Page 37 of Manic

A week ago, I was terrified of Tor finding out about Tindra.

Now, we're shopping for a family dinner with him.

"Mom?" Tindra's voice pulls me from my thoughts once again. "Can we get some of those fancy Italian sodas? The ones in the glass bottles?"

I smile, nodding. "Sure, honey. Pick out a few flavors."

As Tindra excitedly examines the different varieties, I find myself lost in thought again.

The past few days have been a rollercoaster of emotions.

That night at the clubhouse, when I finally told Tor the truth... I thought my world was going to end as I knew it.

Instead of it ending, it felt like it was finally beginning.

"I think I want to try the blood orange one," Tindra announces, holding up a bottle. "And maybe the lemon for you? You like lemon, right?"

I nod, touched by her thoughtfulness. "That sounds perfect, sweetheart."

She looks at the other options, narrowing her eyes. “Which one do you think Dad will like?”

I head over to the sodas and look over the options. “Your father always liked pomegranate, so I’d say that’s a safe bet.”

She smiles and grabs the pomegranate soda, placing it in our basket. “Okay, cool.”

As we finish our shopping and head to the checkout, I can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside me.

Tonight is going to change everything, I can feel it.

We’re going to be one big, happy family.

Still, I keep thinking about how different things could be, but none of it matters now.

All I can do is make sure I’m present and we make changes for the future.

In no time we’ve checked out at the store, fueled the car up with gas, and we’re back home unloading groceries.

We fall into an easy rhythm in the kitchen.

I’m in charge of the sauce while she works on the pasta and meat.

I’ve taught Tindra a lot about cooking and I do have to say she’s a very good cook.

I think Tor is going to be pleasantly surprised with how well his daughter can cook.

The familiar scents of garlic and herbs fill the air, and for a moment, I can almost pretend this is just another normal family dinner.

"Mom?" Tindra asks, coming over to check on the sauce. "Are we staying here? Like for real? I don’t want to get attached if we’re going to leave like we did in Atlanta."

The question catches me off guard, and I nearly drop the pan I'm holding. "Oh, honey. I … we’re not going anywhere, okay? This is home now. This," I wave my hand around the room, “Is our home.”

Tindra nods, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure. I don’t wanna get attached if we’re gonna end up leaving."

"We’re not leaving," I assure her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "So, smile and enjoy yourself because we’re not going anywhere."

As we layer the lasagna and slide it into the oven, I can't help but feel a swell of pride.

My daughter is so strong and resilient.

---