She needs help to dress, and then I lead her into the kitchen and help her sit on one of the barstools at the island.
Vaguely, I hear Mama and her talk as I pull all the bedding off the bed and replace it with fresh, tossing the old in the washer while Sloane is up and occupied.
“He always wanted to be in the church,” Mama says as I head back into the kitchen.
“I’m upset that he left the church,” Sloane admits, and my breathing hitches as I stop and stare between them.
“You are?” I ask her.
I thought she would be ecstatic that I’d made this decision, and that I had chosen her over all else.
Sloane sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, it makes me feel so good that you left the church for me, but I never wanted to ruin you.”
Mama tsks from where she’s plating sandwiches for the three of us. “You didn’t ruin him, child. You brought him back to us. He did good while he was in the church. Don’t get me wrong, but I never wanted that life for him. I wanted him to get married and have a good job and life.”
Sloane’s cheeks heat as she looks down at her wringing hands in her lap.
Does she want to be married? Our age gap is significant, but in today’s times, I don’t see the huge deal.
“Here you go. Luca, sit down. Stop hovering like a shadow,” Mama says, handing Sloane her plate and setting mine beside hers.
Mama stands across from us at the island. She’s always been one to eat standing up, even after she made the entire meal.
“I know a good doctor, you know?” Mama says, and Sloane eyes her with a mouth full of food.
“One you can talk to when you’re ready, of course,” Mama adds.
How she talks to Sloane is easy and light, as if none of this is a big deal. Sloane wipes her mouth with a napkin, nodding. Seems that’s what Sloane needs, though.
“Thank you. I’d like that,” she answers, and Mama beams, sneaking a look at me and giving me the kindest nod.
“The man is dead, then?” Mama asks, and my eyes snap to hers in warning.
“He is. I stabbed his dead body. Ruined him, his face, his body,” Sloane admits, fidgeting in her chair.
“Good. I hope he goes to hell looking how you left him,” Mama says, licking mustard off her finger.
“Mama!” I shout, having never heard her curse before.
Sloane giggles beside me. “I seem to recollect far worse coming from your mouth, Luca.”
Mama beams. “Yes, but he’s never heard his mama curse before. Sometimes it’s warranted. Now is one of those times.”
We eat our sandwiches with easy banter between the three of us, and Mama even convinces Sloane to remain in the living room for a movie and ice cream. By the end of the day, Sloane has eaten three times and has rouge back in her cheeks.
Mama now stands at the door, all her grocery bags empty and folded behind her arms, looking at the two of us before her.
“Don’t let age impede this,” she tells us. “And you don’t let him win. You’ve been through so much in your life, and you survived it. You, my dear girl, are a survivor. Don’t forget that. If you need me, I’m here. You’re family now.”
Sloane bounds into my mama’s arms, and I ignore the swirling warmth in my stomach at the sight. I don’t know the future for Sloane and myself, but I love her.
I also know I’ll never stop loving her.
“Mama,” I say, sweeping her into a tight hug. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. You’re still my baby, you know? Sometimes, you need your mama.”
I smirk, opening the door for her to exit.