Chapter Text
“Mama?” Angela whispers to a sleeping Amanda, poking her side.
Amanda stirs, but doesn't respond so she tries again.
“Mama?” She says louder, poking her again.
This time Amanda slowly opens her eyes, looking blearily at the little in front of her.
“Are you ok, Ang?” she asks sleepily, pulling Angela closer.
“Why love bad people?” Angela asks quietly, looking over at her curiously.
Amanda blinks a few times, attempting to wake herself up. “Why do you love bad people?” she clarifies and the little nods, leaning into Amanda’s touch as she gently scratches at her scalp.
“Who’re you talking about, baby?” Amanda questions, “I don't really know how to answer.” she admits, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
“Mom and dad.” Angela mumbles, tears welling in her eyes, “Mom bad.”
“Oh,” Amanda whispers, holding her a little tighter, “It's hard with family.”
“You love them because they're your parents, regardless of what they did to you,” she starts, “That doesn't make it ok,” she adds quickly.
“It's hard to believe that the people that raised you, that were supposed to love you unconditionally, could be bad. That they could somehow be wrong.”
“They are.” Angela whispers, earning her a proud smile from Amanda.
“They are,” she agrees, “The way both your parents treated you wasn't ok, even if your dad says he's trying to be better.”
Angela hums, letting her eyes close as Amanda wipes her tears before slowly attempting to soothe her to sleep. “Wanna talk dad,” she admits quietly, “Mama come?”
“Mama will always be there when you want her,” she promises, kissing the little's forehead, “Big and small.”
With that reassurance Angela drifts back to sleep, Amanda following soon after.
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And despite the conversation taking place in the middle of the night as a toddler, Angela meant what she said.
After a more awake conversation with her girlfriend, Angela emails her dad. Assuming her mom was least likely to see it that way.
Angela: wanna meet for coffee?
He answers almost immediately, his response much more formal than her original email.
Dad: Angela,
I'd love to, let me know when you're thinking and we can compare schedules.
Best,
Dad
Rolling her eyes as she reads the response to Amanda, she continues to email back and forth with him.
They set a time for next week, and the nerves set in, continuing to worsen as the day gets closer.
“What if it's a trap?” Angela asks worriedly as they eat dinner the night before, “And mom's there to yell at me or something.”
“If it's a trap, which I don't think it is, we leave immediately and move on from there,” she says confidently, “I'll protect you from her, so will your brother.”
“Should I text him?” Angela asks, taking a sip of her wine, “My brother.”
Amanda hums, “That's up to you to decide. You definitely don't have to update him, but I'm sure he'd appreciate it.”
Pulling out her phone, she sighs and quickly texts her brother before putting her phone down to continue dinner, switching the conversation to the latest episode of Dateline.
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The couple sit together in the booth of a coffee shop, watching the front door as they wait for Angela's dad.
“There he is.” Angela says nervously as the front door opens, her dad walking in and heading straight to the register to order his own drink, incorrectly assuming he beat them to the shop.
Amanda holds her girlfriend’s hand reassuringly, the duo watching Angela’s dad stare at his phone as he waits for his order
It’s not until he has his drink that he looks around and notices the two women. He nods at them and walks over to the booth, sliding in across from the two women.
“Polpettina,” he murmurs lovingly, visibly restraining himself from reaching out to hug her, “And you must be Amanda.” he adds, holding his hand out to shake hers.
She nods and shakes it with the wrong hand, not wanting to release Angela’s hand as she squeezes it nervously.
“Hi,” Angela whispers, staring down at the table, “Does mom know you’re here?” she asks anxiously, glaring at Amanda when she holds her other hand to stop her from picking at her skin.
“She does,” He admits with a small grimace, Angela looking up at him in surprise, “I didn't want to lie to her.”
“We argued for a few days, but I finally told her if she was willing to lose me as well as you two, she could try to stop me,” he explains, “She didn't say anything after that.”
She stares at him in shock before turning to look at Amanda, “What the fuck?” she whispers, burying her face in Amanda's neck as she wraps her arm around her, “What the fuck?”
Amanda rubs her back reassuringly, keeping an eye on the expressions on his face.
“Angela just said her friend Amanda was joining us,” he starts as he looks curiously between the two women, “I assume you're her caregiver?”
She looks down at Angela who nods subtly, lifting her head to look at him again, tears still welling in her eyes.
“I am,” Amanda answers with a small smile, reaching down to gently wipe her eyes.
“And girlfriend.” Angela adds as she watches his reaction, deciding she might as well toss that in before they attempt to fix the relationship.
He blinks a few times, looking between the two women. “I just want you to be happy, Angela.” He says genuinely, “And if that's with Amanda, that's fine.”
Angela stares at him in shock again, “This isn't real,” she mumbles, looking up at Amanda again, “Tell me this isn't real.”
“It is,” she murmurs, gently cupping her chin, “It's really happening.”
“I'm so sorry, Polpettina,” he murmurs sadly, “I know the words are hollow, but I'll try my best to earn your forgiveness, however long it takes.”
She hums, not able to believe or process what she's hearing. Overwhelmed, she leans over to rest her ear over Amanda's heart.
“Just grounding,” she mutters before Amanda can ask, “I want to stay, I just need a few minutes.”
“She's ok,” Amanda assures the man, holding the woman’s head to her chest, still rubbing her back, “This is just a lot to process.”
He nods, “I understand.”
“I never learned how old she is,” he admits quietly, “Is it rude to ask?”
Amanda sighs, “A complete stranger? Probably. Your daughter? It's not, but it's up to her,” she answers, “Right now this is just an adult needing a minute.”
He nods again, the table going quiet as Angela regulates herself, eventually sitting back up.
She rests her head on Amanda's shoulder before answering her dad's previous question.
“Between two and six,” she tells him, Amanda cutting in after her.
“Prolonged abuse in childhood can cause increased and unstable age ranges in littles,” she adds, keeping her tone conversational.
Amanda smiles apologetically at Angela when she glares at her half-heartedly, but Angela’s dad looks at her like he’s been struck.
“I would never-” he starts indignantly before stopping himself, visibly angry, “I promise I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness, but I have another present for you.” he says, firmly changing the subject.
He picks up the bag he’s brought with him and passes it to the two women, “I guess it’s more returning something than buying something,” he adds as Angela looks in the bag.
Inside is a stack of picture books that her dad used to read to her before bed when she was younger. An activity that was eventually joined by her brother until he grew bored of it, leaving the two alone again. He continued to read to her until her mother stopped him, citing it as one of the reasons she was manifesting little traits.
“I kept them in my office,” he admits quietly, “I’d hoped you could read them with your kids someday. Which you still can, but I figured you would get enjoyment out of them now as well.”
Angela looks at the books, tears streaming down her face again. “I wanna go home.” she mumbles, sighing in relief when Amanda nods and takes her hand.
“Thank you for meeting us for coffee,” Amanda tells the man as Angela climbs out of the booth, standing next to her facing the floor, “It was nice to meet you.”
“Bye dad.” Angela mumbles as she pulls Amanda towards the door, leaving the man alone in the coffee shop with his thoughts.