Bijou

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I gave Redd directions to the bar my father owned. I thought that would be neutral ground, a better place to have a conversation like that. I didn't like the idea of a confrontation at my home, and my sister or mother being there to witness it.

I had been debating for days about whether or not I should tell him what had been told to me, the hand my father might have played in giving me to Diablo. But I wasn't even sure if it was the truth.

Do I even want to know? Would it change anything?

There was no right or wrong answer for me. The need to know chipped away at my gut, it made my curiosity run wild. Then there was what I went through; even with all the answers, nothing would erase a fucking thing.

It had happened, with or without my father being a part of it.

All of it could be a lie.

Deep down, I wanted it to be a lie. I clung to that idea, allowing it to be the crutch I needed to still see my father as the man I remembered. That was fair in my eyes. If I allowed myself to believe everything Diablo had told me, I would have killed myself twice over.

“Bijou, can you braid my hair?” Vicki plopped herself down on the couch, cupping her hands and bumping me with her shoulder. “Hm, can you? Redd can't braid, he tried, and he sucked at it.”

Chuckling, I smiled. “Yeah, I'm sure it was a mess.”

Redd was in the kitchen, cooking pasta for dinner. Steam was swirling up from the pot, drawing long wispy fingers around his face. Stepping away from the stove, he chimed in. “Hey, I tried, isn't that all that counts?”

Rolling her eyes, Vicki shifted to look at him. “Trying would count, but the knots I had to cut out make it null and void.”

Holding up a wooden spoon, Redd playfully waved it in her direction. “Watch it, kid.”

Grabbing her shoulders, I moved her around and positioned her back to me. “Yes, I will braid your hair. And maybe I'll try and teach your brother so he can do it right.” Winking at Redd, I started running my fingers through her curls, brushing them out.

He gave me a tender smirk, and looked down, readjusting his eyes to the food. I couldn't lie, I liked being there.

In a way I felt like I belonged there. I didn't feel out of place or like some sort of intruder who was overstaying their welcome.

“Thank you,” she said, rolling her shoulders to sit straight. “My mom used to do it for me when I was little, but I never got the chance to learn how to do it myself.”

“Well, it's not too hard. I can tell you what I'm doing and then you can give it a try on my hair if you want.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah. I'd like that.” Fiddling with her thumbs, her eyes fell to her lap. She grew quiet for a long second, letting out a huff of air.

“Are you alright?” Something was bothering her, it was easy for me to see. I used to do the same thing when I was her age and wanted to talk more, but didn't know how to say it.

I wonder if Redd can see these subtle cues?

It had to be hard on Vicki to only have her brother. There was so much that Redd could never understand with a girl her age.

“I just miss her, I miss our mom a lot.” Her hands tumbled in her lap, eyes glazing over with sorrow. “It just. . . It hurts, that's all.”

My heart ached for this girl. She'd never have the chance to go through life with a mother. It made me feel selfish in so many ways.

I was upset and angry for having been taken from my family, but I was lucky they were still alive. For her, she lost her mother before she even had the chance to truly find her.

The bond was there, but her memories would begin to fade over time, they'd grow dimmer and dimmer until she wasn't even sure if her memory was real. She was barely seven when she lost everything she knew.

How does someone even deal with that?

Holding her arms, I rested my chin on her shoulder.“You'll always miss her, that's never going to change. But she's alive in you, you know that right?”

“What do you mean? How?”

Pulling back, I separated her hair into three sections, and started working the braid. “Well, she's your mom, which means half of you is her.” Tugging and pulling, the braid began to take shape. “So when you look in the mirror, maybe some of those times, it's her looking back.”

Flicking her eyes over her shoulder, the corner of her lip tugged up. “I never thought of it that way.”

“My mother used to tell me that when I was little. She would tell me that if anything ever happened to her or my father, just to remember that they made me. And that means they live on forever in us.”

I watched a shiver scale down her back as she thought about what I said. Her smile grew, cheeks puffing up and crinkling her eyes. “I like that, it makes me feel better.”

“Good, because it's true.” Reaching my arm around to her front, I asked, “Elastic?” Vicki dropped it into my hand and I tied off the end. “There, you're all set.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, turning to face me.

“You're welcome. Anytime you want your hair done, let me know, I can do other braids too.”

Throwing her body forward, she wrapped me in a big hug. I was taken by surprise, so I didn't hug her back right away. Her head pressed into my collarbone, arms squeezing tighter. “Thank you, Bijou. I hope I always have you here.”

My eyes began to water, heart warming and full. Curling my arms around her, I held her. And that hug, that single hug from this young girl meant the world to me.

After everything she had been through, she was still able to love, to be happy, to go on living.

This family might have been small, but it was complete. That was what counted, never having to feel like you were alone.

It wasn't about having a mom and a dad, it was about having people around you that loved you unconditionally.

I loved this little girl.

And right then I knew. . .

I loved her brother too.