Page 57 of Rulebreaker
But she can’t resist answering me. “There’s no one better at fixing things than Uncle Atlas.”
My lips curve. “Yup. And I’ll tell you something”—I tap the tip of her nose, drop my voice to a whisper—“she’s right. So tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.”
There’s a long moment of quiet, nothing but the sounds of the leaves rustling in the light breeze, the birds softly chirping.
Luckily–however long–it’s only a moment.
But when Frankie gives in and breaks the quiet, the words claw at my middle and threaten to turn my insides to ribbons.
“What if the new baby doesn’t like me?” she asks morosely, her eyes filling with tears.
They slip free, slide down her cheeks, drip off her chin.
Then a sob hitches her lungs, and I haul her against my chest, smoothing my hand over her hair. “Oh, Frankie,” I say, my heart breaking for her. “Sweetheart, the new baby will love you.”
“Mom says babies don’t do anything for, like,ever!” she wails. “And if I can’t play with her or sing with her or draw with her then what are we going to do! She’s going to think I’m boring and th-then…she’ll hate me and we’ll never get to play Connect Four!”
She breaks off, sobbing, and though her childlike concernsdo send a bolt of humor through me–Connect Four, of all things–the truth of what she’s feeling and what she’sreallyworried about has me tabling anything close to amusement.
I hold her close, give her gentle words, and let her get the worst of those worries out.
And when she stops sobbing, I gently wipe her tears from her cheeks, from her lashes, but when I speak, my tone is firm.
Because it’s critical that she learn this lesson today.
That she doesn’t forget it.
Not tomorrow. Not ever.
“Look at me, tater tot.”
She doesn’t oblige me for several heartbeats. Then her eyes hesitantly drift to mine, and I hate the shame in the deep blue depths. Hate that I felt a similar shame–like my feelings weren’t allowed, like I would never be good enough, like I shouldn’t trust the hurt or pain to someone who loves me because they might look at me differently, might judge me, might think I wasn’t worthy of their care.
I eventually learned differently–or so I tell myself.
But it took a long time…or maybe, I still don’t completely trust it.
Either way, I don’t want that reality for Frankie.
“What you’re feeling is normal,” I tell her, gently but still firmly. “New things are scary, especially when those new things come with new people.”
She starts to look away, but I cup her jaw, keep her steady.
“It’s normal, tater tot.Normal,” I repeat when the shame starts to creep back in. “And a new baby won’t change anything with Auntie Aspen and Uncle Banks or your Uncle Dash and Auntie Willow, or Uncle Royal and Auntie Jade. And it won’t change it with me. We love you, and that will never–ever–change. No matter what.”
Her breath is shaky. “Even if?—”
“Even if,” I interrupt.
“Y-you don’t even know what I was going to say.”
I cup the other side of her face, kiss the top of her head. “Because it doesn’t matter. Love is the most powerful thing on the planet. It knows no limits and the best thing about it is that the more people you love, the more it grows. It’s not like a pie to be sliced, sweetheart, each piece getting smaller and smaller with more people joining in. It’s…” I smile and release her cheeks. “It’s a Connect Four tournament where more people means more fun.”
She pauses, considering that.
As she does that considering, I wait.
Because she’s young. But she’s smart.
