“You need to ask me before you make plans like that again, okay? It’s fine for tonight, but you can’t do that behind my back again.”
“Why not? She’s my friend. That’s not fair.”
“She’s my friend, Aya, and even if she were seven and your friend, you know you still have to ask me before you make plans with anyone, right?”
“She can have more than one friend, butwhatever, Dad.” She slaps her hands on her hips and gives me the stink eye.
With a raised brow, I cross my arms over my chest and clear my throat, the gesture she is overly familiar with. “I don’t think you should be speaking to me that way, do you?”
“I dunno,” she says.
“Well, the answer is no. You know better than to talk to me that way. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to lately, but I don’t like this new attitude of yours.”
“I think you just need to back off, Dad. I’m not a baby anymore, and you always treat me like one.”
She’s testing my patience and wasting time because I now need to get to the grocery store before Kai gets here in a bit. “Aya, enough. I know moving has been hard on you, and I know you haven’t had it easy these last couple of years, but I’m doing the best I can. I don’t deserve your attitude. Ya got me?”
“Fine,” she says.
I pull in a breath because if I don’t drop this, I’m going to end up in a long, drawn-out dad lecture, and I don’t have the time for that. “Look, we have to get to the grocery store because we have nothing in the house right now.”
“I can stay here myself,” she says.
“Aya! Quit it already. You’re not old enough stay alone. Go put your shoes back on and get ready to go. We’re leaving in five.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t care, Aya.”
She growls and tries to push me out of the room, followed by trying to swing her door closed on me.
“Are you out of your mind, young lady?” I slam her door back open and walk forward to remind her of my authority, and she backs up with a look of fear in her eyes. “Don’t you ever push me or close that door in my face again. Do you understand me?”
She doesn’t respond. Instead, her eyes fill up with tears. Aya doesn’t cry. She’s a strong kid, especially with everything she’s been through. She doesn’t even cry when she gets hurt. Stitches and all last year, she never shed a tear. “I want to be alone,” she says.
“No, I want you to tell me why you’re acting like this,” I tell her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she argues.
“Yes, it’s the only thing that matters right now, Aya. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She stares at me with a glare, not so much an angry one, but more of a painful one. “You’re not even trying.”
I don’t know what she means, but I know this isn’t going to be good, whatever it is. I take a seat on the edge of her bed and open my arms. “Come here.”
She’s reluctant at first but walks into my open arms and sits down on my lap. “You’re not,” she repeats.
“I don’t understand. What am I missing?”
“To find me a mom,” she states simply.
“Aya,” I sigh. She doesn’t understand, and I know that. I run my fingers through her curls and kiss her forehead. “It’s not that easy, baby. People have to find each other, spend time getting to know each other, maybe then they’ll fall in love, and the rest comes after that.”
“Kai is right in front of you, and you’re not falling in love with her. Why?”
“I haven’t known Kai very long, Aya. Love doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time.”
“I’m tired of waiting,” she says.
