“Take it,” she repeats, her opinion unchanging. Her neck elongates, like she’s holding her fucking breath. “I just want the best for you.”
“The best for me is to be with you.” His nose flares, restraining emotion. “I’m a better fucking person when I’m with you.” He rubs his face a couple times, and any doubt I’ve ever had about him just fucking disappears. I can see how much they emotionally care about one another. How much they probably have this whole fucking time.
“Don’t be afraid,” she whispers to him. “You can do anything on your own. I know you can.” Her glasses fog up and she takes them off.
His reddened eyes meet hers, and his brown hair brushes his lashes. He clasps her hand, threading their fingers. And he says, “I love you.”
Tears squeeze out of her eyes.
“No matter where we are, you’re always going to be my girl.”
Four years is a long fucking time, but maybe it’ll work.
We all can empathize with first love.
Even Connor.
The double doors open behind us, echoing against the ceiling. Then the judge’s chamber door swings wide. Lily, Rose, and Daisy are back just in time.
I crane my neck over my shoulder. The man in the furthest back row stands.
To approach the bench.
DAISY MEADOWS
Seated back beside Ryke, I stuff the envelope with Willow’s gift in my purse. The judge already asked Willow and Jonathan to step forward.
Willow holds her arm to her chest, timid and nervous. I wish I brought literal pompoms to cheer her on. I smile at the thought. I don’t think it’d embarrass her. I’d just be shifting the judge’s pointed gaze off her, and I bet she’d like that right now.
Sadly, I am without pompoms.
So I just watch the awkward tension mount and mount as she stands between Jonathan Hale and Robert Moore. She’s taken two extra steps closer to Jonathan. Clearly there is a winner here in spirit, but no one knows what Robert is thinking.
We all just have facts to work with since Willow never brings him up.
Robert Moore never called Willow when she ran away from home to Philadelphia. Ryke fumed about it on the start of the car ride here, “As a fucking father, how can you not go after your daughter? She left the fucking state.”
Ryke doesn’t understand people who don’t care.
Lo retorted, “He raised her. Jonathan didn’t.”
We’re all on edge. I can’t get comfortable on the wooden bench either. Ryke must see me fidgeting because he spreads open his legs and pulls me between them. So I can lean against his chest.
I almost let out an audible sigh. Sweet, sweet back relief.
The female judge motions to Robert. “Since the means of Mr. Hale outweigh most, I wanted you here in person. I need to make sure you haven’t been coerced, threatened, or swayed by financial means to give consent.”
The court reporter’s fingers move quickly, capturing the judge’s words.
Robert shrugs, hardly acknowledging Willow. “This is what it’s come to. I’m not surprised.”
“Are you upset by giving up your paternal rights to Willow, Mr. Moore?” the judge asks, genuinely wanting to reach the bottom of this.
I do too.
Robert shrugs again. “All along, I think I knew that she wasn’t my kid. It’s not just about looks, but no one in my family needs glasses.”
Ryke mutters under his breath, “Dickfucker.”
Lo grits through his teeth, and I barely catch the words, gold star for you, motherfucker.
My heart is taking a horrible nosedive.
Robert crosses his arms. “She doesn’t act like any kid of mine.” Stop. “She’s practically mute half the time. Never went out of the house, except to movies.” Stop. “She dresses more like a boy than a girl.” Stop it. “She has no friends.”
We all stand up at the same time, causing Willow, Jonathan, and Robert to look back at us. Willow is silently crying.
When her eyes land on mine, I mouth, my one friend. I make a heart with my hands, and I smile. She shares it and rubs her wet cheeks.
She is my one true friend.
And I love her. We all do.
Lo is seething and biting his tongue. He mutters something like, “I’m going to call him names in a goddamn second.”
“Good,” Ryke mutters back.
“Can I say something, Your Honor?” Jonathan raises his hand to the judge, his face creased with severe, strict lines.
“Yes.”
Jonathan then narrows a malicious glare on Robert. I swear the air crackles with cinder and flames. “Don’t ever insult my daughter again, you microscopic prick—”
“Alright, Mr. Hale—”
“In the seventeen years that she was with you—did you even talk to her?” Jonathan asks. “Did you know she’s charismatic when you discuss things that interest her? Maybe you should’ve seen a goddamn movie with her—”
“Mr. Hale—”
“—instead of sitting around on your ass, you scum of this planet.” He fixes his suit, as though he just finished brawling.
So that escalated quickly. Lo is smiling from ear-to-ear. He didn’t have to call Robert names after all.
“Mr. Hale,” the judge snaps, banging her gavel forcefully.
“I’m done,” Jonathan says, and I just now really look at Robert.
He’s taken five steps backwards, and his face is beet-red.
I’ve never wanted Willow further away from a person than from him.
“Let’s continue. Robert Moore, do you wish to give up your legal rights as Willow’s father to Jonathan Hale?”
Unflinchingly, he says, “Yes.”
“Then the court recognizes Jonathan Hale as Willow’s legal and biological father. Thank you all for coming today, and congratulations Willow.” The judge’s eyes flit heatedly to Robert before she leaves the courtroom.
I cup my hands around my mouth and make a bird noise. “Ca-Caw!”
Willow laughs a tearful laugh as she turns around, and we all start clapping. I squeeze out of the row, most everyone muttering about Robert. Watching him leave in a hurry.
I bet he’s scared of Jonathan.
I approach Willow by the first row. “This is for you, and I’m totally kicking myself because it would’ve been awesome if you had it before…all of that.” I wave at the judge’s bench like it’s in the past anyway.
She carefully opens the envelope, first pulling out a silver pinky ring. A square etched in the center. It’s identical to the one she’d given me a long while ago.
The minute tears start flowing down her cheeks again, the dam on mine breaks all at once. We smile together as she fits the ring on her pinky.
“We all need a little protection sometimes,” I tell her a version of what she once told me. “And there are a lot of people who love you here.”
She has to take off her glasses. “This means…so much to me. Thank you.” She fits on her glasses again.
“There’s more,” I say with a bigger smile.
With a trembling hand, she inspects the envelope and procures the next item. It’s a picture of a tiny little willow tree next to a cabin. The sign hung over the door says, Green Willow.
She knows what it is, her eyes watering, but I say it anyway, “You’re now officially a girl’s cabin at Camp Calloway. You didn’t think I missed you, did you?” We all painted signs and my sisters helped plant some of the flowers that were in season, right next to the correlating cabin name. Pink Lily. Purple Lily. Yellow Rose. White Rose. Red Poppy. Orange Daisy.
Now there’s Green Willow.
I hold out my palm for our handshake, but she suddenly wraps her arms around my shoulders, light as a feather.
Before she falters, I hug her back.
Friends might not be forever, but maybe friends that you view as family have long-lasting powers, destined to stick around.
DAIS
Y MEADOWS
I whack a pine needle away from my dad’s face. He’s in a suit and expensive coat, the sky overcast since the heavy rainfall yesterday. All the mountains that landscape Camp Calloway are clouded with fog. I’m not sure that the dull, grimy atmosphere exudes the magic I wanted to present.
I just need the forest to play nice for him. Best impressions, everyone. “This is the path to the girls’ cabins,” I say, my boots crunching twigs.
My dad has never been overly talkative, but I’ve been leading him around the grounds for an hour and a half and I’ve calculated the stats.
2 partial smiles.
10 head nods.