Page 32 of The Scars I Bare
“Slimy?” I echoed, wondering just where she had been getting her fish.
Remembering who her father was—or at least, what little Cora had spoken of him—I realized she’d probably been fed only high-priced, fancy stuff, which was good, if you were a high-priced, fancy adult.
But a kid? A kid needed something that was more at their level.
Something more—
“Hey, Dean. You two ready to order?” Billy asked as soon as he reached our table, setting two glasses of ice water down in front of us.
“Hey, Billy! Have you met our newest resident, Miss Lizzie?” I paused a moment, unsure of if she was still an Ashcroft or a Carpenter. Deciding to let that go, I just smiled as Billy, a guy I knew from high school, greeted Lizzie like a queen.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Lizzie,” he said, shaking her tiny hand. “Can I get you anything else to drink besides water?”
She looked sheepishly in my direction, asking for permission. With eyes like those, I’d probably give her the damn world, but for now, I’d settle on giving her a soda.
“Sure,” I said before she asked for a root beer. I did the same and proceeded to order our lunches, forgoing Lizzie’s request for chicken fingers. I knew Billy could fry up a basket real quick if she hated the fish.
But I was pretty convinced I’d have a fish lover by the end of the meal.
“I’m glad my mommy can’t fix your arm,” Lizzie said, bringing my focus back to her. Now that her menu was gone, her head was resting on her hands, eye level with mine.
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Because you are kind of like a robot.”
I grinned. “Pretty sure a robot can do more than just wave.”
She watched as I demonstrated the point, holding up my prosthesis and giving her a lame wave with the frozen hand.
She laughed a high-pitched giggle that made me smile.
“How come it doesn’t move?” she asked, that inquisitive expression taking over her face as she gave my arm a once-over. She leaned in closer for a better look, my short sleeves providing an ample view.
“Well,” I said, pointing to the top of the device, “this one isn’t meant to. It’s just supposed to look like an arm.”
“But why?” she pressed. “If it looks like an arm, shouldn’t it move like one, too?”
I swallowed deeply, unsure of how to answer.
“If I were bigger, I’d make one that shot lasers out of the fingertips and could make you fly.”
I laughed. “That doesn’t sound like any arm I’ve ever met.”
She shrugged just as our drinks were being delivered. “I’d make sure it could do all the other stuff, too, but definitely lasers.”
In the little time I’d gotten to know Lizzie, I had no doubt she could do it, too.
Give her a few years, a little time on the internet, and she could probably build an entire robot, laser limbs and all.
“Mommy!” Lizzie’s voice exploded my eardrums a second before she hopped out of her chair and darted in the direction behind me.
Alarmed, I jumped up and turned but instantly calmed, seeing Cora wrapped around her daughter.
Still dressed in her scrubs, that reddish-brown hair pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head, she was immediately dragged to our table and instructed to sit.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I asked, a wry smile spreading across my face.
“I have a lunch break,” she scoffed before adding, “but, no, it’s a Wednesday, and I was just informed that means I only work a half-day.”
