SCARLET MEETS MILA

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Scarlet

Mila adjusts the band of Teddy's pyjama pants before wrapping him up in his Spider-Man blanket. He looks at her with doe eyes, like she's the best thing since sliced bread. It makes me happy to see him form connections like the other kids I see walking down the street. I worry sometimes that he's different because of me, or that he'll never truly fit in because his life is shrouded by security and court dates.

Right now, those anxieties don't exist.

She gasps when he flicks the transform button on his newest toy car. According to his teacher, he has really started to show promise in the sharing department, all thanks to Mila's little intervention. So, staying true to tradition, I let him pick out something from the toy store to take home.

Without Mila, I'd be stuck in meetings with Miss Jeffery to discuss Teddy's behaviour. She's incredible, a breath of fresh air and sincere compassion. I watch them in awe, observing their relationship grow beyond what I would ever have imagined.

It hurts too.

I love him with every fibre of my soul, every inch of my being, but part of me realises that this situation is only a result of something far more complex. I'd always wanted children growing up. I never intended for this to be the solution, however, and with the exception of sisterhood, I became a mother much younger than anticipated.

Teddy runs toward me for a goodnight kiss as I sit on the couch lost in thought. I hold him against me and peck his temple. He relaxes into my chest, his head perched on my shoulder. "Have sweet dreams." I hum, patting his lower back gently. "No nightmares, ok?"

He nods sleepily. "Ok, I love you."

"Love you too." Mila grabs him under the armpits from behind and lifts him onto her hip. Her tender voice soothing him into a drowsy grumble. Maisie went to sleep hours ago, her routine far more established than Teddy. I commend Mila for the bedtime rituals, and hopefully, with a touch of hope, he too can get more than four hours of sleep a night.

It doesn't take her long to return, and without wasting a second, she jumps onto the couch and crawls to sit beside me. "He's knocked out." She giggles softly, pecking my cheek with a smile. "Only took two hours."

I sigh. "Let's make it our mission to get down to one."

"He'll get there." She reassures me. "It's just a game of repetition." Her hand meets my thigh with a small squeeze. "You're zoned out. Feel like that talk?"

The weight returns to my chest, and I push my phone aside and drag the blanket toward my stomach. "I don't know where to start."

"The beginning?"

I nod awkwardly. "Right."

"Scarlet." She pulls my chin toward her. "I'm not judging you. I know it's a lot but you'll feel better if it's out in the open."

"Will I?" My jaw tenses. "Will I feel better? Or will I just feel worse than I did before?"

She shrugs with a weak chuckle. "Honestly, I don't know. It's worth a try though." She explains. "I know I always feel better after. Sometimes it hurts to talk, but knowing it's out there takes some of the pressure off."

I fiddle with the blanket and chew my lower lip. "I don't know what she wants. That's the truth." I sigh, and Mila shuffles to listen in. "She keeps texting me and calling me, asking to meet."

"How long has this been happening?"

I shrug. "About two weeks." I can feel my chest tightening. "Constantly. I just don't have the heart to block her number. I never have. It's like a connected wire that lets me know she's safe. Not that I care, but not knowing would feel worse."