Mess You Made

48.

Malibu.

I don't often walk Marci to daycare but the sun was out this morning and the neighbourhood felt alive in that warm, comfortable way that East Harlem only scarcely feels. After last night, a part of me just wanted the quiet, and the thinking and alone time with my favourite girl in the world. I won't be able to pick her up from daycare since I'll have a shift at the speakeasy later today.

Dressed her in lavender today. A little lavender summer top, and these matching blue jeans that look ridiculously cute on a one year old— incredibly styled, if I do say so myself. Very beautiful, she's the most gorgeous thing to grace the planet— which isn't bias, it's fact, look at her honey pools for eyes.

She brings a sense of calm that I come to crave all the time. I don't have to focus on anything except Marci when she's in my arms so the rest of the world is on pause. A reprieve that ends once I reach the steps of the house-like daycare.

"Kiss." I tap my cheek.

Marci presses a kiss to my cheek, her lips all pouted. I press a bigger one to her temple before I walk up a couple steps, handing her off to the women here— who are trustworthy, and sweet, and look after her like they're her daughter. It took us time to trust them.

With a big crooked smile, she waves at me from the doorstep and I wait for her to head inside before I start walking back towards the house.

I pull out my phone as I walk, checking the last message Miguel had sent.

I'll find a way.

I don't know if he slept. I don't know if he's okay, at all, but his family's been keeping him hostage in the apartment since the early morning. I suppose it's warranted but he can't find a way to sneak out, and although it sounds selfish, although I won't admit it— I want him to somehow find his way over to East Harlem.

I want to see him, more desperately than I could've imagined. I don't want to tear him from his family though so I'm not devising a plan with him to sneak out, like he wants me to. And I'm not heading over to meet him in the apartment because I have a shift. It can wait. We can wait, surely— he's okay, there, whilst with the family that loves him, and so there's no need for me to wonder if he'll slip— he's okay.

I swallow it all down, pocketing my phone again.

Once I find my way home, I turn the lock. Head inside like usual, and it's empty, quiet. I'm home alone and intend to get some cleaning done— the house is a mess. I thread my fingers through my hair, pushing it all up into a high ponytail, wonder how much of this I can get done before my shift.

And when the door knocks, I'm mindless in the way I head towards it and open it. I think nothing of it.

I don't even look up at first, kicking away some shoes from the floor before I force a tight smile— imagining it's someone, anyone, a delivery or it's Sierra, and then when my gaze lifts, everything comes to a stop.

It all stops.

I stop.

My entire body tenses, fingers tightening around the door handle, and I stare.

I just stare at her for a moment.

If my body's a clock, all the arms are stuck again. The cogs aren't turning. I'm stood in silence as my gaze meets my mother's, and hers meets mine over the threshold of this house. The silence stays for just a moment because I suddenly— can't really find myself to move.