And that was when I met her-this little orphan girl, all bones and big eyes standing in the streets as she belonged to no one. My mother didn't hesitate. I watched her from the window as she wrapped her shawl around the girl's shaking shoulders, whispered something I didn't hear, and brought her home like she'd always been missing from it. Mama named her Abigail. Said she looked like an Abigail. Said she felt like one too.
"She's adopted by you, Nico?" Theo asks, tilting his head slightly, like he's unsure where to place this piece of my life in his understanding of me.
"Of course!" I reply without missing a beat. "But it's not really official. She didn't belong in any orphanage. Mama found her on the streets." Abigail, sitting across from us, throws me a look-a huff, a puff of air from her nose that pretends to be an annoyance. But I catch the way her lip twitches before she breaks. We both laughed, and I nudged her lightly. "Don't worry, Abby," I say, mimicking Theo's casual lilt. "Theo's not gonna judge ya. We're your friends now."
She looks at us then, her small fingers curling into the sleeves of her too-big sweater. "You... two have been friends since before me?" Her voice is careful, like she's trying not to sound like she minds. She said it with a little unease. I wonder why.
I glance at Theo. He's already smiling. "More than so," I say, nudging his shoulder. "I mean-look at us." We both grin, teeth uneven and a few missing from childhood stunts gone wrong. Abigail stares for a second, then lets out a soft giggle. It's shy and short. "Where do you live, Theo?" she asks suddenly, eyes wide with interest.
"Well," he begins, stretching the word like he's telling a secret, "I lived in Byron Bay before."
"Huh?" Abigail continued to ask out of curiosity. I can see that she wanted to learn. "Byron Bay?" she echoes. "Where's that?"
"Australia."
Her eyes go round. "Oooh."
And then they're laughing together-genuine, almost startled laughter. Like neither expected the other to be funny, but they're both surprised in the best way. I sit back for a second, just watching them. She's still cautious, still a little cracked, but she's letting the light in.
I feel like maybe this odd little family of ours might just work.
The three of us had been out here for a while now, showing Abigail what the world looked like when she weren't stuck behind walls. Grass stuck to our clothes. Dirt found its way under our nails. The trees towered like giants, and we were tiny little dwarfs. Abigail had taken to it with wild energy-too wild sometimes. It seems she got comfortable around us.
"Ah, no, I don't wanna climb the tree!" I yelped, stepping back.
"Come on! It's harmless!" she laughed, already halfway up. "Look at me! Weeee!"
She dangled upside down from a branch, hair spilling like a curtain toward the dirt below. My stomach twisted watching her sway there. She'd only just been adopted-what if she got hurt? What if they blamed me?
"No, no... I don't want to," I said, more quietly this time.
Her smile faltered, just a little. She let go, landing with a small thud before brushing herself off. "I'll just stay down here with Theo," I muttered. I sat down beside him already, knees pressed to my chest. Theo didn't look up from his project. Pebbles and rocks lined up neatly in rows, a small world slowly taking shape beneath his fingers.
"What's so fun with Theo?" Abigail scoffed. "He's just... building rock buildings."
She sounded annoyed, but I knew she wasn't really angry. Not with Theo. Not really. Just... left out. Theo didn't even blink. He kept stacking, adjusting, whispering little names to each part of his miniature kingdom. I giggled softly, watching him flick a tiny stone into a place like it really mattered.
"What even is that?"
He finally looked up, proud. "A rock city. My rock city. These are cars, that's the road... and this?" He pointed to a taller stack near the center. "That's the tower me and Nico live in together."
Something in my chest fluttered at the way he said that. It was simple. Like I was already a part of something special without even asking.
"Yeah... so what about me?" Abigail gave Theo a look.
Theo paused. For a second, the wind seemed to hush. "Hm.. you're right here," he answered, pointing to a little space with flat pebbles and ringed by twigs. "You take care of the animals in the zoo."
Her brows furrowed. "What? I don't wanna be in a zoo. I wanna be in the tower. With you guys... and Nico." Theo looked at her, quiet. Not a cold one, he's just confused. Then, softly, he said, "Eh, I think... I only get to call Nico 'Nico.'"
"But why?"
"Because I'm closer," he said, with a small, honest grin. It wasn't meant to be cruel. I knew that. But I saw the way Abigail's shoulders tensed, her eyes flicking down to the dirt. Theo didn't notice-he was already going back to rearranging his city. He didn't mean to draw a line between her and me. But he had.
And Abigail felt it. Hard. Even if she didn't say anything after that.
I know Theo. He's a bit outspoken, but it's hard to ignore how he can make things awkward at times. Still, I never really noticed how Abigail might feel when he's around. She's quieter than usual when he's here, her eyes darting around like she's not sure where to put herself. But I didn't do anything about it, not really. I just smiled and told her, "Ah, Theo's gonna go home early. Let's play inside later."
The way Abigail smiled, all her worries gone in an instant, made me feel both relieved and guilty. "Okay!" she said.
After Theo left, I waved him off, and his mom held his hand, pulling him toward their car. A dull ache settled in my chest, watching them leave so quickly. It's always like that with Theo. His visits feel like they're over before they even begin, and I can't shake the feeling that something's missing. But I don't get why it makes me feel sad.
"Um... Nicholas?" Abigail's voice breaks through my thoughts. She's standing there, looking all timid, fidgeting like she's unsure if she's about to make me uncomfortable. "Can I just call you 'Nic' then?"
I glance at her. Her expression is soft, almost pleading. It feels like she's trying so hard to find a place with me, to be someone I want to keep around. "Oh, sure. I don't mind," I say, my voice a little too quick. Maybe I said it too eagerly.
I don't know if I'm ready to let someone that close, but I don't want to disappoint her, either. I've only had Theo before, after all.
We go inside, and I lead her to the couch. She's sitting too close, her small frame curled up next to me. It's... fine. It's fine. But there's something about the way she looks at me, like she's trying to figure me out, that makes me feel a bit...
But she does seem happier when Theo isn't around.
"Abby, your hair is nice," I say, reaching up to touch the strands that fall around her face. It's the first thing I've thought to say, and it sounds awkward, but she doesn't seem to mind. "Want me to style it? My mama... she's got this drawer full of hair clips and accessories."
Her eyes light up like she's been waiting for me to say something. "Okay, okay! Anything, Nic!" She giggles a lot.
I dig through my mother's cabinet, the familiar clink of hair accessories filling the quiet room. My mother's things always feel like someone else's, like a dream I can't quite touch. I remember once, when I was younger, I tried on one of her huge pastel purple berets. When she saw me, she just smiled and took a picture. I felt my heart race with embarrassment. But, somehow, I was happy. Maybe that's what I miss-those little things, the moments where everything felt a little less heavy.
I braid Abigail's hair carefully, trying not to pull too hard on her thin strands. I notice how fragile she looks. I think about what happened to her. Her past is a constant question in my mind, one I can't answer, but it doesn't stop me from wondering.
Then, I hear them-my parents arguing. It's muffled, distant, but it feels like it's filling the whole room. My father's voice is mostly the one raising, cutting through the air.
"You brought in a child? Are you serious, Nora?"
There's a crack in her voice when she answers. "What else am I supposed to do? She was scared, just wandering around the streets-do you think any other person would be willing to take her in? You know how our neighborhood is. They don't care about familial values, and this child needs someone to take care of-"
My father interrupts her, his words a thunderclap in the quiet room. "There's no damn way you're just going to let her stay like that! Think about the expenses, Nora! I mean, isn't Nicholas enough? I've been trying to find a stable job because you're too busy pampering him, and now you brought in TWO?!"
"What's so wrong about all of this? I can try to work too...!"
My father laughs-it's bitter, like something dying. "By selling stupid flowers and playing that stupid flute of yours as if it brings customers?! As if that little instrument does wonders to our life, Nora?!"
The words hit harder than I expect. My mother's shoulders droop, but she doesn't look away. "I... you can't just say that to me when I'm trying. I'm trying my best for this family."
But he doesn't care. "Yes, Nora. This family that was almost financially stable... until that Abigail of yours was brought in. Do you understand?"
My father let out a heavy sigh. "Don't pry in my business again if you don't know anything, Nora."
The way he says her name makes me feel sick. He doesn't even try to soften it, doesn't even try to pretend that she's part of this family. He's blaming her for everything, like she's the problem, like she's the reason everything is falling apart.
The way he just calls her Nora. What about 'love', 'my dear', the names they call when you love a person? The way they do when I watch those series with my mother while she cries secretly as if she thinks I can't see in the dark?
And Nora-my mother-doesn't say anything.
Abigail, too. She listens under the weight of words she doesn't deserve.
I want to say something. I want to yell at my father, to tell him it's not Abigail's fault nor my Mother's. But my mother always tells me it's "adult things," that I shouldn't get involved in. It's her way of protecting me, I know that. She doesn't want me to see what she's too tired to fix.
But still... why does it have to be like this?
"Mama... are you okay?"
I asked her softly, the words barely slipping past my lips. After she tucked Abigail in and kissed our forehead like always, she didn't come to bed. She didn't answer right away. Her eyes didn't move. Just fixed on the glass trying to see past it.
Then, finally-
"I'm alright, Nico. Go back to bed. You need your sleep. Don't you want to wake up early to play with Theo tomorrow?"
Too gentle. The kind people use when they're trying to pretend nothing's wrong. The kind that sounds like it's been wrung dry from crying too long and too often.
"But mama..." I wanted to point out how her tears always dried up and left stains in her eyes now. I was that perceptive. After everything, why wouldn't I be? She gave me these subtle signs but refused to acknowledge them. She looks so tired.
I wanted to say,
Mama.. why did you even marry him if it's gonna turn out like this?
Or maybe, it wasn't that predictable.
Maybe... Father wasn't like this before.
...Maybe he loved her before he learned how to destroy things quietly.
But love shouldn't make you look like you're fading.
Would I even call him a father now? Not when he's the reason her laughter feels like a memory now.
"Nico... please, go back to bed."
She says, as if I can go to sleep easily after what happened.
How could I sleep after what I heard tonight? After the way he made her feel small again?
"Okay, mama." I only obliged as to not bother her anymore. Because I don't want to hurt her more than she already is.
That was when I started to hold a grudge against my father. Yes, he never raised his hand. But like they said, sticks and stones shatter bodies; words, however, kill souls.
But what could I do? I was a kid.
When I stepped back into my room, I found Abigail sitting on the edge of my bed, her eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw me, fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she whispered her apology. "I... I can leave if you want me to-"
"No. Abby, no." I crossed the room fast, faster than I meant to. "Why would you need to leave? There's nothing wrong with you. It's him. It's always been him. If anything, I'm glad you were adopted. You make her smile. My mom... she actually smiles when you're around."
Abigail blinked at me, her lips parting just a little. "Really? You're not mad at me?"
"I'm not like my papa, Abby." I sank to my knees in front of her. "I don't want you gone. I want you to stay. I want you to keep making Mama happy. Someone needs to."
My throat burned, but I needed her to hear it.
We're just kids. But kids like us-we don't get to lean on grown-ups. We lean on each other.
I reached up and gently wiped the tears from her cheek with my sleeve. "Do you want me to call Theo? We can talk. Just... we gotta be quiet, okay? If my parents hear-"
"Mhm..." She nodded, sniffling.
The phone started ringing, and the three of us talked all evening without a care in the world.
Only me, Abby, and Theo. That's all we've got. And for now, it's enough.