Change is good, unless it isn't

Chapter 6

Normani nervously runs her fingers through her hair. She knew this was going to be awkward.

"When you didn't answer your calls for work last night, we were worried that something had happened to you so I came over here to check on you, and you looked uncomfortable so I brought you in here and you asked me to stay so," she rambles out in one long breath, "I obviously did."

Dinah furrows her brow. "I wasn't on call last night, Normani. Why would I be contacted for work?"

"Uh," she nervously scratches at her nose, "You actually were on call last night, Dinah. But it's okay if you forgot. It happens to the best of us."

Shaking her head, Dinah looks down at her hands. She knows she had looked at her schedule at the beginning of the week and had last night off...didn't she?

"It's okay," Normani says, reaching over to squeeze Dinah's hand.

Dinah allows the contact for a moment, before realizing how horrible she must look. Standing, she wipes at the black smudges underneath her eyes. "Would you like to stay for coffee?"

Normani knows she should get to the station to catch up on last night's case, but is unable to bring herself to say no to the hopeful look on Dinah's face.

"Yeah," she accepts with a small grin, "coffee sounds great."

Normani sits at the small counter in the kitchen as Dinah makes coffee. Dinah had changed relatively quickly, but looked impeccable. Normani looks down at her own wrinkled suit from the night before. She doesn't even look as put together as someone that's more than likely hungover.

Pathetic.

Dinah pours the coffee and opens the freezer without thinking. It isn't until her hand is hovering over the bottle of alcohol that she realizes what she's done. She quickly jerks her hand back and takes Dinah's mug to her.

Normani tentatively takes a sip of the hot liquid. "This is good. Thanks."

Dinah rubs her neck, obviously avoiding Normani's eyes. "You're welcome."

"Dinah, you don't have to be embarrassed. We all have our ways of coping with things."

Dinah's face blushes a deep shade of red. She had wanted a fresh start—a new beginning—where no one knew what happened except for her. That was apparently blown to hell the moment Normani walked in her life.

She lets out a humorless laugh and shakes her head. "Yes, but mine just happens to be a very unhealthy way of coping."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she replies. "It's something I'd rather not delve into right now, if that's okay?"

Normani tentatively grins. "Of course. That's..." She trails off as she spots it on the side of the refrigerator.

It being a picture of Dinah. Correction—a picture of Dinah and a little boy.

Standing, she goes and slides it out from under the magnets holding it on the fridge. There is no denying he's related to Dinah despite his young age. The curly hair, the hazel eyes, the dimples when he smiled. He's obviously very important to Dinah, too. They were pulled in close, cheek to cheek. Her eyes and smile were more vibrant than they have been the entire time Normani has known her. Sure, Dinah has laughed and smiled at her jokes every now and then. But even in her laughter there was something obviously missing. She never seemed to be truly happy; she just seemed to be passing time until she waited for something else.

Maybe he was the something else.

Tanner.

It hits Normani like a ton of bricks. The outburst in the morgue bathroom, the drinking, the detached demeanor Dinah tends to hide behind to protect herself. She turns back to Dinah, who is staring right at her—trying hard to calm her breathing and keep the tears from falling. Normani knows the answer already, but still has to ask.

"He's your son, isn't he?"

~~~~~~~

"Mama, can we see the water chickens?"

It's all she can do not to laugh. Her three year old is incredibly smart, but his imagination tends to get the best of him. "The water chickens?"

"Mmhm." He nods his head, pointing to the zoo enclosure across from them. "The water chickens."

Her eyes follow his chubby little finger to see that he's pointing towards the penguins. An airy laugh escapes her. "Oh. The water chickens. Who told you about those?"

H presses his face against the glass, trying to get a better look at the zookeeper feeding them fish from a bucket. "Lindy did."

Dinah internally sighs. She is going to have to tell their teenage babysitter to stop teaching him things incorrectly just to be funny. Granted, it is funny most of the time. But some of the things she's said have stuck with him no matter how hard Dinah tries to convince him otherwise. Like the time Lindy had told him sour patch kids jumped out of his bellybutton in his sleep.

No amount of explaining would ever make her son stop believing that.

After a few more minutes of hearing him call them 'water chickens' and hearing the accompanying giggles of everyone around them, she decides that she should probably correct him. He really is a smart boy, after all, and she doesn't want people to think otherwise. "These are actually called Pygoscelis penguins, Tanner. They are found mostly in the higher latitudes of the sub-Antarctic and..."

She trails off as his bottom lip starts to quiver. "You mean...these aren't water chickens, Mama?"

There's no way she was going to break his heart. Science be damned. He's only three years old and if he wants to believe they weren't penguins, who is she to stop him? Though she can't lie and tell him what he wants to hear, she has gained quite the experience of dodging the truth. "Just forget I said anything, okay? We can...Let's take a picture of them."

The corners of his lips turn up in a smile. "Can we take a picture with them?"

"Hmm...let's see," she replies as they turn to where the penguins are behind them. She holds the camera out in front of them, prepared to press the button. "There we go."

He presses his cheek as hard as he can against hers and smiles. "Say cheese, Mama."

"Cheese," she repeats, smiling brighter than the sun.

~~~~~~

Lip trembling, Dinah focuses on her hands in her lap. She looks back up at Normani as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

"Was," she answers. "He was my son."