Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Can you tell mama I’m sorry?”

Sonny quirked an eyebrow over at Jesse. The seven-year-old was sitting on the kitchen countertop as he washed the dishes from dinner. Amanda was giving Billie a bath and he could hear them both laughing over all the noise of running water; it was a reassuring sound. “Sorry?” he repeated. “For what?” He handed her a Tupperware container and a dishcloth. “Here, dry this.”

The little girl took the container and towel obediently but didn’t do anything with it, just held it in her lap. “For the other night,” she explained. “When me and Billie made her go get her gun.”

It felt like a bowling ball had dropped into the pit of his stomach. That night still hung heavy between all of them, despite time passing and Amanda attempting to forge on as usual with both kids. Her apology to them in the immediate aftermath had been painful for Sonny to witness: she had been a shell of herself as she hugged both girls and told them it would never happen again. Jesse and Billie appeared somewhat comforted, but they were young and didn’t quite grasp all the complexities, so Sonny was hoping they didn’t notice that there wasn’t much light behind their mother’s eyes. Amanda didn’t offer a word of protest when he drove her to therapy the next afternoon; he felt more confident that she knew she needed it now.

“Jesse, lemme talk to you about that, okay?” he said carefully, reaching to turn off the sink and dry his hands. He took the Tupperware and towel from her and set it aside - this required their full attention - and put a hand on each of the little girl’s petite shoulders. “The bad guy who hurt your mom, he really scared her,” he began, “and sometimes when you get really scared by something, you… you start worryin’ all the time that you’re gonna get scared again.” He was making this up as he went along, hoping the language he was using made sense to an already-confused seven-year-old. “She just wanted to protect you from somethin’ scary, that’s all. Does that make sense?” He held Jesse’s gaze, trying to interpret the look on her small face. Sometimes she appeared so young that he was transported back to the moments when he held her as a baby. Then there were instances when her eyes flashed and her features darkened and she took on the countenance of a rebellious teenager. Right now, though, she was just her, his Jesse, trying to figure out how to best love her mother.

Jesse nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it does.”

Relief washed over him. “And you know you and your sister can always talk to her, or me, about anything.”

“You guys always say that,” she said with a giggle and a roll of her eyes. “I know.”

Grinning, Sonny leaned in and planted a kiss atop her head. “I love ya.”

“I love you.”

Having her mother watch the girls that weekend was a good decision.

It was Sonny’s idea. He had suggested the two of them go somewhere for a couple of days and when an immediate and blatant look of bewilderment took over Amanda’s face - organize a trip? Now? - he quickly explained that all she would have to do is show up. That felt doable. In fact, a four and a half hour drive to Lake Placid felt downright extravagant. Sonny took the wheel and she leaned her head against the cool passenger’s side window and listened to him narrate the scenery. She didn’t ask questions about their destination because truthfully, she didn’t care much as long as they got there. Where they ultimately ended up turned out to be impressive: a resort by the lake surrounded by individual cabins. Their cabin was simultaneously rustic and luxurious: it contained a big, hand-carved wooden bed and a stone fireplace at its center. The floor was adorned with rich-colored rugs that made the space feel warm and inviting; a smattering of unique lamps and artwork brought interest to the rest of the area. A small porch jutted off of the side of the little house, looking out over the water.

Amanda and Sonny wasted no time before going out to explore. They set out on a four-mile hike through Henry’s Woods, navigating a trail that took them over old wooden suspension bridges that hovered above bubbling streams and clambering up big mossy boulders. Breathless, pink-faced, and victorious at the peak, they look a selfie, Amanda lips pressed against Sonny’s cheek, sunshine streaming behind them. They spent the rest of their day roaming the quaint downtown. Amanda appreciated that nowhere was particularly crowded and nothing demanded too much of her mental energy, which was not at a surplus as of late. It was all just fresh air and charming shops and eventually ended with the female half of an elderly couple stopping she and Sonny in a cafe to say you’re both absolutely darling.

Day eventually began to melt into evening. They each sat on an oversized chaise lounge chair on their cabin’s small deck. Earlier, Amanda had been delighted to discover two hugely fluffy white robes in the closet; she was snuggled inside of one now. (She had coaxed Sonny into one, too, after their shared shower.) Both were savoring whiskey neats in heavy, faceted rocks glasses that made Amanda feel like some kind of aristocrat - or at least like the type of person who could afford nice barware.

“How’d you find this place again?” Amanda wondered. Her eyes appreciated the view: dark green grass rolled out into the shore of the lake, which was flat and undisturbed that evening. It was cool out – not cold – as fall was only just creeping up on them.

Sonny took a sip of his whiskey. “I googled ‘upstate New York’ and ‘romantic places’ on my lunch break last week.”

“Clever,” she murmured into the rim of her glass. After taking a swallow of liquor, she set it down on the small table between them. She wriggled her toes, painted a deep sparkling purple, and consciously sunk her frame deeper into her chair. She made herself aware of the solidness of the wood planks holding her up and the softness of the fabric of the robe she was wrapped up in. Her body felt relaxed; she was almost afraid to enjoy it. You’re fine, you’re good. “It’s so quiet,” she remarked thoughtfully. “Sometimes I forget what that’s like, not to have noise all around us all the time…”

He set down his own glass and sat back into his chair. With the hand that was left dangling freely off one of the wooden armrests, his fingertips reached to link with hers. “D’you ever think we’ll move out of the city?”

We. Amanda was so grateful for that word. It used to terrify her but now it kept her in one piece each day. She hooked a pinky loosely with Sonny’s. “I dunno. I always just figured I’d raise a family there if it was just me and the girls, but-” She glanced over at him, appearing almost sheepish at the idea surfacing in her head. It was one they had danced around, or murmured about in the dark, but never concretely discussed. “I… I guess it depends if we…”

Sonny quirked an eyebrow. “We…”

She pulled in a deep breath then let it go slowly; the lake air felt good inside of her lungs. The words left her mouth in an earnest tumble: “I mean, I know I’m considered like, geriatric at this point, but if we had a baby. I think it would be nice to move somewhere bigger. Somewhere where all the kids could have space to run around.”

“All the kids,” he repeated slowly, as if he was trying to see how the words felt for himself. 

Amanda looked down at her left hand and used the same thumb to roll her engagement ring absently around her finger. It still looked so foreign on her hand. “And even if it’s just Jesse and Billie forever. I just, I just want them to grow up somewhere where they can be happy and safe.” The last word caught in her throat and she swallowed over the emotion that was rising up inside of her; she was so tired of crying. 

Sonny gave her pinky a gentle tug, prompting her to look over at him. “We’re gonna keep them safe,” he assured her, then added with a grin, “all of them.”

She felt a smile tugging at the corners of her own lips. She pulled herself up from her chair to drift over to Sonny’s, settling a knee on either side of his hips so she could sink down to straddle his lap. Her fingers played with the lapels of the robe he was wearing, which were open loosely to expose his bare chest. Amanda felt his hands sneaking upward beneath fabric to slide against her thighs, his palms warm as they squeezed the firm muscles there. She smirked.

“You’re an amazin’ mother, Amanda.”

“But.” The word left her mouth before she could stop it; she assumed it would be part of his sentence. You’re an amazing mother, Amanda, but I’m not sure you can handle anything else. I mean, look at you…

His face distorted in confusion. “‘But’ nothin’. You’re an amazin’ mother,” he insisted. “And if God gives us another kid, then that’d be one lucky baby.”

Warmth rose to her cheeks: from a rush of joy, from relief that Sonny had interrupted her negative thought loop. She wanted her confidence back - she felt like it had been drained out of her along with all the blood she had left on the pavement that terrible afternoon. She wished she could siphon some fortitude from Sonny, but he could only give her so much. The rest she would have to build back up on her own. She leaned her forehead against his, their noses bumping. “It’s just something I’ve thought about.”

His thumbs moved slowly up and down, grazing her inner thighs, and the sensation made Amanda shiver. “I wish you’d tell me more about what you think about.”

“It ain’t always pretty,” she mumbled.

Sonny tilted his chin up slightly to kiss her. He tasted like whiskey. “Good thing you always are.”

She let out a low laugh against his mouth and then went back for another kiss, one that was long and slow and gave him a taste of her tongue, too. “Charming bastard.”

“Make sure you’ve got everything, Jess,” Amanda called over her shoulder on the porch of her mother’s Rockland County home.

“I do, I promise!” Jesse yelled as she scampered across the small lawn to the waiting SUV, backpack bouncing on her back.

“Sorry we can’t hang around,” Amanda said to her mother, who was hovering next to her at the threshold of the front door. “Traffic’s gonna be bad…” 

She wasn’t that sorry; she really wanted to leave. Moments earlier she had caught sight of her father passed out in a chair in his bedroom, confirming her growing theory that he was overtaking some of his medications. Her mother had her hands full and she couldn’t necessarily fault her for failing to be his full-time babysitter, but Amanda also knew that Beth Anne Rollins had never been great at setting limits. It was one of the many reasons Amanda’s childhood had been so chaotic.

Beth Anne put a hand on her daughter’s arm and squeezed. “Amanda, wait a second. What’s goin’ on?” she demanded in a pressured whisper. "Billie said something about you havin’ your gun out in her room? Do I have to worry about you takin’ care of these kids?”

Amanda stifled a groan. She rubbed at the space between her eyebrows and shook her head. “Mama, no. No,” she insisted. “It was a misunderstanding. I’m takin’ care of it.” She glanced over her shoulder again to see Sonny, who was fastening Billie into her carseat. She was so grateful she got to escape with him. “We are.”

“You’re scarin’ me.” Beth Anne sounded more judgmental than concerned. 

I’m scaring myself if my mother is a better parent than I am. “Don’t worry about me,” she pleaded as she began to back away from the house, freeing herself from Beth Anne's grip. She bounded down the front steps, but paused on the lawn to call, “hey, mama?”

“What?” her mother responded irritably from the porch.

“Thank you,” Amanda told her honestly, “for your help.”

Amanda was nestled in Billie’s bed with a daughter tucked beneath each arm. The drive back to the city had been painfully slow, but she and Sonny had given in to a simultaneous tantrum for McDonald’s and were rewarded with silence as the two girls munched on chicken nuggets and French fries until they reached Manhattan. Now her children were bathed and in pajamas, smelling like fruity soap and the tiniest bit of Amanda’s Caudalie lotion that they begged for as a treat, awaiting to be kissed ‘goodnight.’

Jesse reached for her mother’s hand and ran her small fingertips over the stone of her engagement ring. “When you get married, are you gonna wear a big dress?” she wondered.

“I dunno,” Amanda replied. She couldn’t imagine herself looking like a fluffy white cupcake of a person. “Y’think I should?”

“Yeah, like Cinderella’s,” she answered eagerly. Then her eyes lit up mischievously. “Avery in my class, her mom got married three times.”

“Three times!” Billie echoed, although she likely had little understanding of the subject matter and just wanted to be in on the fun.

Jesse looked gleeful. “Yeah, and-“

“Easy, easy. Gossipin’ isn’t nice,” Amanda interrupted, although she was struggling to hide her amused grin. “And I’ve gotta talk to you guys about something.”

“Okay,” Jesse sighed. She relaxed her body into her mother’s side, defeated. 

Amanda smoothed a hand over Billie’s head. “The other night… when I came into your room and had my gun-"

“That was scary,” Billie said.

Amanda’s heart squeezed with lingering guilt and shame. “I know - and I’m sorry. I know I told you that, but I just wanted to make sure you two knew that things are gonna get better around here. I promise.” 

“I don’t want you to be sad,” Jesse told her.

“I’m not-“ Amanda stopped herself abruptly. She didn’t want to teach her girls that feeling things was bad; she didn’t want to raise them like she had been raised. Imagining them living life closed off and cold - as she had for so long - was devastating. “I know... but sometimes sad things happen and we feel down for awhile. It passes, though. I promise that it does. And when you feel it - the sad stuff - that’s how you know the good stuff is so good.”

“Because there’s gotta be good and sad,” the seven-year-old concluded slowly.

“You got it.” She smiled; she could practically see the gears in Jesse’s head turning as she was trying to figure it out. Amanda appreciated that: she was still learning, too.