We Were Gods: Oleander: Book One

My Light In The Dark

It didn't take me long to seek out my daughter in my mind. I easily transported between the world of my past and the world of my present. Standing nervously at the door of the apartment, I allow my bruised knuckles to tap against the painted wood.

"Oleander?" Lindie's mother raises a perfectly manicured dark eyebrow, her olive eyes narrowing slightly in question. "It's not your day and you didn't call."

"Sorry, baby mama." I flash her my most sincere and widest smile which just makes her shake her head before opening the door wider. I'm not sure if there is attraction between us or if there ever even was but I am thankful that this woman carried my daughter in her womb and allows me to be as active as possible in Lindie's life.

"I told you to quit calling me that." It is not an "order" and she didn't snap at me but there is the hint of playfulness to her voice. In all of the years of our daughter's short life I have never called her by her real name. I have always called her "the baby mama" or any other silly nickname I can think of; though it is never from a place of spite or anger. I just can't pronounce her name. "Lindie is sleeping but you are more than welcome to take her for the day." She adjusts the scarf wrapped around her head to better cover her hair and chest.

She is slightly older than me but not by much and she is highly intelligent. She graduated from high school and college early. I have never met someone as motivated as her, but I suppose our daughter is her driving force. The day after we met I knew she was out of my league and it would never work. What we did together might have been a mistake but what we made was always our greatest creation and neither one of us would take it back.

I was careful to remove my boots before heading into the house and down the familiar hallway into Lindie's room. The walls were painted with different fairytale characters from places like India and China. Me and the baby mama had painted these walls together, as my father crafted the furniture in the room. My mother painted the furniture and made Lindie many different blankets.

"Little one." I hummed, rubbing my daughter's back. I couldn't keep from smiling as she let out a small groan. I easily picked her up and she curled into my hold, her eyes just barely fluttering open before closing again. I tenderly kissed her forehead before carrying her out of the room.

"Will she be back tonight?" The baby mama asked, slender fingers fidgeting with an earring.

"I'll let you know. But if you want to make plans or something I'm more than happy to keep her longer."

She licked her lips for a moment, a fleeting thought passing behind her eyes. There was a question there but there was also a hesitation and fear to ask. She let out a steadying sigh before deciding to ask; "How is your mother?"

"She's getting better. It's slow but steady." I admit, adjusting my daughter in my hold. "Any progress is better than none."

"Good. I was worried when you told me Pat was in the hospital. She is such a good woman and I'd hate for the world to lose her."

A smile passes between us.

I am thankful she does not follow us outside and even more thankful that Lindie does not awaken as I shift the world around us once more to bring her back to my house. When she was born I had the wild dream that I was going to graduate and fight my way through some kind of trade school and then get a great job so I could afford a new place with a room just for Lindie. But I suppose all teen parents have that dream but the odds are stacked against us from the moment of conception.

I gently set my daughter down on my bed and lay with her; her tiny frame curls into mine and she lets out a content sigh. I rub her tiny back and am slowly lulled into a sleep of my own.