Page 65 of Because of Her

“So why not a bunny?”

“Too little, I want to be big.”

She fills her mouth with the last of the lasagne. The sound of mumbling and keys rattling breaks the silence. Through chews, Maisie looks at the entranceway. The sling pulls her arm tight against her chest when she tries to lift it to point downthe hall.

“Can I see Cassidy before I go back to Mummy’s? I want to show her my swing.”

“Sling,” I say, enunciating the ‘el’ sound. By the time she figures out how to say the word, she won’t need to anymore.

Something weird happens to my thoughts. Maisie misses Cassidy. I miss Cassidy. But from the way she avoids my gaze every time we pass in the hall, I’m not sure if Cassidy feels the same. It’s been almost two weeks since Maisie got hurt at the park. At first, I thought Cassidy was giving us some time. Some space I don’t need, but I understand why she would think I did. I’d moved back into Audrey’s place for the week to help her care for Maisie, but her responses to my attempts were short and closed off.

I don’t blame her. I overreacted after Maisie got hurt. At the hospital, I pushed Cassidy away, believing we had both done something terrible. Thinking it was our fault Maisie fell. But after some time to think about it, I came to my senses. If Cassidy wasn’t there with me, I probably would have been scrolling on my phone anyway. Her presence made no difference to the outcome. If anything, I’m glad she was there to help get us to the hospital.

I thought showing up to support her when she launched the coffee cart with Amira would break the weird ice that had formed between us. Would make her see I don’t blame her at all. Instead, I left feeling more unsure than I had been before. We were close that day, she said she missed me. So why have our conversations since then felt so forced?

“You know what,” I say as I lift Maisie off her chair. “Let’s go see if she’s home.”

If she won’t come to me, I’ll go to her. I want to get back to all those nights we spent curled up together. Me and Cass. And the only way we can move past the weird tension between us is to actually move past it. I crave Cassidy, in more ways than one, and if the only time I get to spend with heris when we play happy families with my daughter, so be it. I know everything is still raw for her, and that the thought of being any kind of parental figure is unnatural and daunting. Especially after Maisie’s fall. But I’m going to do everything in my power to show her, little moment by little moment, how right we are together. The two of us, but also the three of us.

Before I can stop her, Maisie runs through the hall, slamming into Cassidy’s door. My knuckles tap against my sternum as I work to hold in the bubble of emotion that threatens to burst.

I’m still centring my thoughts when Cassidy appears in the hallway with a smile. Maisie’s hand is still up, fist formed as though she wasn’t finished knocking. In her work clothes, she looks exhausted, but also, enchanting. Dark jeans hug her hips, and her loose-fitting tee suits her perfectly. A laptop bag swings over her shoulder, with a denim apron slung over it. She just got home from work, hasn’t even stopped to put her things down.

“Hi,” she says as Maisie latches onto her leg in a hug.

“Will you come watch the rest of my movie?” Maisie asks.

Cassidy shuffles back out of her grasp. She looks between Maisie and me, her eyes catching on Maisie’s sling.

“How’s your shoulder?”

Stomping her foot, Maisie scowls. “It doesn’t even hurt now but I still can’t go to ballet.”

Looking up at me, Cassidy fiddles with her fingers. “What about,” she says as she drops to Maisie’s level, “instead of a movie, I show you how to do some ballet?”

Maisie jumps up and down, but Cassidy places a soft hand on her good shoulder, pausing her.

“Some gentle ballet moves.”

The bubble in my chest bursts in the most spectacularway. But I can see the way Cassidy picks at her fingers in the absence of her ring.

Under instruction, I push the coffee table against the wall to create more space. Cassidy plays some classical music on her phone, and Maisie brings her ballerina doll out from her room to sit next to me on the couch.

“You’re the audience,” she tells me.

Together, Maisie and Cassidy practice their points. Twisting their toes out and stretching their legs. I lose focus on the specifics; the French words Cassidy uses to describe the movements. Instead, I’m lost in the beauty of my two girls dancing before me.

The swelling inside me intensifies. All those fairytale stories I told in my head are coming true, and I wonder if all the mess of the divorce was worth it to be here right now. To have found my way back to Cassidy.

My mind is stuck on how perfect this moment feels, and I can only hope Cassidy feels it, too. I want her to know how perfect the three of us are, and I need her to understand she doesn’t have to be a mother to Maisie.

Maisie has that, with Audrey, and I would never try to replace my ex-wife in that way. Cassidy can be something entirely different to Maisie. I don’t care what kind of role she takes, as long as she is a part of our lives.

I can hear the delight in Maisie’s voice every time she talks to Cassidy. There is some connection between the two of them I can’t explain. But I see the way Cassidy’s eyes light up when they are together, and I know she feels it, too.

The weight of Maisie’s head lands on my lap and the couch shifts as Cassidy sits next to me. They giggle through their yawns.

I’d known both Cassidy and Maisie would love the light and sound exhibit, it’s why I pushed Cassidy to come with us. What I hadn’t expected was how well the two mostimportant people in my life would connect over the experience. Cassidy’s ‘real life ballerina’ story became the foundation of their friendship.

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