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By Hyla Molander
She had recently returned from school one too many times, saying
“nobody likes me,” or “I’m not smart,” or “nobody wants to be my
friend.”
But that was as far as the conversation ever went. She really didn’t
want to talk to anyone. Not even me.
I pulled the covers back, exposing her angry, brown eyes. “That’s
just it, honey. It isn’t good if you don’t talk about your feelings.”
She wrapped her front teeth around the base of her thumb’s cuticle
and chewed on the skin. “I don’t have any feelings.”
“Honey, you’ll be going to see Steve. Remember the man Tatiana
went to talk to for a while?” My older daughter, Tatiana, had also
seen Steve for about six months, when she was five.
“Yes, the man with the dog. And the toys. A whole room full of
toys.”
“I’ll play there one time, but I’m not going to talk.”
The first time I took Keira to visit Steve, there was nothing wrong
with the fact that she hardly looked at him. It was perfectly
acceptable for Keira to squat down and line up a miniature family
of horse figurines while Steve and I chatted.
“Keira,” Steve finally said, “whenever you’re fine with your mom
leaving the room, just let me know. She’ll be right outside the door,
waiting for you.”
Keira remained silent, but brought one of the green horses over to
a table full of sand. She dug the horse’s hooves deep into a mound,
then began sprinkling dirt particles over its head.
Steve sat on the floor, next to Keira, and handed her a shovel and a
sifter. “Your mom is going to wait outside the door now. Is that
alright with you?”
Unlike Tatiana, Keira did not watch Erik slide down the kitchen
counter and stop breathing on our white-tiled floor. Keira did not
call out in the middle of the night for “Da-Da” for several years
after his death. But Keira did experience every ounce of pain that
went through my womb those last two months of her gestation.
Keira took her first breaths as Erik’s miniature twin. Black hair.
Upturned nose.
Some would have described her moods as “the terrible twos,” but I
knew that Keira had not been born into ordinary circumstances, so
I kept a careful watch over her.
Tatiana tried to make her little sister feel better. “Keira, we’re
lucky we have two daddies.”
Keira cried, “You got to meet him, Tat. You don’t understand.”
No matter what.