Angie did her best to stay quiet and agreeable the rest of the morning.
Anything that reminded her of the permanent pit in her stomach she pushed aside in favor of making a good impression with her dad. He couldn't bring her mom back, so what good was it to start crying when she was hit with waves of how much she missed her? Too often people would get uncomfortable when she cried and offered empty sympathies or promises. Better to cry alone.
With that in mind, after the whole mess she'd made of everything yesterday and in light of the secret worry that Scott was going to change his mind about her, Angie decided she needed to keep it together. No tears. Her dad was tough and so were all his friends. She'd heard stories from kids at school with tough fathers. They talked once about things their dads said to them whenever they cried, and she'd seen lots of movies where big tough dads told kids not to cry and to suck it up. She was lucky he'd been so patient about her meltdown last night and there was no telling if he'd be as kind a second time. There was no way she wanted any of them to see her cry. If she started she didn't think she could stop again and that wouldn't go well. She was sure of it.
Playing the part of a warrior princess instead, Angie fancied herself hard and unshakable in the face of impossible odds. She was Merida, Princess of Clan Dunbroch, and her family depended on her to stay brave and save them all from the demon bear. In this case the bear was that sickening pit in her stomach and the insidious threat of bursting into tears at any second, but it seemed just as vital.
Opening the book from her mom had made it all worse.
The moment she did and started to read it, she missed her mom with aching passion. The only thing that saved her from bursting into tears was the shock of seeing her dad and Uncle Sonny 'fighting' each other on padded flooring. The way they knocked each other down and the way her dad seemed to effortlessly lift up the other big man, slamming him down onto the floor, unsettled Angie greatly at the same time as sending a shiver of admiration through her. In turn watching them reminded her of Brave and the fight between the bears, which then brought her back to her game of being a strong, warrior princess.
It worked perfectly the whole way through her dad letting her see different parts of the base, especially after meeting Cerberus and talking to Uncle Brock. She managed to keep it up when he took her shopping for food too. The crowning achievement was when she kept an unruffled expression when he mentioned needing to leave her with Aunt Naima for the afternoon while he went to a few meetings and took care of some 'boring adult stuff'.
And that led her to now. Walking up the pathway to the door of Uncle Ray and Aunt Naima's house just behind her dad and pretending she didn't have a terrible twisting in her stomach. The idea of him suddenly leaving her for a few hours brought unexpected panic that sat heavy on her chest. Part of her wanted to beg him to let her come, but she'd promised herself she wouldn't act like a baby or cry or cause trouble, so she didn't.
"Come in, come in!" Aunt Naima opened the door before her dad had a chance to knock. "Angie! It's wonderful to see you again!"
Angie forced a smile before ducking her head. A lump rose up from her chest into her throat seconds later.
No. Keep it together. Conceal. Don't feel!
"It'll just be the two of us for a little bit, Angie. Jameelah is still at school and RJ insisted that he wanted to go to daycare today, so I let him. Ray should be picking him up on his way home from work." Naima took her jacket and hung it up. "Scott? Are you coming in for a bit, or do you have to get going."
"I should get on the road." Her dad said, not coming past the threshold of the house. He fixed his gaze on Angie and right away the floor became very interesting to her. "Angie, I'll be back in a few hours."
"What time's the meeting with the lawyer?" Naima asked, putting a comforting hand on Angie's shoulder and nearly breaking the poor girl right then and there.
"Two, but it's the other side of town so I gotta get going." Scott cast an almost worried look at Angie before taking a deep breath and nodding to Naima, saying quietly, "Take care of my girl."
And then he was gone.
The words, however, lingered. They pounded in Angie's ears in time with her heartbeat.
My girl.
Mommy used to call her that.
"Angie, sweetheart? How are you doing?" Naima was looking at her with that universal 'mom' expression and Angie felt all control snap like a twig.
Tears sprang to the surface instantly and much to Angie's horror, she started to cry. Lost and a little frightened by the sudden explosion of emotions, Angie gave a desperate whimper between sobs and wordlessly pleaded for something that she couldn't describe.
Naima read her cry for help easily and wrapped her in her arms tenderly. "Shhhh…it's ok. Just let it out, honey. I've got you. It's all been a lot, hasn't it, and you've been so brave…let it out, sweetie. I've got you."
Angie couldn't say a word as the crushing wave of grief, exhaustion and feelings of being overwhelmed coursed through her in the wake of her dad leaving. She didn't notice until right now how much she'd started to cling to his presence for a sense of safety and yet she couldn't relax or let go of herself with him near creating a frustrating paradox inside her.
"You can talk to me, if you want, Angie, or you can just cry and know that you're safe and loved here. I'm not letting you go until you tell me to and you feel strong enough to face things again."
Nodding because it felt rude not to respond somehow, Angie kept sobbing quietly into the front of the woman holding her. In some ways it did help to let it out, where in others it was a bitter reminder that her mother was gone because this woman knew how to hold her the way that mommy used to when she needed a hug. Regardless, Angie cried for a good fifteen minutes without saying a word.
When she finished, Angie stayed still, forehead pressed against Naima and she whispered, "Thank you. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Angie. Anytime you need a hug, or to talk, or anything at all, I'm here, ok?"
Sniffing, Angie nodded and they pulled apart. She didn't really want to talk right now, but maybe someday she would and it felt good knowing someone as nice as Aunt Naima would be there.
"Let's get you some water and a cool cloth. It'll feel nice on your face."
Angie followed, eyeing her surroundings with half interest. She supposed she would be here fairly often since her dad would have to go away a lot.
More tears threatened to surface at that thought. Angie didn't want him to leave for days, possibly weeks at a time.
The next hour and a half Angie followed Naima around the house, learning where things were, seeing where she would sleep whenever she needed to stay with them. She even had her own drawer and a shelf for her own things when the time came.
Aunt Naima was wonderful. She talked without expecting Angie to reply, but not in a way that made Angie feel like it didn't matter if she was there or not.
Two and a half hours in, Angie was in the cozy corner of the playroom reading a new book off the shelf called Black Beauty . She heard the front door open and the voice of another girl filled the air as she greeted her mother. The voice fell into hushed tones for a few minutes before there was silence.
Angie tried to ignore it and read, but her heart was thundering when she heard Jameelah approaching the playroom.
She knew this girl wanted to be friends, or at least Aunt Naima had said she did. Angie wanted to make a friend for social security at school, but didn't trust herself to make a new friend right now. What if she said something wrong? She wasn't great company either. What if Jameelah didn't like her?
The other girl appeared around the corner and entered the room hesitantly.
Angie set her book aside and rose from her seat, hoping to put her best foot forward and not wanting to look too at home in another girl's playroom without her permission.
"Hi." Angie mumbled, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot and trying not to stare. The other girl was really pretty and had a kind air around her.
"Hello, I'm Jameelah." The dark haired girl held out her hand solemnly, but without an ounce of intimidation around her.
"I'm Angie."
They clasped hands and shook seriously. An adult watching might have thought it was cute and funny, but it seemed the right thing to do, so they did.
"I- I know you're really sad right now and maybe don't want to do very much…cause you lost your mom?" Jameelah's face took on an earnest and utterly empathetic expression.
It was so sincere that Angie didn't feel the slightest stirring of anger over it and instead it made a lump rise in her throat again.
"Yeah. She got really sick, and she died."
Jameelah nodded solemnly and said, "I wish that hadn't happened to you, and I hope we can be friends so that maybe, when you don't feel so sad, I can help keep you company and have fun again."
Again, the words were so sincere that Angie didn't feel the same fury she had when her old classmates at school gave their condolences at the funeral a few days ago.
"Thank you," Angie said, looking at her feet. "I think I'd like that."
"And…I…well…mommy and daddy said we'd been living together sometimes, and sharing a room, kind of like sisters, so I thought that maybe I should tell you that…" Jameelah frowned and looked at the ground too, not sure of her next words but still filled with genuine empathy rather than sympathy. "I know a mom can never ever be replaced, but…we could share my mom, if you want. I won't mind if you need her sometimes."
It was like the floor just vanished from under her and Angie felt like she couldn't breath.
That was probably the nicest thing anyone had offered her, and she was grateful beyond words, yet it still managed to slice her to the core.
Biting quivering lips, Angie whispered, "Thank you!"
"W-would you like to paint your nails with me?" Jameelah asked, clasping her hands tightly and studying her with big, earnest eyes.
Wanting to show that she was truly grateful for the generosity of her new friend, even if it cut deeply into her soul, Angie nodded as she swallowed down the emotions again.
By four o'clock, Angie and Jameelah had painted their nails, played a board game and then settled in the two bean bag chairs to read until dinner.
They conversed with some nervousness and awkwardness, but Jameelah seemed to accept that Angie was tired and quiet. She did most of the talking. Angie liked hearing her talk and gained all kinds of important information about the school she would be going to and their class. She knew that Sarah VanSklyic was the queen of the class and to stay out of her way or the 'popular' girls would make her life miserable. She knew that their teacher was really really nice and that her name was Ms. Finch. Jameelah told her there were two other girls that she played with, Lilly and Autumn. She told her all about their Uncles, Uncle Jason's kids, Emma and Mikey, and the fun that came at BBQ's. Jameelah was hopeful that Angie would come to the BBQ on the weekend, but she didn't pressure.
For the most part Angie just listened, only getting truly drawn into conversation when Jameelah mentioned Cerberus and Uncle Brock. For about ten minutes Angie felt excited as she talked about the dog and all the kinds of dogs she liked. Jameelah was just as eager to find common ground and expressed the desire for her own dog someday.
When it was clear Angie was getting more tired and less engaged, Jameelah suggested they read and she offered some of her favorite books for Angie to borrow. Angie was glad to find the other girl seemed to love reading and the kinds of books she did.
At 4:45pm Angie was trying not to watch the clock and to enjoy Jameelah's top pick for her, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe . Angie had never read it, but she remembered mommy saying once it was an exciting story and that it had been on the enormous floor to ceiling bookshelf at home.
From where she sat she could just see the living room and her ears were trained for the door.
"Uncle Scott!"
Jameelah's cry brought Angie's head up from the book and she watched with stunned fascination as the other girl tore across the room and out into the living room to literally leap into Scott's arms with a squeal. Angie didn't know how he'd come into the house without her hearing and had no idea how long he'd been there.
Scott laughed a little, his whole face softening as he caught Jameelah and greeted her.
"How was your day? Mine was good! Angie and I played for a bit after we painted our nails, but then we wanted to read, so we've been reading books together," Jameelah asked, talking a mile a minute. "Are you staying for dinner? Can Angie and I go to the Aquarium some time? Would you take us? You always have the best stories about the ocean!"
Angie could hardly believe the nerve of the girl, pestering him with so many rapid fire questions and sitting happily in his arms with her own clasped around his neck. There wasn't an ounce of fear in her and looking closely at her dad, Angie sensed a complete lack of the carefulness he used when around her. He was warm, but his tone was growly and gruff with affection laced through it. It seemed more natural than the gentler, smoother tone he used with her.
There was an uncomfortable shift in Angie as she watched the pair converse, compounded by her tiredness and complicated feelings surrounding her dad.
Jealousy reared its ugly along with deep seeded longing for what she saw. She suddenly hated that Jameelah had that sort of trust and relationship with her dad and she didn't. She hated that they were strangers to each other and that she'd never known him from a young age. She also hated that she was suddenly so mad at both of them for having something special like that after her new friend had worked so hard to make her feel welcome.
It made her head hurt.
Uncle Ray appeared shortly after and Jameelah was squirming down from her Uncle Scott's arms with another happy cry of, "Daddy!"
With Jameelah passed on to her own dad, Angie realized her dad was now looking at her and that her envious expression wasn't schooled at all.
Hurriedly, she slumped down into the comfy chair and pretended to be absorbed in her book.
Heat pulsed in her cheeks when she saw him approaching through the playroom out of the corner of her eye and she panicked because she was still mad for some reason.
His shadow fell over her even as he crouched next to her, cutting his height in half.
"Do you want to stay for dinner, or should we head home." He asked quietly and carefully.
Angie knew the polite thing would be to stay for dinner, and she didn't want Jameelah to think she didn't like her, but Angie also had this horrible feeling like she was going to explode again like she had with Auntie Naima earlier, only it would be worse this time.
"Angie." Two fingers hooked the top of her book and tugged it down gently, alerting her to the fact she still had it raised and had been staring at it. "Would you like to stay or go."
Braving the quickest glance at him, because she was both angry with him for no reason and nervous of him again, Angie mumbled truthfully, "I don't know."
He stayed quiet for a moment and Angie could feel his calculating, steely stare.
"Ok. Let's head home. You'll see lots of them in the coming weeks."
The tangled cord of anger in her chest loosened with that decision and Angie had to blink tears of relief. She hid it by picking up the books Jameelah gave her to borrow. Once Black Beauty, Anne of Green Gables, and Prince Caspian were in her hands, she met her dad's steady gaze and got a horrible feeling he knew how close she was to falling apart. The worst part was she wanted to break down then and there. She wanted him to know she was angry, and tired, and frustrated and hollow inside. She also wanted him to know she was unbelievably relieved he came back for her and that the anchor point his presence provided was back.
But, tough men didn't cry. Tough girls didn't cry either, Angie supposed, and if he was going to want to keep her, she had to prove she was tough…right?
The ride home was quiet. Both of them appeared lost in their own little world and Angie didn't know what to say to the brooding man in the driver seat, nor did she want to speak.
Aunt Naima sent dinner home with them, so they ate almost as soon as they got back to the house.
She hardly touched her food and when she couldn't pretend to be eating anymore, she set her fork down and looked at her glass of water (it was begging to be smashed onto the floor). She was thirsty, but the idea of drinking too much water this late in the evening made her worry about wetting the bed again. Better to wait till the morning.
"Could I go to bed, please." She asked, picking a place on the wooden table to look rather than at her dad. They'd hardly conversed over the course of the hour since he'd picked her up.
"Yes." Scott answered quietly. "Go get ready and brush your teeth, then come find me when you're done, please."
Angie didn't love the idea of that and the request made her stomach do a flip. Still, she couldn't get a read on what sort of mood he was in when he'd hardly spoken and her anger with him had long since dissipated into numbness so she did as she was told.
When she came out of her room to find him he was waiting for her on the couch. He had his arms resting on his knees, fingers laced together and there was a deep set furrow between his brows until she approached.
"Come and sit, Angie."
She took her spot at the end of the couch and tucked her feet under her.
"Sorry I had to leave you this afternoon." Scott said, studying his hands as he spoke and then looking up at the blank TV. "It was really important that I go to those meetings and I would have taken you with me if I could have."
Nodding, Angie bit her lips to keep from crying.
"It's ok. Aunt Naima's really nice and I like Jameelah." Angie offered in return because she had a sense of uncertainty from the man sitting at the other end of the couch.
Her dad hummed in agreement.
"They are pretty great, aren't they." Scott unlaced and laced his fingers again after making a motion that looked like he wanted to crack his knuckles but thought better of it. Drawing a long breath, he said quietly, "So…when I was a little older than you, I lost my dad. He died really suddenly and I remember what it felt like to have the world torn out from under me. Unlike you, I wasn't much of a reader at the time, but after we lost dad my mom started reading to us before bed. I started to read more because of it, on my own, but even then mom would still read to my sister and I every night for years. It helped me not feel so alone before going to sleep with the hurt of losing dad."
There was a string that tugged deep in Angie's heart as he spoke and she believed him when he said he understood. It wasn't so much what he said to her that made her believe him, but how he said it.
"You do not need to accept this offer, Angie, but I am asking you to consider letting me read to you before you go to bed at night." Her dad was looking up at the blank TV screen again and unbeknown to her he was watching her reaction in the reflection. "You don't have to decide now, but, think about it."
Angie stayed quiet for a few minutes, taking it in. Somehow the idea of her dad being a child like her and losing a parent made him less intimidating than he'd been for the last two days. Then there was that desperate need driving her to try to be as perfect a child as possible so that he would keep her. Letting him read to her wasn't such a bad thing and it seemed like it might be important to him, so Angie was leaning towards being on the verge of accepting.
Then that image of Jameelah leaping with a squeal into her dad's arms and the interaction between them surfaced in her mind and Angie realized that having him read to her was probably as close to that kind of relationship as she was going to get.
Oh, how she ached inside when she thought of Jameelah in his arms. Quickly following that was the picture of Jameelah with Uncle Ray. That reminded her that they had everything she ever dreamed of when wishing for a dad over the years. She wanted to be there, fearless and confident in her dad's care for her, but she couldn't. They hardly knew each other, after all and-
"Angie, you're pretty quiet. Wanna share what's going on in that head of yours?"
Jerking out of her spin into dismal resignation, Angie knew she couldn't honestly answer that question, so she blurted, "What would you read?"
A tiny smile twitched around his mouth and he shrugged, "What do you think we should read?"
Thinking of how much A Little Princess made her feel understood and want to cry all at once, Angie knew any story like that was out of the question.
Without further pause, she heard herself say, "Something that won't make me cry."
If her answer surprised him, Scott didn't show it. He nodded slowly, considering before saying, "You're reading a Narnia book right now. How do you feel about another world of magic and quests?"
"I like magical stories, and adventures." Angie told him. Mommy had been more into science fiction, crime and mystery stories, so she'd been on her own looking for stories about far off magical lands and exciting quests.
"Ever read The Hobbit ?"
Tilting her head and throwing off her guard, Angie asked, "What's a Hobbit?"
Her dad's face shifted from serious stone to light triumph as he rose from the couch.
"I'll be right back."
Angie couldn't help watching like she had last night as he disappeared into his room. There was more curiosity tonight rather than anxiety. Like before, he paused on the way back and detoured into her room, returning with a book, one of her pillows, Russel and the plush blanket from the foot of her bed.
Wordless, Scott motioned with his head for her to scoot down a bit from the end of the couch and when she did he placed the pillow, handed her Russel and tossed the blanket over her.
"Thank you." She murmured, hugging the stuffed dog under her chin. Part of her had wanted to bring Russel out of her room with her after she got ready for bed, but she'd been worried about seeming like a baby.
"Get comfy." Her dad ordered mildly as he settled at the other end of the couch again. "This story is a classic and the author was good friends with the same guy who wrote The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. "
Interest properly peaked now, Angie snuggled down with the blanket and asked, "Really?"
"Uh huh." Looking at her with less of a blank mask than he'd been wearing all evening, Scott asked, "Do you want me to tell you what this one is about, or should I just start reading?"
Peering at the cover of the book Angie asked, "Are there dragons?"
"Every good story has a dragon." Her dad told her.
"What else is there?"
"Dwarves, a mountain of gold. A wizard, elves, goblins and a man who can turn into a bear and a hobbit."
"What's a hobbit?" Angie asked again.
"Should we find out?" Her dad asked, the lines lifting further from his face as he watched her with a growing smirk.
Nodding with more eagerness than she'd shown all day, Angie waited as he opened the book and started to read.
For one brief second Angie worried he wouldn't be good at reading aloud, however those fears went out the window the moment he started to speak.
"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."
His timber resonated each word clearly and calmly, yet with enough life that Angie wanted to hear what would come next. Within minutes everything in the world faded away and there was nothing but the plush blanket, the pillow under her head, her doggie and the voice leading her deeper into the world of Bilbo Baggins.
The longer her dad read, the more that careful, smooth tone he used with her slipped away and Angie could almost hear him getting swept into the story too with the way his natural voice took over at times. The more she heard it, the more Angie found that she didn't mind it so much. After all, if Jameelah could have him growl at her like a bear while chattering fearlessly to him in his arms, surely Angie could get used to hints of it while he read to her.
Her eyes slid shut at one point and the voice paused.
"Do you want me to keep reading or would you like to go to bed? I'm fine with either."
Unwilling to move and not wanting to break the magic spell that was keeping her from remembering how miserable she was inside, Angie forced her eyes open again and said, "I'm not tired."
They both knew she was lying, and yet her dad played along anyway.
"Ok. Just making sure."
He picked up where he'd left off and Angie let herself get carried away again.
Just as the Trolls got turned to stone, Angie's eyes slammed shut and stayed shut. Hoping her dad didn't notice, she kept listening until there were gaps in her memory of what was going on in the story and the steady timber lulled her into slumber.
For the first time in weeks Angie didn't cry herself to sleep and she didn't feel so alone.