Page 22 of Sweet Madness

There’s also the fact that I’m no good with kids. Well, I haven’t been around them much. I am an only child, and so is Ben.

I worry I’ll fuck this up and end up back home in less than a month.

“Don’t fuck this up.” My cousin reads my mind and warns me as we stroll along the illuminated path that leads us through the White House’s Garden.

“I won’t.” I hiss, feeling annoyed already by his comment. I wish he had more faith in me. I’m not the same punk that got into trouble every chance he could, testing not only Ma’s last nerve but authority as well. I have doubts about this job and my ability to guard someone’s life, but fuck it, I wish the man who’s like a brother to me had more confidence in me.

Ben, sensing my change in mood, stops and turns to look at me. His eyes, the same shade as mine, pin me in place. I see worry and love there. Shit. He loves this kid as if she were his own. The President is someone important to him too. Understanding dawns on me. “These people are my family too, Shaw,” Ben says, staring straight at me. “You’re a part of theirs now. This will be good for you. You’ll see.” He claps my shoulder tightly. “But if you hurt that little girl in any way, cousin or not, I will break your fucking face.” He threatens viciously.

I don’t have a chance to answer when the sweetest voice sounds through the garden. “Mister Happy, may I offer you a cup of tea?” A little girl dressed in pink—from the large bow in her hair to the pointy shoes on her feet—holds a tiny teacup towards a small blue bear with a pebble for an eye.

Ellaiza.

“There my little lady is…” Ben, the big oaf, booms.

The little girl gently sets the toy kettle down on the small table and then turns to us, beaming with the biggest smile.

Her smile is infectious.

“Hero!” The First Daughter gasps in excitement, stands up, and hurries towards us, completely forgetting her imaginary guests at the table.

“What about me?” Ben feigns hurt. “You wound me, Ellaiza.”

Ellaiza rolls her eyes playfully at her honorary uncle. “I see you all the days, Uncle Benji.” She extends her small hand towards Ben. “Did you bring something for our guests?”

Ben laughs and drops down to her level. It’s almost comical how big my cousin is compared to the child. “There’s one problem, though.”

“What is it?”

Ben places one chocolate cupcake with pink frosting on the table. “I only brought one for you.”

Ellaiza touches her chin with her index finger as if in deep thought, then her smile brightens, and her eyes grow wide. “That’s okay! We can all share!” Then the little girl with a trust fund that could most likely end world hunger breaks her tiny cupcake into pieces and shares it with us and her stuffed guest.

“Ella, you made a mess.” Ben’s laugh could surely be heard across the West Wing.

“Life is messy, Uncle Benji!” The little girl exclaims as she stuffs her face with what’s left of the cupcake.

My cousin looks up at me and grins, then turns his attention back to the little girl. “Those are some wise words, little lady.”

“I’m very wise!” Ellaiza jumps in place, joy lighting up her chubby face.

“That you are, my girl. That you are.”

I stand there in awe of this child’s kindness and how sweet this moment feels. So innocent and so kind. No wonder there’s so much love in my cousin’s heart for this girl and her father. We never had this back home. The air never felt this sweet in Montana.

“Hero, don’t you like cupcakes?” The soft voice interrupts my thoughts. I glance down at the small piece of chocolate cupcake and then at the girl. I hate chocolate. I hate sweets. Yet, I eat the cupcake and smile at her.

The first thing my cousin shared about the First Daughter is her fondness for all things sweet, particularly pink-frosted chocolate cupcakes.

“You are very kind, Ellaiza. Thank you.” I speak with my mouth full.

Her blue eyes narrow. “Ella. Not Ellaiza, please.”

Please.

This little girl belongs in a fairytale or a magical realm somewhere.

“Ella,” I try again.

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