Sex, Lies & Nikolai Read Online Free Page A

still.
    These smiles are rare. My Scarlett is guarded most of the time. Seeing that smile is a balm to my heart; it makes everything bearable.
    How could she leave us? Leave her ?
    A mother should not be capable of abandoning her children so easily. But then Mother was never really a mother to begin with.
    “Can you tell me the story of the cow again?” she asks me, yawning into Rumple.
    I can’t believe she never tires of this story. I made it up an eternity ago and started telling her it when she was smaller and restless in bed. I think it resonates in her the way it does in me.
    “There was a cow named Belle,” I begin, “and she grew up on a tiny farm. Her owner, Pucker, didn’t give her attention. He turned the farm into a dust ball, until she had nothing to eat. She’d go hungry for days, dreaming of a better place, and wishing for a better owner to rescue her. But it took her a very long time to realize nobody was coming.”
    “She had to rescue herself,” Scarlett whispers, her eyes meeting mine.
    I nod grimly. “There are no princes in the night.”
    “You have to find them yourself?”
    “Yes.”
    “So she broke out and left.”
    “She wandered the empty roads alone, and it was scary. She didn’t know how she was going to look after herself without the help of anyone, even Pucker had given her scraps of food here and there. But she never gave up. She wandered from place to place –”
    “Until she found a pasture of land rich with grass filled with other cows,” Scarlett cuts in, memorizing the line to perfection.
    I smile. “That’s right.”
    “And they took her in because not everyone is like Pucker.”
    “No, not everyone is like Fu…Pucker.”
    “And now she’s happy.”
    “Yeah, she’s…happy now. All that work was worth it. Belle broke out of her home to find her real home.”
    Scarlett looks away in the distance, heavy with thought. She’s dreaming of being Belle. I used to dream of being her too. Scarlett doesn’t know I made the story up when I was given a toy cow at her age. It’s survived this long, sitting in my underwear drawer as a reminder of my dreams. No matter how hard life’s gotten I can’t seem to let them go.
    “Good night,” I then tell Scarlett, kissing her cheek and breathing in her scent. “I love you, Scar.”
    She doesn’t say a word anymore, but she kisses me back and I pull away, watching as she turns to her side, Rumple against her chest. She closes her eyes and doesn’t waste time falling asleep; it’s like she’s thirsty for it. Sometimes I wonder if it’s her favourite part of the day, escaping this bullshit and having dreams of a better life.
    She deserves better than this. Her innocence should not bleed out so early in her life. I wish she was just a normal kid, tantrums and all.
    I return to the kitchen and finish the last few bites of pasta in the bowl. It’s cold and mushy, but it’s so damn good I can’t resist. My whole body shakes as I swallow and lick the bowl, taking up whatever flavour of butter that’s left.
    Thank you, Scarlett.
    I thank her because I know, without a doubt, she purposely left some for me.
     
    *
     
    I use the little credit I have left on my phone and try calling Mom up. When I get nothing, I call everyone she knows and hit a dead-end.
    She’s disappeared off the face of the earth.
    I pace for the next hour and try to figure out ways to make money. If I had anything left worth selling I’d have done it already, but the unit is filled with bare minimum necessities as it is. Selling anything is out of the question.
    It’s times like these I wish we’d had a relative who wasn’t as drug dependant as Mother. Someone sweet and loving with enough money to look after Scarlett and do a better job than I am doing.
    I would be a beggar if I could, but the streets are already saturated with them and their fake limbs, card board signs, sob stories and all. I’m not the only person struggling. To everyone else