My daughter. My whole world.
I pressed a kiss to her forehead and crept out of the room, leaving the door cracked open the way she liked it, then retreated to my room. I set my alarm, plugged in my phone, andcollapsed onto my bed without bothering to change out of my clothes.
I passed out the moment my body hit the bed. And less than three hours later, I was awake. Not because of my alarm, but because a small hand was patting my cheek, and a small voice was whispering, "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy."
I opened my eyes. Zoe stood beside my bed, clutching her stuffed elephant, her dark hair a tangled mess around her face.
"Hey, baby." My voice came out rough, thick with sleep. I cleared my throat and tried again. "What's the matter?"
"I had a bad dream."
I lifted the corner of my blanket. She didn't need a second invitation. She scrambled up onto the bed and burrowed against my side, her small body fitting perfectly into the curve of mine. She was warm from sleep, and she smelled like the strawberry shampoo we'd bought on sale last week. Two bottles for five dollars. Small victories.
"What was the dream about?" I asked, stroking her hair.
"There were monsters, mommy. And I couldn't find you. I kept calling and calling, but you weren't there."
I pulled her closer, pressing my lips to the top of her head. "I'm here," I said. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
We stayed like that until my alarm went off. Zoe groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. I sympathized. I wanted to do the same thing. But the day wasn't going to wait for us, no matter how tired we were.
I had a system. I had to, or nothing would get done.
Zoe's outfit was already laid out on her dresser, selected the night before: purple leggings, her favorite t-shirt with the sparkly rocket ship, warm socks because the apartment was always cold in the mornings. I got her dressed while she was stillhalf-asleep, her arms limp as noodles, as I guided them through the sleeves.
Breakfast was oatmeal. I made it the way she liked, with a swirl of cinnamon and raisins arranged into a smiley face. She giggled when she saw it, the bad dream already fading, and I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease.
"Mommy, guess what?"
"What?"
"Yesterday, Joey said girls can't be astronauts."
I paused mid-motion, the brush I was using on her hair hovering in the air. "Oh yeah? And what did you tell him?"
Zoe grinned, showing the gap where she'd lost her first tooth last month. "I told him he was dumb and I'm definitely going to be an astronaut."
I bit back a laugh. "Maybe we don't call people dumb. But you're absolutely going to be an astronaut if that's what you want."
"I know."
I finished her braid, wrapping the elastic around the end, and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "That's my girl."
Our apartment wasn't much. Two bedrooms, a living room that doubled as everything else, a kitchen barely big enough to turn around in. The linoleum was peeling in the corners, and the radiator made clanking sounds every time the heat kicked on.
But it was ours. No one could take it away.
At 7:15, I walked Zoe down the hall to Dani's apartment. Mid-winter recess meant no school this week, which meant I was relying on Dani more than usual.
Dani opened the door before I could knock. She was still in her pajamas, coffee mug in hand, her locs pulled up into a pineapple on top of her head. Behind her, I could see Joey on the living room floor, surrounded by a fortress of Lego bricks.
Zoe's face lit up. "Joey!"
"Zoe!" He waved enthusiastically. "Come look, I'm building a spaceship!"
