Page 86 of Bottle Shock
Close enough that I can feel the warmth of her leg through my sweats.
“You’re going to regret that, because I’m picking the girliest movie possible.”
I laugh. “I’m a girl dad, I can handle girlie.”
She scrolls through streaming apps, humming to herself, before landing on a familiar blue poster.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
She glances over, testing my reaction.
I nod. “Good pick.”
I might’ve seen it once but can’t really recall much about it.
The opening credits roll. The room sinks into a soft glow—just the lamp beside the couch. Scottie tucks her legs up beside her, one knee brushing my thigh. I try to pretend it feels casual.
About fifteen minutes in, just as Audrey Hepburn’s character is stepping through a window in her black dress and pearls, Scottie speaks, voice quiet:
“This was my mom’s favorite movie.”
I almost sayBeth?—but she doesn’t mean Beth.
She means her birth mother.
Her voice is quiet when she adds, “Her name was Renee.”
I knew she was adopted. But I’ve never gave it much thought.
“You miss her?” I ask.
She nods slowly. “Yeah. I do.” Her voice catches—like a memory is tugging at her. “I used to be able to remember her voice. I held onto it for years. But I lost it. It’s just gone.” She swallows hard, blinking at the screen. “I hate that. I hate that I used to know something about her that I can’t get back.”
My chest tightens. I shift closer—just enough so she’ll know I heard her.
“How old were you?” I ask gently.
“Six,” she says. “She had type 1. Money was tight—we didn’t have much. Insulin is expensive, and she was working two jobs, and sometimes she’d have to choose between bills and her medication.”
Her voice doesn’t shake, but mine might if I try to speak. “She slipped into diabetic ketoacidosis. They got her to the hospital, but her organs were already shutting down. She went into a coma and didn’t wake up.”
I close my eyes for a moment.
So fucking tragic. I didn’t know, but I should have.
“CPS tried to place me with family.” She gives a small shrug. “That’s how I ended up with Beth and Gordon. They were my mom’s aunt and uncle. I’d never met them before—the family wasn’t close.” Her expression softens. “But they saved me.”
A tiny smile pulls at her lips. “They really did. They couldn’t have kids, but they always wanted to. So in a way, I guess we kind of saved each other.” Her voice warms, a feeling of peace in her words. “They’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I watch her profile in the flickering light—her soft smile, her steady breath, her quiet strength that I don’t think she even realizes she carries.
“What do you remember about her?” I ask.
She lets out a small breath, almost a laugh, almost a sigh.
“She used to sing ‘Moon River’ to me when I was falling asleep.” She tilts her head back against the couch, eyes shining just a little. “I loved it. She always smelled like freshly cut flowers—probably because one of her jobs was working for a florist. Her dream was to be an actress, but it never worked out. Which is a shame, because she really was amazing. Sotalented. Beautiful. Life really isn’t fair sometimes, you know?”
Her eyes soften, distant, like she’s looking at something only she can see.
