Once Jackson’s stroller is secure and out of the way, Crystal and Savi help me to the living room, which—from what Savi tells me—is enormous, with two couches, a baby grand piano, and an entire wall full of books.

Crystal lowers me to the couch. “Savi, go get her some water, please. And go tell Pam we’re here.” Savi runs off. “Now, this”—she whips a blanket into the air before it cascades gently over my body—“is my favorite blanket of all time. My mom sewed it for me when I was a little girl.”

As the blanket hovers and lands, I’m instantly reminded of Saturday mornings when my parents used to change the sheets and I would sit cross-legged on the mattress as they lifted fresh, warm sheets over my head. The memory shocks me with longing.

Savi returns with the water.

“From what this little one says, your house is beautiful.” I take a greedy sip and hand it to Crystal.

“It needs some work, but it’s a pretty special house. Now, let me see that cut.”

I reluctantly show her my cheek.

“Hey, Sav? Will you go upstairs and grab the first-aid kit? It’s under the guest bathroom sink. Pam can help.”

“On it!”

When she’s out of earshot, I whisper: “How’s it going with Pam?”

She grunts. “Conversation for another day.”

Jess walks into the room. “How ya doing, kid?”

“Never better.”

Jess’s cell shrieks through the room, her personalized ring tone of Ginuwine’s “Pony” lightening the mood. “Shit, Bec. I need to take this. Charity stuff.”

“I’m fine. Go.”

“Jackson is sound asleep. This will be quick.” She slips out the front door.

“I’m just going to go grab a couple of washcloths and see where Savi is with that kit.” Crystal pats my knee. “Sit tight.”

I sink back against the cushions, close my eyes, and make promises to the universe. I promise to get more sleep, to eat a more balanced diet, to go see Dr. Gibbons a few times a week if I need to, to figure out a way to afford help. To forget about Jake. To do whatever I need to in order to focus solely on my son. On cue, Jackson fusses from his stroller.

I sit up, but he instantly quiets.

“Okay, back.” Crystal sits next to me. “Turn.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I say.

“Don’t be silly.” She dabs my face with something cold. “I thought about studying to be a nurse.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Oh, you know…” She dabs my cheek. “Life.” In just a few minutes, my wound is clean and bandaged. “Voilà.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” She balls up the materials and snaps the lid shut.

“I think I’m good.”

“You’re welcome to stay.”

“That’s okay. I appreciate it though.”

“Let me drive you at least,” she insists.