"I got slated for academic confinement," Emily grumbled into the receiver of her work phone.
"Oh," Myka gasped conspiratorially," what on earth did you do that landed you in detention?"
"You are so humorous, dear." Emily heard the laugh on the other line and already her spirits were lifting. "I will have to oversee the delinquents until 3:30, so I will be unable to pick up Christina today. Angie will love that, seeing as it was supposed to be her day off."
"How about I pick her up? I'm already ahead of schedule today."
There was a pause on the other line, then an intake of breath. "Are you sure, Myka? I do not want to impose."
Myka knew what Emily was asking. Behind those words was an apprehensive mother. Christina's tantrums were few and far between, but she was not without her stiff retorts and glib comments in the presence of the professor. It wasn't that Emily didn't trust Myka. Faith in her daughter's behavior dwindling, Emily only desired peace for them all. A stalemate did not seem imminent. She felt herself a middleman between the people she cares most about, and Myka was aggrieved for Emily
"It's no trouble. And it gives the two of us some time to have fun without Mom hovering," Myka snickered, way more excited than she should at the prospect of handing over a sugar-frenzied Christina to Emily
"Ah, getting back at me for that lemon meringue incident, I see. Well, don't let her eat too much before her dinner. Just a snack. And do not fall for her tricks. Those fluttering eyes and 'Mummy dearests' used to work wonders on my resolve."
"Oh, ye of little faith. I already have a plan of attack. I thought I'd go grocery shopping first and tire the girl out until snack time. What do you think?"
"Wear the target out and placate afterwards. I think you are giving General Patton a run for his money, dear. While you're at it could you be a dear and pick up a few provisions for your ally in arms?"
"That's pushing it, Lake, but I think I could muster up some good old fashioned camaraderie."
"I am much appreciative, Comrade."
Myka chuckled from the other line. She wished her friend luck with the delinquents while Emily granted the same with her daughter.
"So what did you do in school today?"
"School things."
Myka rolled her eyes. She gripped the steering wheel tighter and drove on.
"Anything interesting? Or was it nothing you didn't know already?"
Ha. A compliment wrapped in a very direct question. She couldn't escape her clutches now.
"It was all boring if you ask me." Christina glared out the window and muttered under her breath, "Quite like this conversation."
Strike two.
Remembering Claudia's input that she herself was a kid once, Myka tried to recall how her time at school was. Unlike Christina, eight-year-old Myka adored her teachers and the lessons they assigned. She couldn't wait to proceed into the next grade and receive more assignments. And when her parents inquired about her day she gushed on and on until her sister jumped in and monopolized the conversation. Suddenly, a thought struck Myka.
"Christina, some of your friends have big families, right?"
The girl looked over at Myka and frowned at the unexpected question. "Yes."
"Um," Myka shifted in her driver's seat, eyes focused ahead, "well, do you ever wish you had a sibling? Like a little brother or sister?"
"I don't know. I suppose not. One does not need a father or a sibling to be a family."
"Of course not. You and your mother are very close. I can see that."
"And I like my family the way it is. I do not need a brother or a sister. Or another parent for that matter."
She didn't tear her gaze from the road to know the girl was glaring at her. Myka could feel the tension coming from her in waves. She wasn't exactly offended, of course. She understood that Christina felt threatened, even when there was no basis for it. She was a child and was obviously making assumptions based on her and her mother's relationship. Emily and Myka were close, she could admit to that, but did she intend to come between a mother and her daughter? Did she want to instill herself in the girl's life as her mother? No, absolutely not. Surely not. No.
Then why do I feel so offended?
"I care about your mother very much. She's my friend – the most trusting one I've ever had. And because of that you matter to me, too. The last thing I want to do is take Emily's place. Can you really not understand that I just want to make you both happy? After all the time we've spent together?"
Christina continued her stare out the passenger window, fascinated by the passing trees and street lamps. She may have been in denial, but it was better than a verbal contradiction.
The fluorescent lights beat down on them with a vengeance. The grocery store wasn't exactly bustling with its open cashier lines and semi-vacant aisles. Myka examined her list before instructing her shopping partner of what they needed.
"We need to go past produce and bakery. There are a few things your mom wants us to pick up."
"Like what?"
"Um… pasta, zucchini, a few spices, and five apples. Also, a bottle of red wine which I'm assuming she left up to my poor expertise as she doesn't specify what kind."
Christina stood beside the cart like a reluctant guard. Her hands went to her hips and she demanded, "Since when does my mother need help shopping? Are you her lapdog now?"
Myka sighed, and went with the simplest of answers. "She's busy. Her students need her until 3:30." She gave the girl a sympathetic smile and added, "The sooner we get this list done the sooner we can grab a snack and go home. You do want a snack, don't you? I think there's a frozen yogurt place just a few blocks from here."
"Bribery is not your forte, Myka."
There was an eye roll, but Myka detected a slight crack in her resolve at the mention of a snack.
Kids and their snack time. If I had known it was this easy I would have proposed it sooner.
"Our milk has expired at home," Christina informed in a neutral tone, "so I will fetch a half gallon."
Without waiting for a response from the adult she stomped off to the dairy department.
"Kids," Myka mumbled lightly.
Ten minutes later and Myka had yet to bump into Christina. She didn't think anything of it, citing the girl's need for privacy and a little distance. Running through her grocery list it seemed like just about everything had been checked off. Everything but the milk.
"Help! Someone help!"
Brunette hair whirled to Myka's turn, her ears picking up the shout. She looked up and down the cereal aisle but there was no upset customer in sight.
"Call an ambulance! This girl can't breathe!"
Myka recalled her charge's asthma condition and gasped.
Christina.
Boots clapped the pristine floor as Myka sprinted down the aisle, rounded the corner, and headed towards the commotion, not slowing down for anything or anyone. Her list was left forgotten on the floor, any customer in her way got pushed unapologetically to the side. When she got to the scene a middle aged woman and a store employee were kneeling beside a black haired child. Cans of soup littered the floor around them; probably a result of the collapse. The girl's chest was moving, but slowly and her eyes were shut. Sweat formed on her little forehead and her face was sheet white.
"Christina!" Myka cried, sliding down to the floor and grabbing the wheezing body by the shoulders. All the times she had returned Myka's kindness with spite and resentful mutterings, Christina remained unresponsive, not a single argumentative bone in her body. She was just a scared little girl who wanted to breathe.
"Is this your daughter, ma'am?" the clerk asked, noticing Myka's distraught state.
"No, she's my friend's daughter." Forgoing an additional explanation her fingers went to the child's neck. Feeling around for a pulse, Myka sucked in a steady breath of her own despite a spike in adrenaline. She had to remain calm. Calm was good. Calm was how a mother acted.
But I'm not a mother.
There was a pulse, but it was weak. Christina was gasping then, lips mumbling without words on them.
"Don't speak, child." The older woman patted the girl's shoulder and nodded with sound advice. "Focus on breathing."
Myka's hands flew to her purse and rummaged for the object. She had spent so much time around Christina and Emily that, knowing of the girl's condition and her absent-mindedness, took it upon herself to carry a back-up plan.
When she found the inhaler she used one hand to cup the back of Christina's head and support her up to take the medication. Her fingers slipped through her black curls and Myka almost broke down into tears at how soft they were.
Please don't die on me, sweetheart. Be the stubborn girl you are and BREATHE.
Pinpricks of tears escaped from the corners of the girl's brown eyes. At that moment Myka realized how similar they were to Emily's. She saw the wall break down around her wheezing body, those big brown eyes widening in fear and begging for help regardless of the hatred she harbored for the woman. Myka felt her own tears falling and wiped them away quickly before Christina could see them. She had to stay strong.
After prepping the device with a good shake she held it to the discolored lips. "You know what to do, sweetheart. Just breathe in as usual." Myka's voice broke at the end, but thankfully the device was still firmly in her grip.
Christina gave a nod. She parted her dry lips and took pains to breathe in slowly as Myka pressed the inhaler. After a few minutes of synchronized breaths the creases around Christina's eyes eased, the tears stopped, her pain abated. The small hand atop her chest unclenched from the material of her shirt.
Myka breathed out herself upon seeing the color flowing back to the girl's face. She checked her pulse again to find it even and stronger than before. Myka sighed with relief. The employee was long gone, having acquired a case of squeamishness, but the old lady who found Christina stayed beside Myka like an ever watchful angel.
"The paramedics are on their way," spoke the manager.
Could have called them sooner, asshole.
Though Christina hadn't spoken a word, Myka took the girl in her arms and pressed her close to her chest. There was no struggle, no defiance or refusal. She would never have dared touch the girl this way before, but considering what Christina went through… well, if Myka had almost suffered from lack of oxygen she would want to be hugged. She would want to know someone was there to protect her.
No argument came from Christina so Myka just held her and rubbed a soothing hand to the small back. When she felt the little arms curling around her waist Myka gasped softly. When she heard her name being rasped against her neck the voice sounded defeated, tired, and ashamed. A cold nose poked against her collarbone and Myka shushed the girl and began rocking her slowly, softly like a child all her own.
The older woman rose to her feet, brushed down her skirt and placed a gentle hand on Myka's shoulder. "You may not be this girl's mother, miss, but she is lucky to have you."
The hand patted once more before retracting with the fleeting form of the Good Samaritan. For the first time in her life Myka smiled at the thought of motherhood. She pressed her lips to Christina's warm forehead. She stayed with her like that until the paramedics took over.
Crisp autumn days passed and so did Christina's resentment. No longer were her words short or her grudge enduring. Her stubbornness came to a head as Emily predicted, and Myka ceased to be a target of jealousy. The incident at the grocery store prompted an understanding between the both of them, and since then Christina and Myka had developed a friendship based on trust and affection.
When Emily was tied up at work Myka was always her first call. From school Myka would take Christina on various errands which always ended at the local frozen yogurt shop. They would talk of much, including their similar interests in opera and the works of Verdi. After a few dinners at Myka's, Christina finally scrounged up the courage to ask the woman for lessons in cooking. Now Emily and her daughter were invited over earlier on every Wednesday and Saturday. Christina had flown past the basics of food preparation with the help of Myka's patience and respectable talents, while Emily sipped her wine in the background, watching the two girls converse and work together like old friends.
Seeing the change in Christina and how good Myka was with her transformed something in Emily Something peculiar that she couldn't name or put her finger on stirred within her. This new, undisclosed feeling challenged everything she once thought about relationships and parenting. It warped her image of Myka from the woman she was to the woman she wanted to be now. When Emily saw Myka with Christina she knew the other woman's opinion of children was changing. Myka had always been warm and kind towards the girl, but now that they shared a camaraderie unimpeded by resentment her blind attitude towards motherhood, in general, seemed to be opening its horizons.
Now, Emily had expectations.
She buttoned the top button of her jacket to keep the cold autumn night at bay. Settling in beside Myka at the picnic table, she allowed herself a moment of anxiety before her intentions were realized. That night, she would share her expectations with her friend and hope for something similar in return.
Bullocks, why am I scared shaken?
Blaming the sudden shiver on the weather, Emily bumped her shoulder against the brunette's.
"This was a good idea," Myka commented. Her breath was a fog, rolling in the wind. "I thought it would be too cold out here, but the music really helps."
Emily beheld at the woman in her relaxed state. "A pleasurable distraction."
Myka had never been to Jazz in the Park. She was not one for listening to music outdoors, but with Emily there and being in Chicago made it all the more special. Jazz was about as synonymous with Chicago as the pyramids were with Egypt.
With their backs supported by the edge of the picnic table the two women watched the performance from their hill perch. The stage was lit and visible from afar, its music and crowd applause drifting effortlessly into the air. Soulful tones paired with the deliberate syncopation of notes from high to low made the fusion pleasing to the ears.
Myka tipped her head and closed her eyes. "This is nice," she whispered almost in a daze.
Struck by cowardice in the face of the woman's beauty, Emily turned back to the stage. "Yes, it is."
"How is your novel coming along? It's been some time since you last updated me."
"Oh, that," Emily muttered. Her shoulders sagged at the thought of her pet project. "Progress has been slow. My students have kept me interminably occupied and inspiration comes sporadically if not at all."
"Writer's block?"
"Indeed."
"Have you picked out names for your characters yet? I know how you like to save those details for the end, but maybe it will help you gain momentum?"
"Not yet. I want designations no one has ever heard before. Something elusive and alien." Elbows planted on the table behind her, she leaned back and turned her eyes to the stars. Her novel was like her child, but unlike responsible Christina her story depended on her constant attentions. Ideas for how to spin her tale gave birth in her mind at the most random moments. Spinning these tales may be a hobby to some, but to Emily it was her life's work. After a study of the constellations she concluded, "It will come to me one day. My characters and their plots have a way of creeping up on me when I least expect them."
"You'll let me read it one day, right? I can't stand you holding such a remarkable novel hostage."
"Prying eyes will be satisfied, to be sure. But you will have to fight Christina for principal viewing rights."
"I would have thought as your friend I already earned those rights," Myka scoffed. She smirked playfully.
"The test of true loyalty has yet to come."
"Oh? What do I have to do to gain some privileges as Emily Lake's friend?"
"Well," Emily's brow furrowed as she contemplated for the woman's benefit, "I suppose the first one who supplies a name to one of my characters will receive bragging rights and a first-hand look at chapter one."
"But if there was a test…" Myka turned to her fully, a flash of apprehension overcoming her humor, "… what would it entail?"
Emily almost reeled back. Her apprehension mirrored the brunette's. "Myka, I wasn't serious. You are my friend, truly. There is no test, and if there was you already passed – with flying colors no doubt."
"Uh… right. I guess I just got ahead of myself. Forget I said anything."
Myka looked away, her straight dark hair covering her rosy cheeks. Emily did the same, running a hand through her hair and forcing her eyes to the jazz scene below. She breathed in and then out. Her hot breath came out in puffs, clouding in the chilly air and dissipating in the wind. It was so silent – silent of words, but deafening in music and thoughts. Emily knew she should speak up and say what was on her mind. This was the time to reveal her expectations, her desires.
Why am I so terrified? It never used to be this problematic.
At the risk of admitting how new this experience actual was despite her assertion to the contrary, Emily dug her nails into the wood of the picnic table as a distraction. Several deep breaths and a half song later, Emily straightened and came out with it.
"Myka, I have something to ask of you."
"Mm?"
Emily's thought process stalled at the sight of green, expectant eyes.
Does she look hopeful? Or is that just me projecting? Oh, I'm going to butcher this.
"Emily?"
Mouth still open Emily blinked, her words fighting to become one with the air. A hand laid over hers and she felt the shock of warmth spread across her skin. The courage she sought came to her in a generous wave, its comfort sparking her nerves to action. She tingled as she once did from their first meeting. Somehow, Emily felt invincible upon Myka's touch. It was unexplainable. It was inspiring.
The air changed then, but not as either of them anticipated. Out of nowhere the silhouette of a figure – a woman – revealed itself. The ominous stranger approached, making noiseless strides across the lawn until it stopped before Myka and Emily. The lamplight finally exposed the face of the dark woman wearing glasses and hair fashioned in coiffed braids.
Emily gasped at the appearance of their visitor, and clutched her heart in panic at the words spoken.
"Hello, H.G. It has certainly been a long time."