Page 8 of Breathe Again

“All good ones,” Bex mused, handing her fortune over to Olivia.

That was the drill. We read our fortunes and then turned them over to Olivia who collected them in a cookie jar in her bedroom. She held her hand out for mine and I tried to commit it to memory before handing it over as well.

The drive home was quiet. Bex proved her wisdom further by driving through the McDonald’s drive-thru to pick up a milkshake for Olivia. She knew the things that helped Olivia wind down, and strong, pleasant, sensory input was one of those things.

Usually, I was better prepared. I had a lot on my mind with this psych appointment looming over me. I wished my doctor would just give me something to calm my anxiety so I could start to feel better. I should have been better prepared for today. I should have had treats lined up for Olivia. Thank goodness for Bex thinking ahead when I wasn’t thinking at all. I needed to pull myself together.

Bex dropped us off and we went inside, discarding our heavy jackets and boots at the door. Olivia put on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkhaban, and I blended smoothies with fruit and spinach and orange juice, then gave her some space.

I took my smoothie into my sunroom to work while she decompressed. The screen remained black in front of me. I, too, was overwhelmed by the day. My girl, Dory, swam into my head.

Just keep swimming, Mara.

Zale came home late.

When we went to bed he leaned over and gave me a quick, hard, kiss.

He fell asleep quickly.

I pressed my nails into my thighs, and more than one tear escaped before sleep finally claimed me.

Best Mom Award

Mara

Thursdays were a big day for us, especially for Olivia. They took a turn a few months ago when Bex and Willa started taking Olivia to the animal shelter every Thursday afternoon. Even though Bex was a new mother to six-year-old twins, she still wanted to build a closer relationship with Olivia and taking her to the animal shelter on Thursdays was her idea.

The twins stayed with their grandparents Thursdays and Fridays, and Bex worked from home which allowed her great flexibility. Having her own online jewelry store made her the master of hertime and her schedule, allowed her to volunteer, and she liked to take Olivia with her.

It was Willa who got Bex involved initially. Willa owned a graphic design company, but she also worked part-time at the shelter as the volunteer coordinator. Willa, too, had a great deal of flex in her schedule, allowing her to support Olivia with this new venture.

The shelter had seemed like it might be a good fit for Bex and Olivia, and it was. Olivia helped in her way and was making connections with new people. She was also learning to rely on Bex, and the cuddle therapy with the kittens was priceless.

It was there that Olivia met Sirius Black, our cat, a tiny black female she named after her favorite Harry Potter character. We adopted Sirius soon after they met, and the little cat slept with Olivia on her bed, got up in the morning when she did, and trucked along after Olivia wherever she went. Willa told me that it happens like that sometimes, a cat will choose a person, like Sirius took to Olivia, and they act more like a dog with their person.

As much as she wanted Olivia, Sirius was stuck with me on Thursdays. At the shelter, Olivia mostly sat in Willa’s office making signs for the enclosures, playing with any kittens Willa brought in for social time, and eventually curling up to draw on her iPad. She enjoyed it. I did too.

Sometimes.

While it gave me time to write, uninterrupted, getting her ready to leave the house was challenging.

I stuck my head in her bedroom door. “Happy Valentine’s Day Little bird! Did you remember you’re going to the shelter today?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. It’s time to get up. We need to do a few things and then get ready.”

“I’m not getting up yet.” She burrowed deeper under her blankets.

It was already nine o’clock. Bex would be here by twelve-thirty. This should be enough time, but I knew we were cutting it close. I went over my options. I could insist but that would stress her out and stressing her out right before she needed to go out was never a good idea. I could negotiate a get up time, but her routines took time and we needed to get started. She’d already slept well past her usual.

I’d have to entice her out of bed. I sat on the edge of her bed, my hand light on her back.

“If you get up now, I’ll have time to make you French toast and we’ll still have time to frost the Valentine’s Day cookies. How does that sound?”

She opened her eyes. I looked down at this sweet, complicated child Zale and I had created, and I was amazed as always. Amazed at how much she’d grown and changed. Amazed at how drasticallyour life changed when she entered it with the intensity of a rocket ship’s reentry into the atmosphere from outer space.

She turned my suggestion over in her mind.

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