Read Online Falling Together by Marisa de los Santos - Free Book Online

small children. Once Pen had crumbled before that expression. Even now, her first impulse was to take back what she’d said, but she resisted. Instead, she smiled a lopsided smile at him, and said, “Man apologizes in nick of time.”
    Then, sailing toward her from across the room: “Mama!”
    High-pitched, even squeaky, it was the most soul-catching sound Pen knew. She was turning in its direction before she had even slid off the stool, and, when she saw the girl bounding rabbit-fashion through the great room, she felt what she always felt, her body opening toward her daughter in a great whoosh of breathless blooming.
    “Sweetpea,” she whispered, smiling, and then Augusta flew against her with a whack, and Pen knelt down to gather all of the child into her, pressing her cheek into the cloud of dark hair, her palms against the narrow back. At five, Augusta was already losing her baby softness, was becoming pared down, almost sinewy, her back a delicate landscape of spine and shoulder blades that Pen could feel through her shirt.
    “I am so happy to see you,” said Pen.
    “My heart leaps up, Mama.” It was what they always said.
    “My heart leaps up, too.”
    She drew back and looked at Augusta’s face, which was smeared with colors, brilliant, glittery, and iridescent as a hummingbird’s neck. For the first time, Pen noticed the child’s outfit: black go-go boots so big they were merely drifting around her calves, a scratchy pink tutu, a silvery tank top slipping off one scrawny shoulder.
    “Hey there, Pop Star.”
    Augusta shimmied her shoulders and sang a few lines from a song about going out with her girlfriends and leaving the boys behind.
    “Sounds good to me,” said Patrick.
    Pen could imagine her before-kids self being utterly disapproving of this, the little girl in makeup and grown-up clothes thing, the pre-pre-pre-tween fascination with fabulousness. But seeing it in action, she found it didn’t bother her. Little girls were magpies and butterflies, gaga for everything shiny, in sheer, giggly, joyful love with transformation. Pen looked at Augusta, so at home in her body, so convinced of her own gorgeousness. Keep it up, honey, she thought. Hang on to it with both hands .
    “Hi, Pen.” Lila stood behind Augusta, smiling and tugging at her T-shirt in a way that made Pen’s heart ache. At nine, Lila barely qualified as chubby, but, despite her parents’ efforts to celebrate her good points, which were many (smarts, big blue eyes, and an uncommon sweetness), self-consciousness was setting in.
    “Hey, lovely,” said Pen, standing. Lila’s eyes widened with happiness. Pen did not spend enough time with Lila for the two of them to really be close, but Pen knew Lila regarded her with the kind of shy, eager interest that verged on adulation. She remembered feeling that way herself, about her fifth-grade teacher, her friend Sydney’s teenaged sister who began loading her neck with rosaries (to her family’s deep and everlasting horror) and her arms with rubber bracelets before most people in Wilmington even knew who Madonna was. Pen could not imagine Tanya’s enjoying Lila’s crush on Pen, but to her credit, she had never tried to squelch it.
    “You guys have fun this weekend?” Pen asked.
    “We totally did,” said Lila, reaching out and giving her sister’s hair a gentle tug. “Can Augusta come back soon?”
    “You know what? I was just about to talk to your dad about another visit. You think you could help Augusta change and get her stuff together, while we discuss it? That would be a huge help.”
    “Definitely!”
    Pen and Patrick watched the girls zigzag through the furniture and out of the room, hair flying.
    “Lila’s a doll,” said Pen. “Aren’t they supposed to get mean by the time they’re nine?”
    “Yeah, she seems to be sidestepping that stuff so far. Hope it lasts.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So what’s up? You need another weekend?”
    “My college