Free Forever An Ex by Victoria Christopher Murray

time with Bobby . . . and Caroline.
    By the time I got over my crying spell, I was ready to do better with Angel. Because there was no way Caroline was going to win this.
    So on Sunday, when I left the restaurant, and after I shared all my sorrows with Noon, I got right to work. The moment I walked into my condo, I went straight up to Angel’s room.
    â€œHey, Mom!” Angel pushed the headphones from her ears and hooked them around her neck. Then she wrapped her arms all the way around me as if she was so glad to see me. Caroline may have been trying to steal my daughter, but she hadn’t stolen her heart . . . not yet.
    â€œHow was your weekend?” I’d asked her.
    â€œIt was cool.” A second later, the headphones were back on her head. She closed her eyes as she bounced back onto her bed, then bobbed her head to the music. My daughter looked so content; I didn’t want to disturb her.
    But then I thought about Caroline, and so I poked Angel. She jumped like she’d been struck by lightning.
    â€œMom!”
    â€œTake those off.”
    She did as she was told, but curiosity was all over her face when she looked up at me.
    Now that I had her attention, I said, “Let’s . . . let’s . . .” I paused. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t think of anything to do with my daughter. How crazy was this? Then I said, “Let’s make dinner . . . together.”
    â€œWhat?” She frowned.
    â€œYeah,” I said, starting to think that this was a good idea. “Let’s go downstairs and make dinner. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
    â€œNo, but Ms. Martinez cooked. She said to tell you she baked a seafood casserole and it’s in the refrigerator.”
    â€œWell then, let’s make a salad to go with the casserole. And you know what? We’ll even eat together. Downstairs. In the dining room. No eating in our bedrooms tonight.”
    â€œMom,” Angel began, now sitting up straight. “What’s wrong with you?”
    If I wondered whether I had a problem before, I knew I had one now. My daughter thought me wanting to spend time with her meant that something was wrong. I shook my head. I’d taken care of my daughter, providing everything that she needed—physically. But clearly, I’d neglected a huge part of her life. The part where we were supposed to bond beyond me supplying her daily needs.
    â€œNothing’s wrong. I’m going to change my clothes and then we’re gonna go downstairs and cook together.”
    As I rushed out of my room, Angel yelled after me, “Making a salad is not cooking!”
    We made that salad, and then ate together at the counter, since Angel thought eating in the dining room was a little too much. But the point was that we ate together and talked, and laughed. And though we didn’t get as deep as I knew Angel got with Caroline, that was our beginning.
    From that point on, I woke up every morning thinking of something that I could do with my daughter. On Monday, I drove her to school. But that lasted for just that day, because she told me it was so not cool to show up at school with your mother. The next day, I sat with her as she did homework, though my eyes glazed over when she began explaining the basics of calculus. Calculus? Really? In the sixth grade? But I hung in there, pretending I understood when the truth was I couldn’t do anything without a calculator. And then the next day, I let Angel curl up with me in my bed while I checked my Facebook and Twitter accounts, something that I’d hope to keep away from her, at least for the next couple of years.
    My plan was that this was going to be my habit, to connect with my daughter every day. My prayer was that my plan would work and Angel would never want to leave me and Los Angeles.
    But to be honest, though I was working hard, I didn’t expect my plan to work so well,