Page 115

I nod, because this makes sense to me.

“Sometimes, the order will seem silly,” Alastair chuckles. “Others, it’ll feel extra hard. I promise it’s meant to build the muscles in your legs. I have ice skates for you that should fit. Your mom measured your feet for me.”

Oh. That’s why she was doing that. My eyes flick over to her where she’s getting comfortable to sit for awhile. Two hours is a long time.

“Mom, you don’t have to stay,” I call out, beginning to feel bad that I threw a fit about this. We’re at some kind of private ice rink, and I don’t understand why. I’m trying hard not to stress her out by asking a million questions.

Mom put makeup on today, and she has more energy than she did when we first spoke to Ciaran. Taking a deep breath, I give her a fierce look. I worry about her a lot, and now I feel like I might cry. Ugh.

She drops her backpack on the ground and keeps her hand on the bench as she leans forward to stand. I watch as Ciaran walks over to offer his hand, my eyes narrowing when she takes it.

One, two, three…

Mommy doesn’t know that I count how long it takes before she begins walking once she stands. Sometimes, it only takes a few seconds, others it’ll take much longer. I breathe in and out as I watch, flinching when someone squeezes my arm.

“She’s okay,” Alastair murmurs, twisting to watch with me.

“I know,” I grunt, watching as she smiles and squeezes Ciaran’s hand before straightening.

It’s a good day. I would say that I know this already, but so much can change in the blink of an eye. My family regularly checks in on us, and I know my mom goes to a lot of specialists. I don’t understand everything about her condition, but there are days when my family sounds worried when Mom doesn’t pick up fast enough.

She’ll lose time painting and there aren’t cameras in certain rooms in our house. When my mom wants to disappear and just be, that’s where she’ll work. As the hours pass and no one hears from her, people worry.

I may be six and a half, but I’m not dumb.

Ser joven no significa ser tonto. It’s something Grandpa Emil says often, because others underestimate me. I see more than people think, and he knows that.

“I’m going to sketch while you have your lesson,” Mom says, sinking onto the edge of the bench.

Her legs aren’t broken, but it’s easier to sit than to do ‘the sway’ that makes people uncomfortable when she has to stand for longer periods of time. When I had my open house for preschool, they had us stand outside in the heat before herding us into the cafeteria for their assembly. Mom didn’t have her chair yet, and she sat on the sidewalk with me in her lap while we waited. People gave her the rudest glances, and soon after that, she bought her folding chair.

Mom thought she had embarrassed me, but she could never do that. Having her pass out would scare me so much more.

“Mom.”

“Zayn,” she says, amused as she brushes my curls off my forehead. “I can play this game all day long, and time is passing quickly. Get the lead out.”

I mock growl at her, blinking when someone snaps in my direction.

“Use your words,” Ciaran says, raising his brow. “We’re teaching a little boy to skate, not a rabid animal.”

I finally crack a smile before I turn and throw myself into my mom’s arms.

“How does he not knock you over,” Draven asks, chuckling as Mom hugs me tightly.

“I’ve had a lot of practice getting used to being tackled by my son,” she says, laughing. “I know you worry about me, baby. I’m all set, okay? I have some calls to make for work. I’m going to be painting some more murals. Do you think the neighbors would be pissed if I did more mural work on the back of our house to practice?”

I frown, not sure if we’re allowed to say much about that. Mommy is very secretive about her art. I pull away from her and she winks to show we’re good.

“Where have you painted a mural before?” Ci asks.

I glance over my shoulder, wondering why his voice sounds so odd. It’s deeper when he talks to Mom.

“A bookstore. I was afraid it was going to be a disaster, but the owner loved it,” Mom shrugs. “Off you go, Zayn. Have fun.”

Draven helps me put on my skates and they feel heavy and kind of clunky. I’m not sure how anyone is supposed to be able to glide the way Alastair and Ciaran are across the ice.

“You gotta crawl before you can walk,” Draven says, giving me a smile. “First, you’re going to side step onto the ice like this.”