Miranda [Watty Awards 2013]

Chapter 11

I slammed my fists down on the steering wheel and cursed.

            My car jerked to a stop in the middle of the street, night a veil of black velvet pressing in from all sides. Makeup was melting off of my face, mascara bleeding down my cheeks, hair its natural dark wispy cloak around my shoulders. I didn't have any energy left for a disguise, much less the will. I didn't know what I had right now.

            Except for Grim's imminent disownment and a shredded future.

            I cursed again, loudly, and brushed hair out of my face.

            There was a faint whimper from the backseat. I raised my eyes to the front mirror, seeing Ashleigh's lip trembling, seat belt too tall to fit across her torso. I calmed myself as best as I could, seeking out the priority. Shaking, I turned off my car without pulling over and climbed into the back next to the girl. She stared at me with wide blue eyes.

            "Hi," I said, sucking in a breath and trying my hardest to plaster on a smile. "Is your name Ashleigh?"

            She sucked on her thumb, debating, pale curls sticking to her forehead. The she nodded. "Ashleigh Rebecca Masons," she chirped proudly, with surprising clarity for one so small.

            "Right." I wiped a stray tear off of my cheek, tugging my old sweatshirt out from underneath a seat and hugging it. "Well, Ashleigh, my name is Alexa. But you can call me Lexi."

            She frowned. "What happened to my mommy, Lexi?"

            I was floored by the simple question, not having had sufficient time to come up with a predetermined answer. She couldn't be five; what else would she want to know? What was I supposed to tell her? I couldn't just say Mommy's dead, and you should be too but now your future is just as jumbled as mine is.

            And then it really hit me.

            What was I supposed to do with Ashleigh?

            "I want my mommy," she whispered, tugging on the end of her pink nightgown. Tears welled up in her eyes.

            "No, no, no!" I cried, waving my hands over her helplessly. "Please don't be sad, Ashleigh!"

            "I want my mommy!" she wailed, and it became a mantra, over and over again. I tried not to cry with her. "I want my mommy!"

            Sometimes I want mine too.

            "Sweetie, your Mommy is fine! She's fine!" I lied instinctively over her sobs.

            Her keening subsided enough for her to talk through her sniffling. "Where is she?"

            I bit my lip, guilt of lying quick to smack me in the face. "She had to go on a trip. But don't worry, because I'm going to take care of you while she's away. Okay? I'm your Mommy for a short time."

            She didn't look like she believed me one bit, but I got her calmed down to the point where I could have as much of a conversation as I could with a toddler. Like she knows how to help me sort this out, I thought bitterly. This is all my fault.

            I couldn't abandon her. I would have to take care of her until I figured out what to do.

            "How old are you, Ashleigh?" I asked, using the heels of my hands to wipe off the wet mascara before it dried.