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I stand in front of the red peeling door. The number 4 is hanging at an angle below the peephole. I knock three times, leaning on my crutches for support as I wait.
The door swings open, and the small brunette before me smiles. "Mom," she grins, stepping aside to let me in. Her hair is messy and half up in a ponytail. She is wearing blue overalls and a white t-shirt, with paint on her pink cheeks. "I was going to text you back, I've just been really busy."
"Not a problem," I say, seeking comfort on the blue couch just inside the door. "I miss you."
"You miss me?" she asks, smiling as she fiddles with her hair. "I miss you too."
"I mean it," I say, "I've been looking through photo albums to try and jog my memory, and I just– it really made me miss you."
"Do you remember anything?" She asks hopefully, sitting down next to me.
"Not quite. Your sisters have been really helpful– but you, you have been avoiding me."
"I've been working," She sighs, looking at her phone. "Wrapping everything up, ready for my maternity leave. Jed wants me to take a long one," she explains, and I smile, looking around the room for photos.
"Jed is your partner?" I ask curiously.
"Oh, god no," She laughs. "Jed is my boss."
"Ah," I say, my eyes settling on the only photo in her apartment. But it isn't a wedding photo, it is a picture of me and my three girls.
"You won't find any pictures of him in here," she tells me, her eyes burning holes in my head as I look around. "Hey detective," she laughs, "Just ask the question."
"Who is the father?" I ask, nodding to her belly.
"Jason, my husband– soon to be ex-husband," She tells me, nodding her head. "Don't worry, you never liked him. In fact, you told me not to marry him, so I guess I should've listened to my mother."
"I'm sorry," I say, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.
"Oh, it's fine," she says dismissively. "He was lousy in bed anyway."
We laugh, I study her face for a moment, and whether she lets on or not, I can tell she is sad.
"What happened?" I ask curiously.
"This," she says, holding her belly. "We tried for seven years to have a baby. We paid thousands of dollars in IVF treatments, and nothing ever worked. And then, we went to a party and we all had way too much to drink. Jason had this wise idea to have a foursome with his best friend and his wife." She says, looking ashamed.
"Jason's best friend of thirty years got me pregnant quicker than he could, after 2 minutes of the worst sex I've ever experienced. And somehow, it was my fault."
"Oh sweetheart," I say, my heart breaking for my middle child. I reach my arms out and pull her into a hug, rocking her gently. I can't tell if she's crying, but she doesn't pull away. She deepens the hug, and we hold one another in silence for a while.
Eventually, she pulls away, wiping her face and smiling at me. "What else do you want to know about me? Marg said she gave you a full rundown of her life, I can do that too?"
"Sure," I smile, watching as she turns sideways on the couch and sits cross-legged, facing me.
"Okay, so my name is Serena Danielle Stabler, I was born on January 5th, 1991, at 10:45 am- in the back of a police car," she giggles. "I have always been a handful. I was a month early, and I was your smallest baby, weighing only 5lbs 10oz."
"Unlike your baby sister," I laugh, remembering how she told me she weighed over 9 lbs.
"I do believe that I am your favourite child," she smirks, "I went to Law school, and that's where I met Jason. He was my professor, that's why you didn't like him." She smiles awkwardly. "He never took advantage of me," she adds.
"We got married when I was nineteen, and that really bothered you," she laughs. "There's not really much else to say. My life is pretty boring. I got consumed by the baby making side of things for so long that I forgot how to just live."
I nod, listening carefully to her story. "You and I try to have lunch together at least twice a week. That's how I know I am your favourite," she laughs. "You're my best friend, Mama. I tell you everything, all my secrets. Probably a good thing cos you don't remember any of them," she jokes.
"I was really worried about you, I don't think I could cope if something really bad had happened," she sighs, "This I can deal with."
"I'm sorry," I tell her, and she shakes her head.
"Not your fault. You were just doing your job."
"So," I say, reaching over to try and wipe the paint off her cheek. "What are you painting?"
"Oh," her eyes light up, and she smiles the biggest smile ever, "The nursery, you wanna see?"
"Sure," I grin, standing up slowly. She wraps her arm around mine to help me, and we walk slowly down the hall. I can't wait to be able to walk properly again.
"Ta da," she says, swinging open a door and smiling proudly at her work. I gasp. The wooden panelling around the room has been painted a gorgeous sage green and above the panelling. On the white walls, Serena has painted wildflowers of all kinds.
"Oh Serena, it's gorgeous," I say as I take in every detail. "You're so talented."
She shrugs. "I dabble in a bit of art, too."
"I want you to come and paint my room like this," I laugh, admiring her work. "It's really beautiful."
"Thanks, Mama," she blushes. "I'm glad you stopped by, I missed you." She says, wrapping her arms around me. She is so short compared to her sisters that she barely reaches my shoulders, and it makes me laugh as I tilt my head to kiss her forehead.
