Page 50 of Late Nights & Love Lines
“I see.”
Seren finally lifts her gaze to mine. “My friends didn’t want—or weren’t allowed—to go with me, and everyone was making fun of me. I had to hide in the bathroom at school sometimes.”
God, do I know how that feels.
“I’ve spent my fair share of time hiding in bathrooms, Seren. I can imagine how hard this has been on you.”
Her face morphs into a frown, and I’ll take that over sadness any day. “Why did you hide in the bathroom? You’re beautiful, and you talk back to my dad.”
My laughter is sad. “First, you’re beautiful too. It’s just hard to see that when you’re twelve sometimes. I didn’t always stick up for myself. I was homeless when I was sixteen and had to learn to be tough.”
“What?” She gasps. “Sixteen. What did you do?”
“My home wasn’t safe anymore. My stepdad was violent, and my stepsister was malicious and abusive in her own way. Being homeless felt safer than being home. But the reality is, I didn’t have much. So the kids made fun of me for showering in the locker rooms, and for wearing the same few outfits until they were in tatters. Kids can be cruel.”
“You really lived on the streets? The teachers didn’t help you?”
Her innocence makes me want to protect her at all costs.
I nod. “A few tried, but the system is sort of broken. And I didn’t really sleep on the streets. My dad had this Jeep, and I knew it had been left to me. His friend stored it in his barn until I turned sixteen, and on my sixteenth birthday, I showed up to get it.”
Her eyes are the size of saucers, so I continue with a story I’ve never told anyone. “His son was home from college, and he took me out into a field and showed me how to drive the thing. Then I went to see Pappy and Rosa. I couldn’t tell them what was happening, but he always knew when something wasn’t right. When I refused to tell them why they couldn’t write to me anymore, they helped me register the Jeep and get insurance on it, then I lived in that until I graduated. I had a really great counselor who helped me apply to college, and I got a lot of scholarships.”
“Pappy loves you so much. Why would he let you be homeless?”
“Oh, Ser. He does love me. That’s why I couldn’t tell him. I was a dumb kid who was afraid of what my family would do if they found out he was helping me.” Admitting that makes my palms sweat. “My point is, I know how hard life can be sometimes.”
“Geez. You had it a lot worse than I do.”
“Just because someone’s story sounds bad doesn’t make yours any less valid. Your feelings matter. You’re going through something really tough, and that matters. Don’t ever diminish your story or your feelings so someone else can shine, sweetheart. Use your story to empathize and make yourself stronger. That’s how you win in all of this.”
She jumps to her feet and throws herself at me. Her arms wrap around me in a vicelike hug that makes my lungs shrivel, then stop working altogether. I’m not a hugger. Pats and high fives are my comfort level, but the longer she holds on to me,the more the frayed edges of my past braid together to make something stronger than I’ve ever known.
“I want to go to the sand dance, but I don’t know how to do my hair or anything,” she admits, then pulls out of the embrace.
My arms stay awkwardly frozen in the air, almost as though I wasn’t ready for her to end the hug. But that can’t be right, so I quickly drop them to my lap.
“Well, I’m not really a girly girl, but I can do some fancy braids. And because it’s at the beach, I’m pretty sure that means it’ll be super casual.”
“You’d braid my hair for me?”
Oh, sweetheart. “Of course.”
“What do I wear? Daddy said there would be a lot of kids.” She lowers her lashes and stares at the floor. “Kids who don’t know what my mom did.”
It hits me then. She’s lonely, and the idea of making new friends, friends who haven’t heard about her history, feels like a new beginning, a breath of fresh air after nearly drowning. It’s how I felt every summer when I’d go to camp. No one there knew how shy I was, or how bad my panic attacks were. I could be whoever I wanted or needed to be, and it was such a freeing experience.
“I think it’s an excellent time to start a new chapter,” I say, peeling myself off the floor.
“You do?”
“I do. Let’s get you ready for all those kids who are about to meet their amazing new best friend.” Covertly I knock on wood for good luck because you seriously never know with kids. Sometimes they truly are little assholes.
“Okay. Will you…” She picks at her fingernails again. “Will you come with me?”
Shit. My entire body is screaminghell to the no, but one look at her little face, and I dive headfirst into the deep end, not caring that I don’t know how to swim. “Sure. I’ll go.”
She runs forward again and envelops me again. “Thank you.”
