“How is she with Zoey?”
“Great, actually. Zoey seems to like her, and the feeling is mutual with Skylar. Skylar is young and full of energy, which Zoey responds to.”
“But you’re still determined to have her move out? Even if she’s already bonding with Zoey?”
I inwardly sigh. “I think that’s best. Like I said, Skylar is young, and other than being Micha’s sister, she’s not a permanent fixture in Zoey’s life. Living with her is a complication.”
She uncrosses and recrosses her legs as she straightens her spine, and here it comes. “I’m going to level with you, Aston. The next few months to the next couple of years are crucial in Zoey’s life. She’s been through enormous trauma and has a severe fear of abandonment along with an anxious-preoccupied attachment disorder, meaning she craves intimacy and latches on fast, afraid to let go and lose someone.”
“You picked all of this up from two forty-five-minute sessions with her?”
“Yes,” she says simply, almost pityingly.
I wince and cover my face with my hands. “I know,” is all I can manage because I do. I’ve seen it. She’s had a horrible year, and it’s shaped her in ways that keep me up at night as I try to think about how I can fix this for her.
“She needs stability in her life,” she continues. “That includes the people in it. People she can rely on. More than just you.”
“I’m trying to give her that. It’s why we moved back here. She has my parents and even my brother.” Alden picked her up from school yesterday and spent all afternoon with her. Hetook her to the aquarium and bought her ice cream and a new stuffed penguin she’s been sleeping with. Hearing her squeal about it all last night reminded me why moving back to Boston was the right choice for her.
“And that’s fantastic. But right now, she needs consistency. Not the uncertainty of fluctuation.” She lets that sit for a moment. “Let’s plan to have another talk next month after I’ve had some more sessions with Zoey, and we can see how things are going.”
“Sure.”
Numbly, I get to my feet and make my way home, my head spinning. Before long, I’m parking and dragging myself up Micha’s front steps, my shoulders hunched and my brain heavy. Today was a particular motherfucker. Seven back-to-back trauma cases, two emergency surgeries, and a mountain of administrative paperwork have left me hollowed out, and then this chat with Dr. Tudor.
It's only been a couple of weeks here, and I already can’t help but feel like I’m failing Zoey. That no matter what choice I make or how I do it, I’m doing it wrong. All I want is to collapse on the couch with Zoey tucked against my side, maybe order pizza, and watch one of her cartoon movies until we both drift off to sleep. Simple comfort to counterbalance the chaos. But when I push open the front door, the scene that greets me isn’t what I expected at all.
My parents were supposed to pick Zoey up and bring her home while I met with Dr. Tudor. So what in the East Jesus am I looking at now?
The kitchen table is covered in construction paper, markers, glitter—God help us, it’s pink and extra sparkly—and what appears to be dozens of cut-out paper dolls. Zoey sits cross-legged on one of the chairs, her tongue poking out between her teeth in concentration as she carefully applies glue to a paper figure. Beside her, propped up on her knees but somehowmaking the position look graceful, is Skylar. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, blonde strands escaping to frame her face. There’s a smudge of glitter on her cheek beneath her left eye that makes her look like a bedazzled football player.
“And this one can be Mommy,” Zoey explains, holding up a paper doll with wild curls drawn in black marker. “She’s watching from heaven, so she needs extra sparkles.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Skylar replies, her voice gentle in a way I’ve never heard directed at me while she cuts her paper people. “People who love us are like stars. We can’t always see them, sometimes they’re even hidden from us, but they’re always there watching over us.”
“Do you think that’s what Mommy is doing?”
Skylar glances up, and the smile she gives my daughter makes my chest clench. “Absolutely. You make your mommy smile every day.”
“Do you think she hears me when I talk to her?”
“Without a doubt, she does. Your mom is always with you. That’s what makes mommies so special.”
“Daddy!” Zoey spots me and scrambles off her chair before launching herself at my legs. I drop my bag and scoop her up, breathing in the scent of strawberry shampoo and glue.
“Hey, Zo-Zo. What’s all this? Where’s Grandma and Grandpa?”
“I told them I had her,” Skylar supplies. “I was already home, and there was no sense in them staying while I was here.”
“Me and Skylar are making paper people! Look!” She wiggles to be put down and drags me by the hand to their art project. “This is you, and this is me, and this is Mr. Penguin, and this is Mommy in heaven, and this is Uncle Micha in Africa, and this is Uncle Alden, and this one is Skylar!”
I study the paper figures. Mine is tall with a stethoscope made from a silver pipe cleaner. Zoey’s has wild curls like hermother’s, only hers are in yellow marker, and what appears to be a cape is on her back. Skylar looks like a blonde princess covered in pink glitter, and Micha and Alden look indiscriminate. “Wow. Look at all of us.”
Skylar rises from the chair, brushing glitter from her jeans. “Isn’t it amazing? She did such a great job.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I love it.”
“I want to put them on the wall in my room.”
