Alex wasn’t a model and my dad knew that. “Actually, Miss Lexi and I are about to make banana nut muffins for Mrs. Flores.”
“Oh, you’re with Lexi.”
“Yep.” That’s my job. For the next few weeks at least.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I can still fly out there. I can be there tomorrow.”
“No Dad, I’m fine. I promise.” There was a moment of silence, and I knew that it was all he could do to not get on a plane and come out and see me. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
“Call me when you hear back from the insurance.”
“Okay, I will. Love you.”
“Love you, Pumpkin.”
When I hung up the phone, I opened the pantry of my dreams and I heard Lexi pulling up a barstool at the massive island.
“That was your dad?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Is he going to come over to help with the muffins?”
“No. He lives far away.”
“Oh. Does your mom live far away, too?”
Shit.I knew that Lexi’s mom had died, and I didn’t want to bring up bad memories, but I also didn’t feel right about lying to her.
“My mom died a long time ago.”
Lexi’s eyes widened and her lips tilted up at the corners. “My mom died, too!”
Instead of being upset she seemed excited that we had that in common, I thought as I pulled out flour and nutmeg.
“Do you remember your mom?” she asked as she scooted forward on the stool, pulling her legs up and sitting on her feet.
I figured I might as well be honest with her since the subject didn’t seem to be upsetting her. “No, I never met her. She died the day I was born.”
“So did my mom!” She exclaimed. “Did your mom get hit with a car, too?!”
“No.” I shook my head. I wondered if that would have been easier to live with. As it was, it took me a long time to not feel responsible for my mom’s untimely passing since it had happened during childbirth. Logically, I knew that it wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t stop me from feeling like it was.
Maybe if it had been an accident, I wouldn’t have felt the need to be Wonder Woman. I wouldn’t have put the pressure on myself that my life had to mean something. That I needed to cure cancer, or solve world hunger, end homelessness. That I had to do something, be something extraordinary to make up for the fact that I’d killed my mom. Therapy had helped me realize that wasn’t the case on an academic level, but emotionally, I still had a hard time shaking that feeling of responsibility.
“Oh…” Lexi moved her legs out from beneath her and sat back down on the stool. I sensed the subject was not dropped as I gathered the measuring tools I needed. “Do you know what she looks like?” she asked.
“I do. I have pictures of her. Do you want to see?”
Lexi nodded her head.
I pulled up several photos on my phone and showed her.
She gasped when she saw them. “She looks like a princess.”
“She does, doesn’t she.” I remembered that’s exactly what I thought when I was younger. That my mom looked just like a princess. She had long blonde hair, huge brown eyes, and a heart shaped face.
“What was her name?”
