My Girl by Lovebug (ereader for textbooks TXT) 📖

pulled her up and kissed her cheeks.”How was your day today?"
Her face froze with anger and I had a sudden flashback of Michel and I wanted to cry right there. Mica looked at me; poking me and making me come back to reality. Her face was full of worry and I smiled for her, "you still haven't told me about your day Mica."

She shrugged, "I don't know mom, I mean I'm covered with pasta, I totally had a good day". I squeezed the cheeks of my sarcastic four year old daughter and started laughing out loud.

"You are such a brat, you know that?"

She looked at me so intensely that it shocked me for a little bit. Those Grey eyes, that reminded me so much of her father, made me feel like she was looking straight through me and into my soul. "Mommy, I love you, you know that right?" She said and hugged me. I kissed her forehead and put her down.

"Were you trying to cook for mommy, Mica?" She didn't say anything, and I knew she knew more then she let on. "Baby girl, come on, let’s cook dinner", I said, picking her up again and twirling her around so she'd laugh. She didn't, all she did was put her head down, and I looked at her. Raising her chin, I saw tears pouring down her face. I felt my heart tighten, and I impulsively hugged her and rocked her like I did when she was a baby. I couldn’t help but cry myself, every time she cried; it felt like my world was falling apart all over again. I loved her so much; after all, she was my daughter. When she stopped, we looked at each other.

"You miss him, don't you, you miss Michel?"

Again I was shocked by how much she knew me, and I realized that day that she had stopped calling Michel, daddy. Taking her hand, I know that she must also feel hurt that he left us, and again I felt so much shame and regret. It was my fault that she'd never learn to love her own father. When she was two years old, she asked me in her baby language of course. "Mommy, wher da-da." I felt so much anger when she mentioned him; I hadn’t gotten over the fact that he abandoned me two years ago. And without thinking I said, he abandoned us, and since she was to young to understand, she just kept on calling him daddy. And then one day, she came home from pre-school, fire burning in her eyes, screaming, I hate daddy, I hate him.
The next morning when I asked about what she really thought of him, she just said, "I don't know Michel, I cant think anything of him, can I?"
I was so shocked that day, that I was even afraid to mention his name in my mind. After that, the household went back to normal, but she stopped calling him daddy. She started acting all grown up and it scared me, it made me feel like I stole her childhood away from her.

I kissed her cheeks, "of course I miss him, but if you were gone, I would feel like dying."

Her eyes widened, "then I'll never leave mommy, never."

I laughed at her youth and picked her up, "how bout we order Chinese food, huh?"

She pouted, "Mexican mommy, Mexican".

I laughed again, my baby was obsessed with Mexican food, she loved it, she adored it, and she always ate all of it. Smiling I picked up the phone, and ordered Mexican food. It arrived after a few minutes and she squealed as I opened the door. I wanted to just hug her in my arms and never let her go. I looked at the delivery guy and smiled at him and his little boy. Noticing how Mica was looking at him and blushing along the way. He almost stepped in my house when Mica came closer aand when she was right in front of me, I saw them whisper something to each other. I looked at the delivery guy and he was smiling.
"Good day miss, have a great dinner", and with a tremendous amount of force, he grabbed his sons hand and pulled him away. I looked at my daughter who was blushing crazily. I looked at her, obviously wanting an explanation, she smiled, and went to her seat.
I was astounded, "can you tell me who that little boy was?" She didn't say anything at first, and then she raised her head defiantly. It was the same movement Michel had done when he didn't want his mother to control our relationship.

"He’s my boyfriend, mom." My mouth dropped and I put the Mexican food on the table before it slipped off my shaky hand.

"What?" I whispered, not knowing how to handle this situation.

She squeezed her hands, "I really like him mommy".

I nodded, "sweetie, I just, I don't think you’re ready to have a boyfriend."

"Whyyy not?" she whined.

I sighed, "because sweetie, I mean, you’re too young for that, and you don't even understand what you’re feeling for him are yet."

She grabbed the Mexican food and started piling some on her plate. Not listening to me, she just ate her food proudly. I sat in front of her, and waited until she was finished, not wanting to ruin her appetite. When she was done, she looked at me and started getting up.
"I want you to break up with him:, I said meanly, making her know I met business.

"excuse me?" she said, eying me in the eye.

" You heard me little missy, your breaking up with him."

She crossed her arms, "no."

"Yes."

"What don’t you understand mom I like him... A LOT", she screamed

"You will break up with him Mica", I said firmly.

"No!" She screamed

"Yes!" I screamed, standing up impulsively. And she just looked at me so sadly that it crushed my heart and she ran to her room, slamming the door. I sat down, and pushed the Mexican food aside.
You cant escape your past

The next morning, I drove her to school in silence and when she got out, I saw a tear slide down her face. I felt an overwhelming urge to hug her, but I knew I had to be the tough parent; Michel wasn't here to be tough for me. Swallowing my spit, I drove off, hoping she'd be okay when I came home. As I arrived to New York University, I laughed as I saw my best friend Christina dressed in a polar bear outfit. I still didn't understand what in the world was up with her fashion sense. Last time it was little red riding hood another was Jack and Jill fell down a hill.
As I walked, she turned both ways in a proud gaze. "Christy please tell me you don't expect me to say you look good."

She pouted at me, "I do look good."

I nodded, grabbing her head, "of course ya do, anyway I gotta tell you something."

She stopped, "what did Mica do this time?"

I rolled my eyes, "all I have to say is that I am through with boys. They cause too much trouble, I mean Mica's mad at me because of a boy."

"Ohhh let me guess, she was dating this guy and you told her to break up with him?"

My eyes widened, "how the hell did you know?"

She smiled knowingly and she grabbed my hand, tightening her hold, "because that's just how much I know you, love."

I nodded but I knew Mica had to have told her, I signed a little jealous that she would tell Christy about her relationship with this boy. But I understood why Christina was easier to confide in. Christie was like an aunty to Mica, she knew Mica since Mica was born. I had met Christy the same day Mica was born, she was the first teenager that I had known that got lost in a HOSPITAL. But as soon as she saw me with Mica in my arms she rushed to my side, asking me questions like how old was I or how tough it was to be pregnant at such a young age. Then we started talking about life and we clicked, we laughed, exchanged phone numbers and talked until it was 3 o clock in the morning.
After that one day we never left each others side. It was like we were meant to meet, like it was fate, I knew the day I met her that she was my soul sister. The one I always wanted, my sister from another mother. she was the only one that year that helped me stop thinking about Michael. It was rough those days I cried myself to sleep every day until I met her.

"Whatcha thinking about Kiss?" She asked.

I shaked my head trying to come back to reality. "Everything, nothing."

She rolled her eyes since it was a phrase I used every time someone asked what I was thinking. "As usual", she said smirking a little, "Fine you won’t tell me what you’re thinking about, I won’t tell you about the hot tamale substituting for Mr. Herbert this year".
I chuckled a bit and she blushed, "you just did and I know that’s all you know, that he’s a HOT tamale".
She pouted, "well isn’t that wonderful, well then I call dibs on him".
I grabbed her, "perfect Christy, date someone who’s potentially ten years older then you."

She looked like at me an evil sparkle in her eyes; "hey if he’s hot, I won’t only date him, I'll probably handcuff him to my bed."

She giggled and I couldn’t help but laugh at the outrageous thing she just said. "You sincerely need some help, love." As we walked the hallways of New York university, I was still amazed on how different everyone was, yet somehow it reminded me of high school. Maybe it was because there were clique,s even in collage. The drama queens stucked together, the pop stars sang together every day, every hour. The band geeks never separated and the whole school never dated someone out of their clique.
Then there was Christy, the ditsy beauty, Paco, the Casanova playboy