Page 15

RUMI

“You’re sure you want to go to swim class tonight?” I ask Ava as she throws Evee’s diaper bag over her shoulder. “I really don’t mind taking her.”

Ava rolls her eyes ignoring me as she takes Evee from my arms, her smile big and bright ever since I put her in her swimsuit.

Swim lessons are something I started with my daughter as early as I could.

Mariah, my therapist, offered the idea as a way to focus on something for her safety that I could control to help with my postpartum anxiety—I was constantly spiraling about all the different ways she could get hurt, ranging from being allergic to something I fed her to being stolen right out of her stroller by an over-sized bird.

We also had plenty of sessions discussing rational and irrational thinking when it comes to Evee’s safety after that.

“Maybe if you would’ve called me when Reagan didn’t show up to her shift, I would believe you,” Ava scolds, and now I’m the one rolling my eyes.

“This whole time, I thought you were at the gym and then the mall like you told me you’d be until it was time for Evee’s swim class. Not working a whole other shift.”

I heard from Ava on our way home from Lenny’s last night that Reagan told Luke and Annie she found another job. They asked if she could finish out her shifts this week, and she agreed, but then she no-called, no-showed today leaving me to work open to close.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” I argue, knowing it’s a poor excuse for not calling her to let her know Reagan didn’t show up, but I didn’t want to call with news that I knew would make Ava upset.

“I know what you’re thinking, dummy,” she says, leaning into a hip as she holds Evee against her. “It’s written all over your face.”

She’s in jean shorts and a hoodie, her swimsuit underneath for when she gets in the pool with Evee for class. Her auburn hair is tied up in a messy bun, her freckles even more prominent on her cheeks after being out in the sun with Evee at the park today.

I cross my arms, still in my black apron, my white long sleeves stained with various brown stains from a solo twelve-hour day.

“You didn’t want to piss me off,” she starts, and I open my mouth to say something, but she continues, “even though I would’ve been pissed at the situation—and Reagan—but not at you.”

My mouth shuts, and I hate how she’s basically learned to read my mind in the last year and a half.

“Remember what we talked about yesterday? You need time for you, and you need to prioritize it,” she says, raising a brow at me.

“I had a whole day to myself. You were the one with Evee.” I don’t mean for the words to come out as a whine, but my voice raises one too many octaves to sound like my normal cadence.

Ava lifts Evee higher on her hip. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

I let out a sigh. “I do things for myself,” I argue, but part of me sees where Ava is coming from. Even though I don’t get many nights to myself, I think I do a good job of balancing being a mom and still being me.

I’m ready to explain that to Ava, but she beats me to it. “And staying up late after Evee is asleep to read your vampire smut books is not enough.”

“They’re called paranormal romance.”

Ava lets out a sigh. “Whatever they’re called, they’re not enough.”

“So what am I supposed to do for the two hours you’re gone?” I ask her, watching as Evee plays with the drawstrings of Ava’s hoodie.

“Whatever you want,” Ava answers. “That’s the whole point. You can literally do whatever you want and not have to worry about Evee, or me, or work.”

I tuck the pieces that came free from my braid behind my ears before crossing my arms over my chest. I contemplate her words, my lips curving into a small smile.

The idea of a few hours to myself after such a stressful, busy day sounds better and better the more we talk about.

How long has it been since I read my book on the living room couch instead of under my covers with a book light?

When’s the last time I made dinner for myself while blasting my boy bands playlist?

Or actually made it to the gym or mall after a shift?

I can’t even remember doing anything that wasn’t taking care of Evee, helping out Ava, or going to work since being released from the hospital last year.

“I guess I could find something to do,” I conclude softly, but my eyes go to my feet as a trickle of guilt drops into my stomach when the words leave my mouth.

“Hey,” Ava says, waiting to say more until I look back up at her. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Feel bad about looking forward to a night all to yourself.”

“How bad is it that I can’t remember the last time I had one?” The question hangs between us for a few moments. Forget not being able to remember doing anything for myself in the last year—I don’t think I can remember doing anything for myself ever .

For as long as I can remember, everything I did was for someone else. Whether it was trying to cheer up my mom after she had a fight with my dad, or helping her pack while hoping she’d take me with her when she left.

Whether it was lying to my teachers about where I got the bruises, or pasting the biggest fakest smile on my face so they wouldn’t call Child Protective Services, for 18 years, I lived to do anything and everything I could to avoid my father’s anger—and his hands.

The only thing I think I’ve ever truly done for myself is leave that house and go to college, something I did all on my own.

But I ended up leaving one monster to find another.

The first time Trevor hit me, it was like I was thrown back into my childhood, always walking on eggshells, wishing I could make myself disappear, wishing on every star outside my bedroom window to get me out.

I was back in my bedroom where brand new toys and clothes would appear the next day, along with the promise of ice cream for dinner and that he just lost his temper for a split second; that it was the alcohol; that it was an accident; that it would never happen again.

As if his presents and promises were enough of an apology for the abuse the night before.

With Trevor, I was trapped. Again . Stuck in the constant cycle of another man’s highs and lows. The highs that made me think it was the last time, and the lows that reminded me there never would be.

Ava closes the distance between us, wrapping her arm that isn’t holding Evee around me, pulling me in. My head finds her shoulder, and the embrace brings me back to where I am now. I feel Evee’s little hands wrap around the pieces of hair loose from my braid.

I’m not in that house.

I’m not with Trevor.

I’m here with my best friend and my daughter—I’m safe.

“I wish I had the right words to say, but I don’t. But I am here for you, Rumi. No one will ever hurt you ever again,” Ava whispers, and the words are exactly what I need to hear.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whisper back.

“Good thing you’ll never have to know.” Ava loosens her hold on me. Evee begins to babble, her hands now fisting my hair and pulling.

“Ow,” I say with a chuckle, grabbing her hand and carefully helping her unfurl her fists. “Someone’s excited for swim class.” The emotions begin to dissipate as Ava laughs too, both of us looking at Evee as she tries to bounce in Ava’s hold.

“Alright, girlfriend, we hear you. Enough with the heavy stuff,” Ava jokes. “But before we go, tell your mom to enjoy her night to herself.”

Evee makes a noise that is half-laugh and half-cry.

“Okay then,” Ava mumbles, and then walks over to the entryway and slips her feet into her shoes. She turns to look at me. “ Remember, you deserve this.”

I nod, internalizing the words to push out the guilt.

“Enjoy it, okay? And I’m talking about whatever,” she pauses, a little smirk gracing her lips, “ self-care you decide to partake in.” Her emphasis on “self-care” makes my eyes widen.

“Ava!”

She laughs, her head tilting back, making Evee wave her arms and let out a little giggle too. “Maybe I just meant washing your hair or taking a long bath with a face mask. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

I shake my head, meeting them at the door and leaning in to give Evee a kiss on the cheek, knowing that Ava is ready to get going, so they can be at least fifteen minutes early to the 6:30 p.m. swim class.

“I’m sure you have a lot of material you could pull from for that self-care too, after last night and all. Your new friend cleans up pretty nicely, if you ask me.” She winks before turning to open the front door of our house before I have time to come up with something to say back to that.

The whiplash from the last five minutes is enough to make my head hurt, but I should be used to it by now with Ava and her inability to let anyone around her be in any sort of pain. Always needing to be the one to make sure everyone in her presence is okay.

With such a busy day, I’ve barely had time to think about last night.

I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off since accidentally snoozing my alarm one too many times, barely making it to Hey Honey’s by the start of my shift where there was absolutely no downtime.

There was a steady, manageable flow for the entirety of the day that I honestly didn’t even notice Reagan didn’t show until it was already an hour past when she was supposed to be there.

“Have fun, Mama!” Ava yells over her shoulder, as she heads down the driveway.

The duplex we rent is owned by a leasing company, all the houses in our little neighborhood having been divided into side-by-side units available for rent and walking distance from Hey Honey’s, and we’re lucky to have our own driveway for the car we share.

“But not too much fun!” she adds.

“Enough, Ava!” I yell, but I feel the heat in my cheeks, and I can’t help but grin as she buckles Evee into her car seat.

Ava rounds the car, getting into the driver’s seat and blowing me a kiss as she backs the car out.

It isn’t until I watch her turn the corner out of our neighborhood that I close the door.

“A night to myself,” I repeat to myself.

It has been a while since I had some self-care .