* * *
I look up from the coloring book I’d
gotten for my birthday as Momma walks in the room. I smile at her.
“Do you like your birthday gift, Coral?”
she asks.
“Yes, Momma. Thank you,” I tell her, and
then point at what I’d been scribbling. “Look! Purple clouds and gold
lightning, like Bashy’s eyes.”
I look back at the page, frowning. My
bottom lip pushed out.
“It’s so beautiful, baby! Why the sad
face?” She places her forefinger and thumb under my chin, bringing my head up so
she can see my face.
“I thought he was going to be here today.
He promised to be here for my birthday, Momma,” I say with a sniffle.
“Aw, it’ll be okay, sweetie! Maybe you
should go to the living room. I’ll get you a piece of cake and a scoop of ice
cream, what do you say?” She smiles and kisses my forehead.
“I guess. Is it chocolate ice cream?” I
ask.
“Of course, silly. That’s my favorite
too,” she says with a laugh.
I get up and run down the hall to the
living room. Turning the corner, I spot purple and green balloons, and then I
see him and his father.
“SURPRISE!” they both shout.
I giggle and run across the room to hug
the boy standing there. He bends down and lifts me up. His light blond, shaggy
hair tickles my nose, and I push it away.
“Bashy!” I screech.
“Hey, birthday girl! How old are you
today? Three? Five?” he asks, playing around.
“You know I’m four.” I hug him tighter.
“It’s late. I was thinking you wasn’t gonna make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss your birthday for the
world, little Coral Ann.” He kisses my cheek before setting me down on the
couch. “Now, I’ve got something for you, but you've got to come to my birthday
party next week. Okay?”
“Oh, your birthday’s next week? I will
ab-sap-o-lut-y be there.” I turn to see Momma. “Won’t I, Momma?”
“Absolutely, sweetie,” she says and
laughs.
“Bashy, how old are you gonna be?” I ask.
“Twelve. That’s eight years more than
you.” He smiles.
“How many’s that?” I start putting up
fingers as I count. “One, two, three—”
“It’s three of you, kid. Now, do you want
what Bastian brought you or you planning on spending the day counting?”
“Xander,” Momma says.
“Dad, be nice,” Bashy says at the same
time.
“Sorry,” Xander says and walks toward Momma.
Bashy turns and goes to the door to grab a
bag sitting next to it. I can see a rounded fluffy brown ear sticking out the top,
but Xander’s whispers behind me grab my attention.
“I don’t like it. He’s getting close. You
should’ve left by now,” he says to Momma.
“Two weeks. I promise. Let them enjoy
their birthdays before we go uprooting them again. Coral’s finally starting to
act like a normal kid . . .”
“Hey, earth to Coral Ann.”
I look back at Bashy. He’s snapping his
fingers in my face, and he smiles when he knows he’s gotten my attention.
“Sorry. Bashy, are we leaving again?” I
ask.
“Hey, don’t worry about that. Here, check
this out,” he says and pulls a humongous teddy bear, nearly as big as I am,
from the bag he’d brought over.
“It’s so big!” I squeal, grabbing it and
squeezing it.
It’s soft and gives slightly as I hug it.
“So, I take you like it?” he asks.
“It’s my new favoritest thing in the whole
world! Thank you, Bashy!” I say.
“Wait, I thought I was your favoritest
thing?” he pouts at me.
“You’re my favoritest person, silly!” I
giggle. “You’re my best friend.”
He sits down next to me and squeezes me
and my new bear to his side. “Coral Ann, I want you to remember, I’ll always
protect you. No matter what.”
Without much thought, I say, “I know,” and
smile, snuggling into his side.
* * *
