Page 25 of A Moment for Us
Oh, this is just too easy. “He did. He still does too. Especially the blow up ones. You should ask him to see it.”
“Josh!” Delia walks in at that exact moment. Her eyes are wide, but she’s trying—and failing—to hide her smile.
“What?”
“You know what.”
I shrug, pretending I have no idea why she’d think I said something wrong. Delia drops down beside me. “Which is your favorite?” she asks Melia.
“This one.”
She holds up a doll that looks like it’s been through a meat grinder. There are chunks of hair missing, the face has magic marker makeup all over it, and someone must have chewed on her hands. I’m slightly horrified at my niece.
“That is your favorite?” I ask in disbelief.
“She’s the nicest of them. She’s had a rough life.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
Melia hands the doll to me. “Daddy says that even though she’s a mess, she needs to be loved.”
“He’s a smart man,” Delia says with a hint of reverence. “I think that, sometimes, those who look the most damaged have the kindest hearts.”
“And this one?” She holds up a perfect-looking doll. “She’s the mean witch.”
“But she’s wearing a pink ball gown! How is she a witch?” I ask Amelia, thoroughly confused.
“Uncle Josh!” she whines. “Don’t you see? Her insides are rotten.”
“Oh, yes, now I see it.” I turn to Delia, wondering what the hell is wrong with this kid.
Delia smiles, taking the doll. “Maybe she needs more love. Maybe her insides are rotten because her heart is broken.”
Amelia sits back on her heels. “Can you love someone better?”
“I sure think so,” Delia says as she brushes the doll’s hair. “I think that we can offer kindness, love, and friendship to everyone.” She drops her head and whispers the next part. “Even the grumpy or mean ones like your uncle.”
The giggle that escapes Amelia is musical and sweet. “He’s not grumpy!”
“No?”
She shakes her head. “No. He just needs a lot of hugs.”
“I do not.”
“I think you might be right.” Delia grins and then takes a sip of her wine.
Melia jumps forward, and I catch her easily. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she kisses my cheek. She pulls back, holding my cheeks in her small hands. “See, you’re smiling.”
“How can I not? You give the best hugs.”
Her head rests on my shoulder, and I close my eyes for a moment, imagining a different child. A different life. A different time when I thought this could be me.
Back when I was full of the blissful ignorance of youth.
I could’ve had a family. I should’ve had this, but that life wasn’t in the cards. I was dealt a different hand. One that is dark, black, and lonely where I choose to stay. I will never again move toward the light because, at least here, there’s no pain.
There’s a comfort in knowing how it feels to have lost it all and there’s nothing more that can be taken.
