Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I don’t even blink at her language. It’s called for in this situation. “I don’t blame you. You should be pissed off. And hurt?”
She nods, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly but her eyes stay dry.
“Confused?”
Another nod. “I don’t want her to come back from Singapore. I don’t want to see her anymore.”
I give her a slightly chastising smile. “You don’t mean that. But I get that you’re probably angry enough right now that you’d like to distance yourself.”
She’s trying to protect herself.
“Why is she doing this?” Bowie Jane asks, anger coating every word. “What mother does this?”
“I don’t know, honey. I really wish I did because I’d love to give you answers to help you process. I only know we can’t control what she does, but we can control how we react to it and how we choose to handle it. I think you’re still figuring out what that means and I’m really proud of you for being so strong. But it’s okay to have vulnerable moments too. I’m here for you.”
“Me too,” Mazzy says, putting her arm around Bowie Jane’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze.
Bowie Jane smiles back at her gratefully and asks, “Is your mom nice?”
“My mom is the coolest and very nice, although when she gets mad, she’s a bit scary. I’ll take you over some time to meet her and the rest of my family.”
Bowie Jane picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza and examines it before putting it in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. Her eyes then come to me. “I think I’d like to take a bit of a break from Mom. Do I have to talk to her if she calls?”
Man, that’s a tough question. As an adult, I can say fuck Sandra and cut her out, but I can’t tell my child to do that. “I say you play that by ear and let’s see how you feel when she calls again, okay?”
Bowie Jane nods but then looks to Mazzy. “What do you think?”
Mazzy’s eyes widen with surprise and she looks to me in question, not wanting to overstep. Weirdly, I trust whatever advice Mazzy would give because even though she’s not a parent, she probably knows children far better than I do. On top of that, she’s a genuinely nice, caring, thoughtful human being.
I give her a slight nod.
Mazzy turns to Bowie Jane, angling in the booth. “I can’t tell you what to do. All I can do is tell you what I do when someone makes me mad, lets me down in some way, or hurts my feelings.” Her words are soft, lilting, but so confident you just know she’s going to drop a wisdom nugget. My daughter is riveted and frankly, so am I. “I give grace.”
Bowie Jane’s brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you show kindness, forgiveness, understanding, or compassion to someone, especially when it’s not really deserved or expected. It doesn’t mean you can’t be angry or hurt. It only means that you choose to recognize that people are imperfect at times, but that you are also choosing to deal with it in a way that values kindness over judgment.”
Holy fuck. I’m not sure if Bowie Jane really understood all that. I mean, she probably did because she’s super smart and intuitive, but that’s actually really good advice.
Not good advice for me. Sandra’s pretty much on my shit list permanently, but it’s great advice to a kid who is struggling with ugly feelings about her mom. Mazzy is saying all the right words so that Bowie Jane doesn’t make harsh decisions she might later regret, and at the same time teaching her good values.
I could kiss her for it. I mean, really kiss her. In a way that would start out as a thank-you but then probably evolve into something that had nothing to do with gratitude.
Rubbing my hand over my jaw, I look at Mazzy smiling down at Bowie Jane. In a matter of days, this woman has made my child feel safe and secure, she has lit us both up with happiness and has stirred things in me as a man that are wholly inappropriate.
I think I’m truly fucked.
CHAPTER 14
Mazzy
I’m not sure what it is about the monotony of cutting up vegetables and fruit, but I rather enjoy the repetitive motion which allows my thoughts to drift. I love to see where they’ll go and what they’ll focus on when they have no greater burden than just making sure I don’t lop off my finger. Often when I get into this headspace, I’ll make up song lyrics or envision the musical notes on a scale imagining how my fingers would dance across piano keys or pluck at my guitar strings to play them.
With a quick glance at the kitchen clock, I see that I have at least an hour until I have to leave to get Bowie Jane from school. Foster is currently at practice and will be home around six p.m. That gives me plenty of time to finish food prep, have dinner ready for him and Bowie Jane, and then I’ll jet out of here.