How I Got This Kid: Part 2

     On the Sunday of that long weekend, Darcie called me to inform me that Dean had died, and Tillie, as Matilda had chosen to be called a few years earlier, would like a visit from me. During that phone call from Darcie, I couldn't contain my sorrow for poor Tillie, now orphaned from suicide and addiction. Darcie briefed me on the condition of Dean's house that she witnessed on that chaotic night, circumstances that can only be described as squatting. Dean's medical condition had become so dire due to his alcohol abuse that he was unable to care for himself, let alone a young girl who had never been taught the necessary skills to take care of herself or her home. I was furious with Dean for forcing this sweet girl to fend for herself physically and emotionally, and for the first time since her death, I was more than a bit ticked at Lily for leaving a world in which her daughter would ultimately be left alone.

    Before I left home for that visit with Tillie and Darcie, my partner Noah asked me if I would be bringing Tillie home with me, if we were about to be parents. The thought honestly hadn't crossed my mind, but I allowed it to penetrate into my deepest crippling anxieties on the drive over. When I arrived at Darcie's, I asked her what the plan was for Tillie; Darcie said there was no plan, there was nowhere for her to go. Darcie had had her share of wayward teens living in her house, as well as three boys of her own to look after, and Tillie's other viable option, Dean's brother, was a 48 year old bachelor living in a one bedroom apartment. Not the best place for a teen girl with father issues. 

    My anxiety peaked. 

    Until.

    Tillie came out of the bathroom, a ravishing and delicate baby bird no more than 90 pounds, green eyes so dark with tragedy that I got chills. I hadn't seen her in a couple of years due to pandemic restrictions, but when she saw me she threw her arms around me and hugged me with her whole body. Then she released me, except with her hands - they gripped mine still as she looked into my face, searching for any kind of reprieve from her inner torment, no matter how brief.

    And just like that, as we held hands in that moment, I became a mother.

    To a teenager.    

    At age 40.