By Christin Parcerisa

A warm breeze welcomed us as I opened the coffee shop’s glass door. 

“Stay next to me, please,” I told Lily as I stood in line. 

My teeth were chattering, my chin trembled uncontrollably, and my boots were wet. I felt mortified about leaving a puddle under my feet. I hoped no one would notice, but Lily and I were the only people there with damp red hair and soggy corduroy coats.

I cracked my knuckles and took deep breaths before ordering; I didn’t want to burst into tears. 

“I’ll have a hot cocoa, kid’s size.” I paused when I heard my voice cracking. 

There was only one table available. Everyone was smart not to leave a warm place during a storm. I wanted to tell Lily to be careful with her drink so she wouldn’t burn her tongue, but tears started streaming down my face and I couldn’t get the words out. 

My phone rang. 

“Where are you?” Rick’s sister sounded upset. “You should be here. Everyone’s expecting you.”

“I had nowhere to leave her,” I whispered. 

I could feel all the eyes in the room staring at me.

Lily took the kids’ sized  paper cup in her tiny hand and dropped it, creating a puddle of thick brown liquid on the floor. I hung up. Lily heard me gasp, clumsily took the napkins from the table and got on her knees. I tried to pick her up, but she was determined to fix it. She was just making a bigger mess, her tiny hands covered with cocoa as her pants became stained. 

“It’s okay, I got it,” I told her trying to pull her up, but she shook her head and went back on her knees. 

She was struggling with the napkins, pretending to be older, believing she could fix it— sure that she could make it right. I’d been there before and wished I could tell her that this wasn’t something she could fix.  

The cashier appeared in front of us with a new cup and a mop. I wanted to return his smile, but it felt like too much effort. I sat Lily on my lap and showed her the new cup of cocoa, but she ignored it and wrapped her arms around my neck. 

As I caressed her soft cherry hair, my crying got louder. Her curls against my fingers felt like my own, and I could see myself in her hazel eyes and her freckled nose. There wasn’t much of her father in her, and now she wasn’t even going to remember him. I knew what would happen next. He’d become a shadow in the back of her mind, and all the memories of him would come from the stories others told her. Just like my memories. 

At least you won’t be moving from one house to another, begging for someone to stick with you, I thought, hugging her harder.

I tried to breathe, but the air hurt my throat. Lily couldn’t speak much yet, nor could she fully understand, but she held me tighter and stroked my hair too. My sobbing faded and I managed to let go a little, enough to see her sweet eyes looking back at me. 

I finally took a deep breath, then wiped the tears from my face. Lily reached out and touched my cheek. I managed to curve my lips slightly and put my hand on top of hers. Our eyes locked.   

“It’s only you and me now. But don’t worry, we will never be lonely,” I said. 

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About the Author

Christin Parcerisa is an M.F.A. in Writing candidate at SCAD. She has a Bachelor’s in Communications and has been a journalist for 12 years, and in PR for 5. She has written for publications such as Google’s blog, The Keyword, Travel + Leisure, FashionUnited, Forbes Mexico, Fortune in Spanish, and more!

She’s an avid reader and loves to write heartwarming stories about love and family. She’s currently working on her debut novel plus a few more stories, since she just can’t stop imagining new stories to tell. She also loves to dance, sing, and have good coffee with delicious conversations. 

She currently lives in Mexico City with her husband and her 5 month-old baby girl. 

Instagram: @khrissypv