Booth Three

7

Diego looks up from his phone when he notices me watching him. He sits up straight, pulling the sleeves of his shirt past his elbows. I can see the hesitation in his eyes, but it's overshadowed by concern.

"Hi," I say.

"Hi to you too." There's a hint of humour in his voice, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I take a few steps towards him.

"You didn't have to come inside."

"I know," he nods. "But I couldn't just leave you like that. It didn't feel right."

"Oh." I don't know what to say.

"Is your daughter going to be okay?"

"Yeah," I give him a grateful smile. I'm surprised he asked that. "She has to spend the night for observation, but it looks like it was an asthma attack."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It must be rough to see her go through that."

"It's alright," I shrug. "It's part of it, I guess."

"How old is she?"

"She's two. Her name is Penny."

"And your other one? You mentioned you had two."

"Hayley's older. She just turned five."

"Oh, wow. That must be hard."

"It's not easy," I admit. "You don't have any kids, do you?"

"I don't, no."

"That you know of," I comment sarcastically, but he reads past the humour.

"Is that the case with your kids? The father doesn't know?"

"They have different fathers."

"Ah," he nods. "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

"No, that's okay. They're uhm... they're actually not my kids. I'm just their legal guardian."

"You adopted them?"

"They're technically my nieces," I explain. "They're my sister's kids, but she's not around anymore."

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry," his expression fills with remorse.

"She's not dead," I clarify. At least, not that I know of. "She just has some issues with drugs and just... took off after Penny was born."

"And you took over?"

"Well, I didn't really have much of a choice. I wasn't about to let her go into the system, and I was already looking after Hayley, so it was just the logical thing to do."

"That's... impressive. That's really impressive, Amelia."

"It's what anyone would've done."

"I don't think so," he shakes his head. "You need to give yourself some credit."

"For what?" I scoff. "Ditching them at daycare all day? Making them live in an apartment with no electricity or hot water? Giving them the absolute bare minimum?"

"For even trying at all."

"That's not good enough."

I don't know what's come over me. I'm always putting so much effort into acting like everything is fine. At work, I have to smile and be polite and pretend everything is fine. At home, I have to be happy and friendly and nurturing for the girls. Around Karla, I act like I'm doing well so she doesn't worry or feel guilty for not helping out more. But now, I don't have to pretend. I can speak openly and freely about whatever I want because it doesn't matter. I don't have to impress Diego. He can take me for who I am — take it or leave it.