Page 60 of The Omega's Surprise Baby
“I always wanted to have a pet when I was your age,” I continued. “But my aunt and uncle didn’t want animals in the house. They were pretty strict. I used to tell them my parents would have let me have a dog, but to be honest, I made that up. My parents passed away when I was six. I could never be sure what they might have wanted for me.”
Finally, Conner turned around to me. It seemed I managed to get his attention. “Why are you telling me this?”
I shrugged, faking nonchalance, though this topic wasn’t as easy for me as I liked to make it seem. “I just figured you and I might have more in common than you believe.”
He eyed me skeptically while Max poked his leg with his nose, trying to get him to throw again.
“I think your dog wants your attention,” I said with a smile.
“Oh. Sorry, Max.” He threw the stick again before turning back to me. “I’m sorry your parents are dead, but you still can’t…”
“Can’t what? Waltz in here and steal your father from you?”
Conner’s mouth opened but no words came out.
“Is that not what you were thinking?” I tried to keep my expression open, non-judgmental. He was only a little boy whose world was changing in a lot of ways that confused him. I wasn’t mad at him for giving me the cold shoulder, only a little sad because it meant I couldn’t hug him.
“That’s silly,” he said finally, burying his hand in his dog’s fur.
“Nah, I get it. I’m a stranger invading your home. That’s scary.”
He huffed. “You’re not scary.”
I had to laugh at that. “Okay, I guess that’s good.”
Conner chewed his lower lip, studying me. “How did your parents die?” he asked eventually.
I looked around the yard, found a small bench and walked toward it to sit. It seemed like we were going to be here for a while. “I’ll tell you if you come sit with me.”
Conner hesitated for only a moment. Soon, he was sitting on the bench next to me with an appropriate amount of distance between us. Fine with me. He didn’t have to jump into my arms. The most I hoped to achieve from this conversation was tolerance.
“My parents died in a car accident,” I told him.Not so different from what happened to your daddy.“The other driver was drunk. Ignored a red light and crashed right into them. My mother died on the spot, my father passed away in the hospital the next day.” I inhaled, trying not to let the memories of that day overwhelm me.
“That’s sad.”
I nodded. “Yes, they were great people.”
“You said you can’t remember them.”
“I remember bits and pieces. And I know what other people have told me about them.” I had a cardboard box full of pictures too. One of my most prized possessions.
Conner lowered his gaze to the ground, shoulders sinking. “Mary doesn’t remember anything. She was too young,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I think that’s horrible. But sometimes I’m jealous too.”
I had to keep myself from reaching out with my arm and pulling him close. It was the hardest thing, but I knew the gesture wouldn’t be welcome. “I understand,” I said instead. “It seems easier, doesn’t it? Like she never had to grieve because she doesn’t know what she’s missing. But you’re right, it’s horrible too. In a few years from now, she’ll realize you have all these memories to treasure and she doesn’t. Imagine not being able to remember the person who gave life to you, who loved you more than anything.” My voice cracked and I had to stop talking. It wouldn’t do for me to get too emotional now. This was about Conner, not me.
But perhaps showing some emotion helped, because Conner inched a bit closer to me. “I remember lots of things,” he said, his dog resting his head on his legs as if to comfort him. He really was a great dog.
“Good,” I said. “Hang on to those memories.”
“I will.”
“Want to tell me what your daddy was like? I’d love to know.”
Conner narrowed his eyes at me. Had I said the wrong thing somehow? Having this conversation was like walking through a minefield.
“I promise I’m not trying to replace him,” I tried to reassure Conner. “Trust me, I know no one could. No one could ever replace my parents either.” Perhaps I could become another source of support for Conner, though. “I know I can’t be your parent and I won’t try to be, but maybe we could be friends? I’d like that.”
“Maybe,” Conner conceded.
