Chapter Text
This looks familiar
Vaguely familiar
Almost unreal yet
It's too soon to feel yet
Close to my soul
And yet so far away
I'm going to go back there
Someday
Sunrises, night falls
Sometimes the sky calls
Is that a song there
And do I belong there
I've never been there
But I know the way
I'm going to go back there
Someday
Come and go with me
It's more fun to share
We'll both be, completely
At home in midair
We're flying not walking
On featherless wings
We can hold on to love
Like invisible strings
There's not a word yet
For old friends who've just met
Part heaven, part space
Or have I found my place
You can just visit
But I plan to stay
I'm going to go back there
Someday
I'm going to go back there
Someday
It’s July 20th in Pittsburgh and there’s dew on the lake house grass. A little girl is trying to do a cartwheel off the coast of Lake Erie. She fumbles the execution; goes tail over teakettle and looks behind her to ensure the failure has at least provided apt entertainment for the pretty man and woman who feed her and tuck her in and sing to her and her stuffed animals. From the wooden steps that they watch her from, the man and woman laugh very musically and scold her very playfully and they’re already holding hands but the man leans his his on her shoulder and they look at each other instead of at her. She pays it no mind, much more interested in uprooting worms from the soil at the beach’s edge.
Samira spoke into his silver curls: “Did you think it would ever be like this?”
“Never. Not after… But I’m glad.”
“Still feel good about it?”
“Yeah,” Jack looked back out at their daughter before saying this, as if the great lake’s crashing waves, or his daughter proudly dangling a worm over her head for all to see, held the answer. “I guess I thought you only had to let go once. Then every few years, it’s just-”
“It starts all over again.”
“Right.”
“You’re always letting go.”
“Irony is, it never gets easier, but you always end up feeling better.”
“They’re there the most when you let them go,” She said. The girl pops up from behind a bushel of tall beach grass and waves for her parents to come join them. She has Jack’s shit-eating, trouble-making grin, and the eyes of a beautiful woman before Samira.
“Mia! No more worms. Come out here,” Jack clapped his hands together. When they arrived, Mia was waiting with a snake in hand. “I- Jesus, put the snake back, you freak!”
Samira doesn’t bother hiding her own amused expression when Mia finishes releasing the snake and meets their eyes again.
“Mia, part of the reason we’re on this trip is… well, we wanted to talk as a family,” Samira said.
“Are you getting married again?!”
“I- no, Mia, hopefully that’s a one time thing.”
“Awe,” She frowns, taking Samira’s hand as they start to saunter down the beach. There’s a boardwalk off the shore which partially alleviates the issue of sand versus prosthesis, and Mia is intent that she will walk on every third board. “I want henna again.”
“We can do henna whenever you want! We wanted to talk about- well,”
“Uh-huh,” She allowed Samira to help her up onto the conveniently placed bench they stumbled upon.
“Mommy and daddy are thinking of having a baby,” Jack ripped the bandage off, just as they’d discussed.
Mia couldn’t look more thrilled at the words her father had just spoken, beaming up at them in an instant. She opens her mouth, and Jack cuts her off.
“No, we can’t guarantee it would be a sister,” Her face soured, but she let Jack go on. “But we wanted to see what you thought. Having a half-sibling can be complicated, we don’t want to have another kid without talking to you first.”
“Babies are really time consuming. We never want you to feel like you’re not included, or that we’re ignoring you. So, what do you think?” Samira asked softly.
“What’s a half sibling?” Mia replied. Then, she took some time to think over their question, ultimately quirking a brow towards Jack and plainly questioning: “Is this about mom?”
“I- well,” Jack’s instinct was to say ‘no’ but he bites it back. Later, Samira will tell him how proud she is of this. “Maybe. It’s mostly about you, but it makes daddy think about your mom, yeah.”
“A half-sibling means you share one parent, instead of two. If we had a baby, you’d have the same dad.”
Mia blinked. Swiveled her head from Samira, to Jack, to Samira, and back to her father. “What does that have to do with mom?”
“Well, Mia, I loved your mom a lot. And I guess sometimes,” He glanced at Samira, voice wavering, “Sometimes dad is scared you’ll think I don’t, because now I love Samira, too. And… I get scared mom would be upset with me.”
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t know. Do you,” Jack’s breath hitched, “Even if you were okay with it, do you think mom would be upset if I have a baby with Samira?”
Mia pursed her lips. Like her father, she shifted and stared into the lake for the answers. Samira looked out, too, wondering what the Abbots saw that she couldn’t.
“I think mom would be upset you’re upset,” She said, finally ending the suspenseful moment. “You make him happy,” This was directed towards Samira, who was currently using all the strength in her body and mind to attempt not to tear up, “Just like mommy made him happy, and that’s why the pelican brought them a baby.”
Jack made a note to correct that later, when he was sure his voice wouldn’t break and tears would spill over while doing so.
“Mia, it’s still important to us that you want this, too. It’s a lot of work. We’d have to spend a lot of time focused on the baby, and the baby is gonna cry all night for a long time, and, again, it might be a boy-”
“No boys!” Mia whined.
“It might be a boy,” Jack picked up where Samira had been cut short, “And we don’t want to do it without you. So?”
A line of ducks waddled out from nearby woods. The Mohan-Flores-Abbot bench all watched their webbed-foot procession, until sand gave way to shallow waters and the family began paddling off along the shoreline, bobbing for insects and quacking to each other all the while.
Without turning her head from the ducks, Mia broke the silence once again.
“Do they get to call you mom?”
Normally her heart ached at the idea of being called mom by anyone but this time, Samira frowned, glancing downwards and finding Mia’s hand to give it a squeeze. “Yeah, why?”
“Well,” Now Mia’s lip quivered. Was the disdain for crying genetic, too? “What do I call you?”
“You don’t have to call me anything. You can call me Samira,” Mia sobbed and whipped her head towards Jack.
“So they get a mom and I don’t anymore?”
“Hey! Hey, kiddo, you always have a mom! Mom’s always gonna be your mom, even if you don’t see her again for a really long time, okay?” Jack cooed, pulling her onto her lap and wiping her tears away. Something about Mia’s outburst nagged and gnawed at Samira. Sure, Mia sounded angry, but there was obviously much more to it. While her dad died at a much later age she recognized ‘it’- recognized Mia’s bone deep fear, and even deeper longing.
“Mia,” She scooted closer to Jack and met the same brown eyes he was staring into, “If you ever want to call me mom, you know you can, right? It doesn’t mean your mom isn’t your mom. It just means you get another one. Just like,” She sucked in an unsure breath, “Like you’re still my daughter, even if we have a baby. Even if you wanna call me mom sometimes, but not all the time, it’s okay. Promise.”
It had been a shot in the dark- an educated one, but a shot in the dark all the same- and it seemed to be a bullseye. Mia was still crying (most of them were, or on the verge of it at least) but she quieted, sniffled, looked at Samira and Jack and seemed to wait for someone to pull the rug out from under her and say it was a joke. One sideways glance at Jack told Samira he was waiting for the exact same thing. Neither seemed like they were going to speak anytime soon, so, one minute later, Samira filled the silence.
“I get scared when I think about my dad sometimes. I used to feel like if I was happy, or I laughed or something, that I didn’t love him. Because if he died, and I was happy, maybe I didn’t love him. But I think you’re right, Mia: if they liked us being happy, why wouldn’t they want us to be happy now that they’re gone?”
Mia stared into her father’s eyes while Samira spoke. Some time after, she raised a hand to dab at his cheeks. “I want you to have a baby,” She said. Then, a moment later; “And, if it has to be a boy, you should name him after your dad.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Jack choked out, kissing Mia’s cheek. Samira reached up, brushing a curl behind Mia’s ear and wondering what secrets of the universe she knew to deal with her grief so beautifully at age 5, that Samira still didn’t always know at age 30.
“Yeah,” Samira whispered, leaning forward and kissing her forehead, then her father’s. “I think so, too.”