I woke up downstairs on my mattress I’d set up in a corner by the back wall of my cabin. Blithe had been with me for a little less than two weeks, and we were beginning to fall into a rhythm.

I found her a preschool she enjoyed going to, which enabled me to call my boss, Derek, and work out some regular hours around her schedule. Blithe was beginning to open up to me a little more, and for the first time two days ago, she smiled at me without me smiling first.

The moment was forever etched into my memory, and whenever things started getting rough between us again, I conjured that moment. I held onto it until we could get back on solid ground.

She kept asking about Marlie, and I told her what I could. I tried to answer her questions to the best of my ability, but it was becoming hard. Marlie had requested that I not send her any photos of videos of Blithe. She said it would hurt too much, and she wanted to remember her daughter with her hair blowing in the wind as they stood looking out at the ocean.

It was hard for me to process why she wanted things that way, but I respected it nonetheless.

But this morning was different. As I lay there with my eyes gazing up at the ceiling, a tear rumbled down my cheek. Marlie’s doctor had called me to inform me that she had passed peacefully in her sleep. She had requested to be cremated, but beyond that, she hadn’t specified any specific protocol.

The doctor asked me what I wanted to do, and I had no answer for him.

Blithe’s light snores were fluttering over the loft railing, filling the corners of the cabin. I had no idea how I was going to tell Blithe, nor did I have any idea what I was going to do with her mother’s ashes. The pain in my chest was unbearable, and I had to roll out of bed and get onto all fours just to remind myself how to breathe.

Now it was real. Now, the only person Blithe had was me.

I figured distraction was the best possible avenue, at least until I could wrap my mind around things. I got off the floor and cleaned myself up, then headed into the kitchen to make some breakfast. I loved waking up to the smell of food when I was a child, so I pulled out everything I could think of.

Eggs and cheese and ham and bacon. A container of biscuits and milk and orange juice I had stuffed in the back of the fridge. I pulled out grapes and strawberries and started to cut them in half, and by the time I was ready to make us both omelettes, I heard Blithe stirring in bed.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I said. “Are you hungry?”

I could hear her stretching and groaning, and it made me smile. Her sounds were so delicate and high-pitched, like a baby doll winding up its gears. I heard her shift from her bed and slowly make her way down the stairs, her bunny thumping behind her as she wrapped herself in her blanket.

She came into the kitchen and climbed into a chair at the table before she answered me.

“Juice?” she asked.

“How does orange juice sound?”

“My favorite,” she said.

“Good, because it’s mine, too.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Really. Sometimes, I’ll even buy oranges and squeeze them myself.”

“You can’t do that. One orange doesn’t have a glass of juice in it.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I said, chuckling. “It takes five or six to make a decent glass.”

“That’s a lot of work,” she said.

“But it’s fresher that way.”

“The container is fine with me.”

“Oh, it is, is it?” I asked.

“Whatcha cooking?”

“I was thinking omelettes. You like omelettes?”

“What’s an ‘ommette’?”

“Do you like eggs?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“And cheese?”

“Yep.”

“How about bacon?” I asked.

“Who doesn’t?”

“How would you like it if all those things were folded together?” I asked.

“Okay,” she said.

“I’ve got fruit, too. Grapes and strawberries.”

“Oh! Grapes!”

I smiled as I slid a small bowl of grapes in front of her. She proceeded to devour them as I cracked the eggs into the pan. I popped a strawberry into my mouth as I stood at the stove and cooked. The smell of the bacon had my stomach growling.

I made a small omelette just for Blithe, and I slid it onto a plate. Then I set it in front of her before I cooked mine. I could hear her humming while she chewed, and the fact that she hadn’t said a word about it yet told me it was good.

After all, if someone was too busy eating food, it meant they had no complaints about it.

I sat down with my daughter and ate breakfast with her, my eyes dancing all along her features. The doctor’s voice still rang heavily in my ears, and my heart began to ache all over again.

I didn’t know what to do. Should I tell Blithe? Should I wait until she brought it up? Did Blithe know her mother was dying?

Would she even understand what death was and what it meant?

Paige would know what to do. Even though she seemed like a stranger to me, there was still a part of myself that longed for her. If she was here, she would know what to do.

No matter who she was, where she came from, or what the hell had brought her here in the first place, I knew her wisdom and intelligence were real. No one could fake what she had inside of her, and if she was here, I knew I could ask her what the fuck I should do.

I would be able to talk with her, which meant I wouldn’t have to shoulder this alone.

“All done,” Blithe said.

“Yeah? Me, too.”

“Breakfast was good. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Whatcha wanna do today?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “If you aren’t too tired from school, we could go to the park. Or the beach and throw seashells. But if you’re tired, we could stay inside. Maybe read a book or watch a movie.”

“I like the beach,” Blithe said.

“Funny. So do I.”

As I was washing and putting the dishes away, a knock came at the door. A part of me didn’t even want to answer it. It seemed like every time I opened the damn thing there was another piece of information waiting to throw my life off course again. I ignored it and hoped it was just someone passing out fliers or some shit, but then the knock happened again.

“Want me to get it?” Blithe asked.

“What did I tell you about answering the door?” I asked.

“Don’t do it unless you’re here,” she said. “But you are here.”

She had a point, and I sighed as the knock landed heavily on the door again.

Who the fuck wasn’t leaving us alone?

Tossing the rag into the sink, I walked over to the door. I motioned for Blithe to get on the stairs, just in case it was someone I didn’t know. The last thing I wanted was for a stranger to know I had a child in this place.

There were worse houses in the world, and I knew that my cabin was sufficient for a child. It might be small and old but at least it had more love in it than the sprawling mansion in which I grew up.

But people were judgmental and liked to equate nice material things with a steady life. (Those people were dead wrong). And I didn’t want anyone coming to snoop around saying that I didn’t have good enough accommodations for my child. The last thing I wanted was to lose Blithe so soon after finding out about her very existence.

I opened the door and took stock of who was standing on my porch, and my heart began to hammer in my ears. My eyes took in her short frame and her beautiful blonde hair fluttering around her shoulders.

She looked just as gorgeous as the last time I’d seen her, and her green eyes sucked me right back in before I could open my mouth to say anything. I couldn’t even think at first. It was like I was in a dream. A very good dream.

“Paige,” I said.

Her name was the only thing that came to mind. That and the fact that I was so glad she was there.