Nikki furrowed her brow and spent a moment in contemplation. “I don’t know…”
“Leah has to sleep somewhere, right? Even when she’s in Tartarus?”
The creases on Nikki’s brow deepened. “I guess.”
“So she definitely has a bed just like yours, made of demonic wood… just like your own bed.” Vincent pointed at the closet. “Wanna help me bring all the planks out? We’ve got to put them down so that I can get your mattress set up. Your very demonic mattress.”
“Okay,” Nikki chirped. She ducked back into the closet and came back out dragging all four slats at once. Her narrow arms were locked around the wood like she was trying to embrace it. Her efforts knocked her off balance, and she stumbled, uncertain with her footing.
Vincent rushed over and took the slats from her before she could hurt herself or damage their new house. “Whoa! I didn’t mean you had to bring them out all at once, sweet stuff. One at a time would have been fine. They’re heavy.”
“They’re not heavy!” Nikki protested. “If I’m gonna grow up to be strong like Leah, then I’ve gotta practice! I could’ve carried them.”
“How about we start demon training in a couple of days, once the house is unboxed?” Vincent set the slats against the wall, then selected the first one and laid it in place. “There are some great parks not all that far from the house with monkey bars. If there’s one thing that’ll make you strong, it’s making your way from one end of those things to the other. How does that sound?”
“Okay.” Nikki came to stand by the foot of the bed. “Dad?”
“What’s up?” Vincent set another slat down. The mattress was propped against the wall in the hall outside Nikki’s door. Once he got it into the room and situated on the slats, he’d just need to make the bed, then see Nikki off to sleep.
“Did Mommy make you leave?”
Vincent parted his lips, but he found he had nothing to say. Nikki frowned.
“I just mean… I know she isn’t nice to you all the time.”
“Your mom didn’t make me leave,” Vincent stressed. “Your mom never would have done that.”
The reassurance didn’t put Nikki at ease. She stared at her feet, twisting one of them back and forth nervously. “I don’t think she means to be mean,” she murmured. “She just isn’t so good with understanding that different people need different things to be happy.”
Nikki was not yet six—how was it that she’d seen into the situation so astutely? Vincent had done his best to keep the truth from her, and while Melissa was a little less subtle, he knew that she hadn’t meant Nikki any harm, either. They’d kept their arguments behind closed doors and their hard feelings to themselves.
At least, Vincentthoughtthat they had.
Based on what Nikki was saying, it seemed like they hadn’t kept their problems with each other so subtle after all.
The bed wasn’t functional, so Vincent sat on the carpeted floor. He patted the space beside him, and Nikki sank down briskly and brushed her shirt so it lay flat over her leggings. Her brown hair fell over her shoulders, straight and luminous. Vincent reached over and tucked it behind her ear, then offered her a reassuring smile. “It’s hard when things change, isn’t it?”
Nikki said nothing. She looked away.
“I know that it’s not easy to have your parents separate, and I’m so proud of you for being strong even when it’s hard to be.”
“I’m strong,” Nikki mumbled. She played with the hem of her skirt, picking at a loose thread. “You’re strong, too. We’rewarriors,just like Leah.”
“Just like Leah,” Vincent affirmed. “But your mom is a warrior, too.”
Nikki looked up at him, confused.
“Your mom has been struggling with the same feelings that you and I have. She feels hurt, and sad, and upset, and she’s had to be strong to make it through just like we have. But sometimes, it’s hard being strong, isn’t it?”
Nikki nodded mournfully.
“And it’s hard for your mom, too, even though she’s fearsome. After a while, when you’re fighting so hard, you start to get tired, and sometimes you start to give in. If your mom ever said a mean thing about me, it’s only because she’s tired from being strong for so long. Sometimes, we say things we don’t mean, or that aren’t nice, when we’re tired. That doesn’t mean that what she said was good, but I want you to know that your mom isn’t a bad person. She’s just tired, sweet stuff. She’s tired of being strong, just like we are.”
Nikki pursed her lips, but she lifted her head to look at him, which Vincent thought was a good sign.
“She just doesn’t understand,” Nikki murmured. “She doesn’t want to see things like you do. It’s like Leah’s mom, and how she doesn’t understand Leah.”
“You got it.” Vincent smiled and ruffled her hair. Nikki scrunched her nose at him and swatted at his hand, then smoothed her hair in an attempt to undo the mess he’d made of it. “So what do we do when we see someone is struggling?”
