The Mixtape

Was it too dramatic to think that I really wanted to give those two five-year-olds a piece of my mind? Or at least their parents. I would’ve been horrified to learn that my child was a bully. And I truly despised the idea that Reese was surrounding herself with those types of people. I didn’t want her to (A) start doubting herself in any way, shape, or form or (B) become like those two and bully others.

She was at that stage in her life where everything had an impact on her thoughts. I needed to fix the problem sooner rather than later, before it really affected her growth.

“Okay, Mama,” she said, going back to her humming as if nothing major had taken place.

“I mean that, Reese. You are the coolest person I’ve ever met in my life. Don’t forget that.”

She agreed with me and went back to singing “Background Noise,” by Alex & Oliver, obviously. As we drove, I fell into their music, too, somewhat forgetting the craziness of my life and allowing myself to breathe for a moment in time.

Thank goodness Abigail dropped off those groceries for Reese and me the other day. I could make that stretch for a while, and if worse came to worst, I could sell the car.

There’s always a way, there’s always a way, there’s always a way.

My mind was filled with the affirmations that I spoke to myself on a daily basis. They kept me from crumbling and spiraling too far away from myself.

“Hey, Mama?”

“Yes, Reese?”

“Who’s my dad?”

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach as I looked back toward her as she played with one of her dolls that was always left in the car. That was the last question I’d expected to come from her. I knew down the line I’d have to address that question. I’d played that conversation over and over again in my head for the past five years.

“What makes you ask that?” I responded, trying to sound as calm as I could, even though my heart was beating as if it were ready to burst from my chest.

“Well, at camp we are making Father’s Day cards for everyone’s dads, and I told Mia and Randy I didn’t have a dad to make a card for, and they told me that everyone had a dad, and I didn’t know that. I thought some people just had mamas, so now I’m just wondering who my dad is if everyone has dads.”

Freaking Mia and Randy. The two devil children.

“That’s a very good question, sweetheart, and we should talk about it later when we get home, okay?”

“Okay, Mama. I hope I get to meet him one day. I want to tell him I love him like I love you.”

My already shattered heart crumbled into even more pieces than ever before.

“I love you, Reesey Pieces,” I choked out, fighting the tears that were sitting at the back of my eyes.

“Love you, too, Mama.”

Thankfully, she didn’t bring the topic up again that night. After dinner, she headed to her bedroom to play with her toys, and I cleaned up the kitchen and gathered the garbage to take out to the trash bins outside.

As I walked outside, Abigail was walking in and gave me the brightest smile. “Hey, Emery. How are you—” Her words faded when her eyes met mine. “Oh no, what’s wrong?”

The mother shield I’d been carrying on my shoulders began to crack as my shoulders dropped and my chest burned. “Just one of those days.”

“What happened?”

“I lost my job today due to the craziness that took place at the bar last night. I don’t know how I’m going to keep things together. We were already living paycheck to paycheck, and I made the stupid decision to spend a big part of my savings on summer camp for Reese. Now, things are even tighter, and I’m out two jobs and it seems like the world is spiraling.”

“Oh, sweetheart. If you need help—”

“No, truly. It’s fine. I’ll figure it out. Thank you, though. To add flames to the fire, Reese asked about her father today.”

Abigail grimaced and nodded in understanding. She knew my life story inside and out. Heck, she was there for me more than my own mother was when my world turned upside down five years ago.

“She’s getting to that age where she’ll start wondering about these kinds of things,” she said. “Especially if she’s surrounded by other kids who are living different kinds of lifestyles.”

“Better lifestyles,” I sighed.

“No life is better than another. They are all just uniquely different.”

“I don’t even know what to say to her. How to even bring it up. Heck, I can hardly bring it up to myself without getting emotional about it.”

Abigail placed a comforting hand against my shoulder and gave me one of her sincere smiles. “Speak when you’re ready. Your daughter will be willing to listen when you’re able to tell it. Until then, just let her know that she has a mama who loves her. You’re doing great, Emery. Just know that, even on the days when it feels like you’re not.”