her away to school with a full camera roll. Then Grace turned seven and was reading Juliet's Soliloquy back to Alison with alarming ease. Suddenly she was ten with a busted lip and watching with a slacked jaw as her mother eviscerated a fifth grader for pushing her.
And now she was twelve. Twelve years old and too stubborn, smart, and loyal for her own good.
Alison stared at the tiny crumpled picture she probably had blown up somewhere anyway. Grace was a tween and she already had a favorite Greek playwright, hated Great Expectations (much to her mother's disdain) and sang the Beatles at top pitch through their house. And she was going to camp for two weeks.
"Grace?" Alison called and her daughter walked back to the office.
"What's up?" She asked hanging from the door frame. Alison quickly placed the photo on her desk and turned around in the swivel chair.
"You know I love you right?" Alison murmured and her daughter laughed. Her carefree smile lit up Alison's quiet office even at her mom's more hesitant and reserved expression.
"Who's being 'Mushy Squash' now?" She mocked and laughed running outside and now chasing a barking saint bernard.
"Don't make me raise you by hand!" Alison yelled back at her chuckling to herself. She looked at the photo again. For a trauma victim, a single mother, and a total bitch, Alison did pretty well. She entered the credit card information onto the payment page of the Camp Website and put her wallet back- but placed the photo in a separate drawer in her desk.
Pretty damn good.
Lily turns twelve
"PLEASE? Pleeeeeeeease? Please please pleeease? Please please please please please?"
"No," Emily grumbled, "And that's final."
"It´s only a concert," her daughter reasoned. "There'll be like eighty adults there," a pause as they turned to the boy hovering outside his older sister's bedroom, "Oh hey gremlin."
"Don't call your brother a gremlin Lily," her mother chastised as the kindergartener wandered into his older sister's bedroom using the greeting as an invitation.
"Oh Wayne doesn't mind…" the twelve year old said, pushing his shoulder lightly. "Do you gremlin?" He looked at both of them.
"What's a gremlin?" He asked and the people in front of him laughed.
"See," Lily pointed out, "So can I please please please please-"
"Ugh," Emily groaned cutting the girl off before she could continue. "You can go to one when you're older. We live thirty minutes from San Jose- there will be more."
"Is it about money?" her daughter asked, "Cause I'll help pay for it, I can break open my piggy bank and-"
"No-" She rubbed her eyes.
"Then what is it?" Lily demanded, "Why can't I go?" There was a long silence where Emily looked her daughter over.
She was growing up.
Just yesterday she was three years old and Emily was frantically searching for her in a grocery store.
The day before that Emily caught her as she was pushed out into the world. She had held the tiny bundle, watched her eyes open, and taken her daughter in for the first time.
It was weird having a kid. You have to work for someone's love, and most of the time- you'll never get it. But kids are born loving their moms, they're born having to trust their moms. They have to- they don't have anyone else to trust.
Lily was born with big brown eyes that trusted and loved Emily with all of her tiny soul. And Emily was born that day too. She was born with the instinct to protect the bundle in her arms, defend it at all costs, and love it just as it loved her.
Maybe she was too young to have a kid like her parents and her friends warned her. Twenty-three and she was already looking at cribs in IKEA, and putting a down payment on a house. Maybe that was why everything was so goddamn difficult now.
Twelve years old - twelve years later - and she's started talking about boys. She has a journal she refuses to show Emily, and has started begging for a phone and a later curfew.
Maybe she was too young to have a kid because as soon as her tiny bundle was born she became Mom. She lost the part of her that was Emily Fields. And that was fine. But now- finally faced with the terrifying reality that her daughter wouldn't be reliant on her again- she didn't know what to do.
Someday she wouldn't have to make her dinner, or fold her clothes, or help her with homework. Someday Lily wouldn't need her. And that day was coming faster and faster every single time Emily blinked. She was Mom right now, it was the best title she had ever had. She didn't know what would happen when she was only called that during weekly phone calls.
"I just," she took a deep breath, "I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt," Emily admitted softly.
"Oh Mom!" Lily hugged her tightly, throwing her arms around Emily's waist. ¨I'll be fine! And you have Wayne won´t you?"
"When did you get so grown up?¨ Emily asked returning the hug just as tightly. "Fine, you can go see Lady Grande or whoever…" Instantly Lily pulled away and began to jump up and down her bed.
"YESS!" She shouted and Emily smiled softly. She didn't even bother telling her to come down.