Brenda's Song

Chapter 2

I drove Amanda home after school, and we stopped to pick up Brenda from her day-care on the way. And of course, Brenda wanted a hug. Once we arrived at my home, we changed into comfy clothes before starting our project. Brenda played quietly while we worked. When it was time for dinner, my mom asked Amanda to choose something from the freezer. While we ate, I started to slip. I let my guard down just a little, and talked about the place we'd moved from, which was about two hundred miles away. After dinner, I did the dishes while Amanda gave Brenda a bath. My parents had a bedroom set-up as a hobby room. After dinner, they retired to that room, to allow Amanda and I to have a little privacy.

Brenda was still a bed-wetter, so she wore diapers. I'd changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants for the night, and sat on the end of the sofa, which is a recliner at both ends. Brenda came running over to me, as fast as her eight year old feet could carry her, and plopped on my lap. She was holding a book, wanting me to read to her. She was only wearing her diaper, and a faded pink T-shirt that had seen better days. It was at least one size too small, and had holes in it. Amanda was embarrassed, and apologized for Brenda.

"Brenda! Where did you get that shirt? I'm sorry, Doug. She has plenty of pajamas." I gently lifted Brenda off my lap.

"Pumpkin, that shirt doesn't look like it will survive the night. Do you have another one?" She shook her head no. I gently grabbed her hand.

"Come on, Kiddo. Let's go find you some pajamas." We walked back to my room, and Amanda opened Brenda's bag. She took out a set of pajamas, and Brenda shook her head no. Amanda pulled out a second set, and again Brenda shook her head.

"Pumpkin, do you want just a T-shirt for tonight?" She smiled at me, and nodded. I had just bought a package of white, v-neck, T-shirts. I opened the drawer and pulled one out.

"Tell you what Kiddo, I'll trade you. You change into this one, okay?" It hung to her knees, and sort of swallowed her up, but her smile was worth it. We returned to the family room, and I sat back down on the sofa. Brenda climbed back on my lap, book in hand.

"Okay, I guess. Get comfy." She sat across my lap and put her arms around my neck. I put up the footrest. I pulled my feet toward me so my knees were slightly bent, because I didn't want her to slide off. I read to her, using different voices for the various characters in the book. Her eyes were getting heavy, and her head slowly moved down to my shoulder. As I finished the book, she yawned, closed her eyes, and passed out. Amanda chose that moment to make her feelings known.

"I really don't get you, Doug. At school you're a jerk. You don't talk to anyone about anything not school related. You really haven't been any more open here, but you're so good with Brenda. No, not just good. You're amazing. You're so gentle, and careful with her. And reading to her, doing those voices. What is it you're trying so hard to hide from?"

I reacted badly, "I'm not the only one with secrets. You're Brenda's mommy? You would have been eight years old when she was born. There's no way, but you won't talk about it." I immediately felt guilty.

It was probably the emotion in my voice that woke up Brenda, because I wasn't speaking very loud. She looked at me with her sad, puppy-dog eyes, so I gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, Pumpkin. Sorry I woke you up." She wiped her finger on my cheek, as if she were wiping away a tear.

"You want me to tell you my story, don't you?" She nodded.

"Okay, Pumpkin, but I need you to do me a favor. If I start getting sad or upset, I need you to give me a hug. Can you do that for me?" She gave my neck a gentle squeeze.

Amanda said, "I still can't believe how good you are with her."

I proceeded to tell them my story –