Reminders of Him

Diem doesn’t have much of a reaction. She just smiles. And then she crawls across the grass and starts flipping tic-tac-toe squares that make up a part of the wall of the jungle gym. “You should come to my T-ball game. It’s my last one.” She spins one of the letters on the wall.

“I would love to come watch you play T-ball.”

“Someday I’m gonna do that thing with the swords, though,” Diem says. “Hey, do you know how to play this game?”

I nod and move close to her so I can show her how to play tic-tac-toe.

I realize that this moment isn’t nearly as monumental to Diem as it is to me. I’ve played out a million scenarios in my head of how this would go, and in every scenario, Diem was either sad or angry that it took me so long to be a part of her life.

But she truly didn’t even know that I was missing.

I’m so grateful for that. All these years of worry and devastation have all been one sided, which means Diem has been whole and happy and fulfilled.

I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome. It’s like I just get to slip into her life without so much as a ripple.

Diem grabs my hand and says, “I don’t want to play this, let’s go to the swings.” She abandons the game, and we crawl out of the center of the jungle gym. She climbs into a swing and says, “I forgot your name.”

“It’s Kenna.” I say that with a smile because I know I’ll never have to lie to anyone about my name again.

“Will you push me?”

I push her on the swing, and she starts telling me about a movie Ledger took her to see recently.

Ledger walks out onto the porch and sees us talking. He comes over to us and stands behind me, wrapping his arms around me. He kisses the side of my head, right when Diem turns and looks at us. “Gross!”

Ledger kisses the side of my head again and says, “Get used to it, D.”

Ledger takes over pushing Diem’s swing, and I sit down in the swing next to her and watch them. Diem tips her head back and looks at Ledger. “Are you gonna marry my mom?”

I should probably have a reaction to the marriage part of that question, but my brain only focuses on the fact that she just said my mom.

“I don’t know. We still need to get to know each other better.” Ledger looks at me and smiles. “Maybe one of these days I’ll be worthy enough to marry her.”

“What does worthy mean?” she asks.

“It means good enough.”

“You’re good enough,” Diem says. “That’s why I named my turtle Ledger.” She tilts her head back again and looks at him. “I’m thirsty, will you bring me a juice?”

“Go get it yourself,” he says.

I get out of the swing. “I’ll get you a juice.”

I hear Ledger mutter to her, “You’re so rotten,” as I walk away.

Diem laughs. “I am not!”

When I go inside, I watch them from the back door for a moment. They’re adorable together. She’s adorable. I’m scared I’m about to wake up and realize none of this actually happened, but I know it’s happening. And I know I’ll eventually embrace that I deserve this. Maybe after I finally have a real conversation with the Landrys.

I walk into the kitchen to find Grace cooking. “She wants some juice,” I say as I enter.

Grace’s hands are full of chopped tomatoes, and she drops them into a salad. “It’s in the fridge.”

I grab a juice and observe Grace as she prepares dinner. I want to be more helpful and interactive with her than I was the first time Scotty brought me to this house. “How can I help?”

Grace smiles at me. “You don’t have to. Go spend time with your daughter.”

I start to walk out of the kitchen, but my steps feel so heavy. I have so much I want to say to Grace that I didn’t have the chance to say to her earlier today at my apartment. I turn around, and I’m sorry is on the tip of my tongue, but I feel like if I open my mouth, I’ll cry.

My eyes meet Grace’s, and she can see the agony in my expression.

“Grace . . .” My voice is a whisper.

She immediately walks over to me and pulls me in for a hug.

It’s an amazing hug. A forgiving hug. “Hey,” she says, soothingly. “Hey, listen to me.” She pulls back, and we’re about the same height, so we’re eye to eye when she takes the juice from me and sets it aside. Then she squeezes both of my hands reassuringly. “We go forward,” she says. “That’s it. It’s that simple. I forgive you and you forgive me, and we go forward together and give that little girl the best life we can give her. Okay?”