Page 87 of Undone

“Pizza sounds perfect,” I said. “Want me to order?”

“No, I’ll go pick it up. Delivery would take forever at this hour.”

“Sounds good. We’ll be here,” I replied.

Dotty hesitated for a moment, her expression gentle as she looked at Gracie. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“We’ll be fine,” I said. “Go get the pizza. Maybe a little extra cheese will help.”

Dotty didn’t seem fully convinced, but after grabbing her keys from the counter, she gave us a small wave.

“Alright, I’ll be back soon.” The door clicked shut behind her. The oven’s hum and the ticking clock was the only sounds filling the silence.

Gracie sat at the kitchen table, her legs dangling off the chair, swinging back and forth absentmindedly. She hadn’t said much all night, only answering in one-word responses, and my heart ached knowing what was weighing so heavily on her.

With Dotty gone, I decided to try again, hoping that the quiet would give Gracie the space she needed to open up.

“You know, Gracie,” I began, crouching down so I was at her eye level, “if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m always here to listen.”

She shifted uncomfortably, her little fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Okay…”

I waited patiently. Gracie’s eyes peered up to meet mine, full of hesitation. “But… will you tell my Aunt Dotty or my dad?” she asked, her voice small, but loaded with concern.

“That depends,” I replied. “If it’s about keeping you safe, I might have to tell your dad, but if it’s something else, my lips are sealed.”

I made an exaggerated motion of zipping my lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. That earned me a tiny smile from her, but it quickly faded.

She hesitated, staring down at her shoes. “My…” I waited, giving her time to gather her thoughts. Her voice wavered as she spoke again. “My friend Candace… she wasn’t very nice to me today.”

A cold knot formed in my stomach when I saw the expression on Gracie’s face. Her eyes were red-rimmed.

I gently cupped her chin and lifted her face so she would meet my eyes. Her focus faltered, as though she wasn’t sure if she was ready to look at me, but I could see the silent plea in her expression.

“What did she say?”

She sniffled. “She said I’m not smart.” Her bottom lip turned down. “And that it’s weird that I don’t have a mommy.” Each word came out as if it hurt to say it.

A sharp, aching pain stabbed through my heart, and I wanted to grab her, hold her tight, and never let go. But instead, I stayed there, frozen, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

“No one should ever say that to you,” I said, my throat tight. My breathing felt shallow.

Gracie let out a shaky exhale, her shoulders slumping, defeated. “I’m not good at anything,” she mumbled. “And I don’t have a mommy like all the other kids. It’s just Daddy… I love him, but sometimes I wish I had a mommy too.”

“Oh, Gracie.” I sucked in a shaky breath, fighting back the pinch at the bridge of my nose. “None of that is true,” I whispered urgently. “Hey, listen to me.” I brushed a tear off her cheek. “You’re amazing at drawing, remember? That’s something special. You’re so creative and kind, and you’ve got a heart that makes everyone around you want to be better.” My own tears started to well. “You don’t need to be like anyone else. You’re perfect just as you are.”

But it didn’t seem to reach her. She didn’t respond, only stared at the floor as if she didn’t believe me. The silence was suffocating, and the ache in my chest deepened.

“I’m sorry, Noah,” she said suddenly, her words so soft it almost broke me. “I don’t want to make you sad too.”

I blinked, surprised.

“No, Gracie, no,” I said urgently, taking her hands in mine. “You’re not making me sad. I just… I just hate that anyone made you feel like this.”

Gracie pulled back, her face still trembling with emotion. “But she’s right. I’m not good at reading… and… and”—she let out a small hiccup—“everyone else has a mommy but me.” Her eyes met mine, searching my face for any sign of reassurance. “If I don’t have a mommy, does that mean no one will love me like that?” Her words cracked as they left her lips, and it felt like my heart splintered in a dozen places.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure, but the lump in my throat made it hard to speak. “You have so many people who love you. Your daddy loves you more than anything. You have your Aunt Dotty, all your uncles, and your papa. And you have me too, G. We all love you, and that’s what matters.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and I could see the confusion and uncertainty still clouding her face.

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