"Poor little darling," Wanda said as she hugged the little girl tighter to her chest. "She must miss her mama something awful."
Daddy John said nothing as he looked from Leroy to Wanda and back. Leroy nodded silently and watched his girlfriend coddle the sleeping child without disturbing her once. He gave a sigh and shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm really sorry, Johnny," he said, kicking at the ground. "I know just how it feels. Wanda can't have kids either, you know."
Daddy John grunted in response and turned to look at Wanda. She gently rocked Eileen in her arms with a wistful look on her face. He noticed she was moving her lips without saying anything.
"I'd never have pegged Wanda as the motherly type, to be honest," he said.
"Eh. I don't think she even knew until now," Leroy said. "Having your little girl around must have set her off somehow, I guess."
"I guess you'll want her back now," Wanda said. Her mascara was running as she nuzzled the little girl's face. "What I wouldn't give for a little angel of my own...Here, take her. If I hold her much longer, I may never be able to let go."
Daddy John took Eileen in his arms and gently placed her in the car seat, buckling the seat belt over her slight frame. At four years old, Eileen was still somewhat small for her age.
He looked back at Leroy and Wanda as he climbed back into the driver's seat. Wanda was dabbing her eyes with one of Leroy's old bandanas as she waved at him.
"Don't be a stranger, now," she called out as he pulled away. "If you ever need somebody to watch her again...you know who to call."
*****
"Get that brat away from me," Carrie said, waving Daddy John away as he attempted to set Eileen down on the couch. "I said, get her away from me!"
"Aw, come on, Carrie! She hasn't seen you for almost two weeks. She hasn't stopped asking 'Where's Mama?' since you left."
"Mama? Is Mama home?" Eileen said as she reached towards her mother. "Mama?"
Carrie took a drag off her cigarette and blew smoke right in the girl's face. "Beat it, kid," she said as Eileen tried to wave the cloud away. "And don't call me 'Mama'. It's Carrie from now on, you got it?"
"Mama?" Eileen pleaded, her eyes watering from the smoke. "Mama?"
"Ain't too bright, are you?" Carrie rolled her eyes as she took another drag. "Not Mama, Carrie.Cah-ree. Carrie."
"Carrie," the girl repeated, looking up at her mother's face. She smiled earnestly, hoping for a sign of approval. "Carrie!"
"Uh huh," Carrie said with another eyeroll. "You're learning. Now get out of my face." She waved the girl away with her free hand.
Carrie had started drinking shortly after the baby died. She sat on the mangy couch in her bathrobe, staring at the blank TV screen, only stopping every so often to shoot daggers with her eyes at the little girl who sat quietly on a throw rug in the middle of the room.
At four and a half, Eileen knew enough to keep her back turned toward her mother. If she looked her in the eye, Carrie would contort her round, pockmarked face to resemble what Eileen usually only saw in her nightmares.
She ran her fingers through the tangled mess of blond hair hanging off her Barbie doll. Looking up, she stole a quick glance at her mother. Carrie's hair was dyed a dull shade of copper and tangled far worse than the doll's.
I'd love to know what you think. - Lee
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