“Do you think they love us?”
My throat chokes hearing her soft, sad words. “I know they do. I think they miss us more than we miss them.” This time I can’t hold back my tears and they run along the sides of my face. My heart sinks not only for Dad but also for Merida. “I think they look out for us. My gram says when people die, they become stars. I have a star above my bed in Cherrywood so that my dad could always be with me,” I confess.
Merida’s nimble fingers touch my forearms. “Thank you so much.”
I put my arms around Merida, placing a soft kiss on her red hair. I’ve never been on the giving side of such affection, except maybe to my nephew and nieces, but they are still kids, too much in their own world.
“You can talk to me anytime, sweetie.”
11
KEITH
I rub my eyes again.
This cannot be real.
I look at Mere and Clementine hunkered on the couch, while my wife’s favorite show runs on the TV screen. It’s not only her favorite show, but her favorite episode.
It’s about the baby box.
Before I can interrupt, Clementine asks Mere about her mother. They discuss Melanie. My Melanie.
My hands curl tightly around the doorknob as Clementine puts her arms around Mere. My insides churn, watching them together. These were supposed to be Melanie’s moments, sharing her favorites with our daughter.
Clementine’s presence has somehow disrupted the stillness of my house. Once again, I’m hit with this feeling that we weren’t ready to take anyone, let alone someone like her, as my tenant. Someone who bulldozed into my home and wanders about as she likes, frequently repeats my wife’s lines, and bonded with my daughter better than me in a week’s time.
I step inside and they both turn to me. Clementine’s hand drops from Mere’s shoulder. On her first day, while she was lying on the same couch, I told her to not get too attached to Mere, but she didn’t listen.
She fucking didn’t listen.
My throat constricts imagining Mere after Clementine leaves in three months. I can already see her growing more distant than before.
“Dad, you’re home?” Mere’s cheeks are still rosy and her eyes misty with tears she shed with our tenant.
I can’t believe she didn’t come to me to talk about her mother.
My jaw clenches and my insides simmer with an unjustified anger. My brain knows it’s not Clementine’s fault that Mere chose her, but I can’t shake this feeling that my tenant somehow betrayed me and my request.
“Mere, can you give me a minute with Clementine?” I step farther into the room, closer to the couch.
“Is everything okay, Dad?” Mere looks hesitantly between me and Clementine.
“Yeah, all’s fine. Why don’t you go check what you want for dinner?”
When Merida leaves, Clementine stands before me. Twisting the hem of her off-the-shoulder T-shirt, she starts, “Keith, I’m—”
“I clearly explained on your first day that I can’t take any chances with Mere. You can’t get close to my daughter when you know you have only three months in St. Peppers.”
“You know about my probation period?” Her hands halt their movements.
“Your brother only rented the loft for three months. Don’t you know this?” I ask, my palms grazing my five o’clock shadow.
She shakes her head before looking away.
I’m momentarily distracted by her sad, embarrassed face, but the sound of Merida opening and closing kitchen drawers reminds me why I’m doing this.
“There’s nothing more important than Merida in my life. I can’t let anyone—” She looks up at me with hurtful eyes and it clenches my chest. I add to take some of that blame away, “Even unintentionally, hurt her. You need to respect the boundaries. You are a tenant, not family. You can’t linger and watch TV with Mere, waiting for me to order dinner.”