Page 28 of Fighter
The run felt good at the end of a long day, allowing me to loosen up. A sense of relief came with knowing Serafina would have Ava all afternoon. She'd texted me to confirm a safe pick up, complete with a picture of Ava smiling in the backseat. I couldn't stop turning my thoughts in that direction.
Had I sprung this on Serafina too soon?
Was this the right move?
Was this better, or worse, than having Ava at the MMA Center?
Serafina would provide Ava some much-needed girl time, not to mention an earlier bedtime, as well as more of a home life. But she'd be away from me. Not that hiding under the desk really equated to quality daughter-father time. Still, I wasn't sure that would make things better.
Parenting caused the worst kind of life-questioning.
Shoving that aside, I wiped the sweat off my brow and headed through the side door of my three-car garage. The SUV was parked on the far right, and still-unpacked boxes lingered in the garage months after the moving company had put them there. I ignored them and hurried inside, eager to see how the day had gone.
Once I stepped inside the back door, I stopped to listen. Not a sound met my ears. The back door opened right into our dining area, which led to the kitchen. Beyond a few walls were the living room, bathroom, pantry, and my master bedroom on the far side. Upstairs, Ava reigned.
A lone light in the kitchen illuminated the island in the middle, which was full of food pulled from the cupboards. Beyond that came the soft glow of a lamp in the living room.
Weird.
“Serafina?” I said quietly as I advanced into the house. No sign of her in the kitchen, but the dishes from breakfast and too many dinners had been cleaned up. A rosy light came from upstairs, where Ava's door was cracked open only an inch or two. Her night light. She must be in bed already.
“Sera?”
A shuffle of noise caught my attention from the couch. Serafina looked up, her eyes unmistakably bleary, from where she sat and stared at a photo. The bright frame glowed an obnoxious neon pink whenever the lights around the edge were turned on. Inside that frame was a picture of Sadie and Ava the week before Sadie died.
My stomach dropped.
“Hey,” I said.
Serafina didn't even smile at me, which made me feel cold all over. Exhaustion was bright on her face as she set the frame down. Yep. I'd sprung this on her too fast and too soon after a traumatic incident. She motioned to the couch next to her, lips rolled together. I sat on the edge of the cushion, careful to keep some distance between us.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Ava was fine. She's been asleep since 7:30.”
7:30? I rarely even had dinner for her by then. “Was she tired?”
“Very.”
Not much relief followed, considering Sera's voice was monotone, drawn, and there was something like uncertainty in her gaze right now.
“Thank you,” I said and cleared my throat.
Sera winced as she leaned back against the couch, one knee tucked underneath her. Even though she was clearly worn out, she didn't haul out of here the way I would have. Instead, she hugged a pillow, folded her arms around it, and said, “Tell me what happened to Sadie.”
All words left me.
I stared at her, speechless. First, how did she know Sadie’s name? Ava must have told her. Second, this was the last question I expected. Maybewhere are the graham crackers?Orwhen will the laundry be done so Ava has clean clothes?But not this.
She didn't look away. If anything, her gaze became more intense. I'd expected a lecture, maybe, like Ava's teacher. A review of how to parent from people that never had to bear the responsibility of a little life on their shoulders alone. So a question about Sadie?
I'd rather the lecture.
Serafina straightened. “I'd love some sort of explanation. You didn't tell me that your six-year-old lost her mother a year ago. That she hates school, doesn't want to do anything but watch that stupid tablet, and hasn't once done a chore in her life. She's also so far behind in school that I'm surprised they haven't dropped her a grade. There's no fresh food in the house, the laundry hasn't been done in so long I couldn't find clean pajamas for her, and I'm pretty sure you have a mice problem. Three of them ran in front of me today.” She shuddered, then muttered with a vengeance. “Imma kill the little buggers tomorrow.”
Frustration drove her tone, and I realized too late that it must have been areallyhard day. Ava must have pushed her buttons and tried to watch the tablet incessantly or whined about not liking the food. All the food on the counter . . . had that been Serafina scavenging for dinner? I hadn't even left money for food. Had the laundry situation gotten so bad? Yeah, it definitely had.
I reached back, my hand on my neck, but before I could explain, she held up a hand. Then she drew in a deep breath, let it out, and met my gaze.
