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leigh-kelly · 3 years ago

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Every Little Thing is Gonna Be Alright

7 years since Brittany and Santana got married! Seriously it feels like yesterday and a thousand years ago all at once. I know that normally I post some kind of celebration thing, but I've been waiting a long time--literally longer than Brittana have been married--to post this, and today felt like the right occasion. This is is told from Annie Lopez-Pierce's point of view in the Annie-verse when she is a teenager.

It was just like any other day, walking into our house after school that afternoon. Honestly, it probably would have blended completely in with all of the other days just on the cusp of winter and spring in New York City, if it hadn't been for the yelling I heard coming from the office. It wouldn't have been all that rare, had it been you, who was doing the yelling, though you never, ever yelled at us, but you got really stressed out sometimes about the kids you worked with, especially when you couldn't help them the way you wanted to, and then you’d raise your voice on the phone. After though, when you needed to calm down, you’d usually toss your phone away and come looking for me, or my sister, or Mama, to distract you from the thoughts of whatever you'd been talking about. But it wasn't you who was yelling in the office that time, it was Mama. Even though she was the one who was the most strict with us, she did it in a quiet, firm way, her yelling wasn’t something I couldn't even everremember happening, and even though it totally freaked me out, and made me want to hide, I couldn't really stop myself from standing on the side of the kitchen closest to the office, pretending to make myself a snack, but mostly just eavesdropping.

"You know what, Liz? I actually don't give a shit about what rules it would have broken for you to call me first. You didn't have to tell me anything at all, you could have just found out when I was going to be home before Kasey called her." Mama paused, I guess waiting for an answer, and it kind of scared me a lot, because Aunt Liz was the assistant district attorney, Kasey worked with her, and at seventeen, I already knew about the history that you had with her office. "No, she's not okay. Use you brain, Eliza, seriously! She's shattered, she's totally and completely shattered, and she was all by herself when she had to hear it. You were there the first time around, I don't care if you were just a teenager, you remember it, it’s the reason you even do what you do. And you remember that when they first found him, I came home to smoke in my kitchen, and her just sitting in a daze with Annie in her arms, like she couldn't even remember how to get out of the chair. You could have waited until I got home, or you could have come here and told her in person, so she had someonewith her, and she didn't have to call me, sobbing and unable to speak, and then wait for me to make it home to be with her. I had to call the doctor, had to get him to give her Ativan, after she was inconsolable for three hours, and she threw up bile all over herself, and you know that was an issue in and of itself."

"Britt!" I heard you cry out brokenly from upstairs, and I froze, fear like sharp icicles pricking all over my body. You sounded really small and sick, and I kind of just wanted to go and give you a hug, but I was too terrified to reveal my presence in the house, and not even sure how much help going to you would be.

"I've gotta go. She's awake, and she needs me. Just do me a damn favor, Liz, as my sister, don't let her hear things like that alone again...or, with the girls—" Mama's breath hitched. "And please, please, I'm begging you, do whatever it takes, and don't let him get out. She won't be able to take it, we won't be able to take it."

I sort of just stood, paralyzed, in the kitchen, for a really long time. Mama had gone upstairs, she hadn't noticed me standing there, and I didn't look at her face, I couldn't look at it. This is the thing about you guys, you have this crazy connection, this connection I could see even when I was really young, before I really knew about love, or marriage, or any of the stuff that goes along with it. Grammy and 'Buela, they like to make jokes about it a lot, I guess because they've been watching it forever, but it's really true, your joy is shared, your pain is shared, and I’m not sure if that makes things better or worse. Judging by Mama's angry tone, judging by the terror in your voice, and the words don't let him get out, you both were definitely in all kinds of pain, and I realized that my hands, still holding a jar of peanut butter, were sort of shaking out of control.

After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, I crept up the stairs, careful to avoid the loose board on the third step from the top, the one that you had tried once to be handy and fix, but only ended up making worse. I really tried not to look, honest, but when I tip-toed past your bedroom, and the door was wide open, like Mama couldn't even think to close it, and I heard the soft whimpers of one of the people I loved most in the entire world, you, the woman I had idolized for my whole life, my head sort of turned, and I had to look. I couldn't really see you when I did, honestly, it's like you'd shrunk down to half your regular size, and sort of just fit yourself into Mama, like you were hoping that if you'd burrowed far enough into her, she'd be able to make all the sad you were feeling go away.

"Shhh, shhh, honey, it's okay, it's okay." Mama whispered to you, making my stomach feel really funny, and I had to turn away, knowing that neither you wouldn't want me to see you like that, especially not you, Mamí, because I knew that you always tried to be the most brave for me, since a lot of the time, I just wasn't very good at that. "I think you should take another pill, sweetheart, your heart is beating so fast."

"I don't...I can't...our girls."

"I know, I know. We'll keep them safe. If it comes to it, we'll move away somewhere, we'll go to Plymouth, remember when Reese was a baby, and you wanted to move there and make candles? We’ll do that, we’ll do whatever it is that will make you feel like we're all going to be okay. I will go to the ends of the earth so you feel safe, Santana."

I wanted to block it all out, I wished I hadn't heard it, and as quickly as possible, without making noise, I made it to my own bedroom. I didn't close the door, I didn't want to be heard, but the instant I reached into the bottom drawer of my dresser and tugged free my oldest friend, the one I still kept close by, just in case I needed someone I could snuggle with and feel a weird sort of safe, I collapsed onto my bed and started to cry. I was really confused at the whole thing, I had thought that the man—or, not a man, Mama had told me, the day I found out—that tried to kill you was supposed to spend the rest of his life in jail, but it no longer sounded like that, and I kind of felt like I was going to throw up.

By the time I heard the door close, and my head shot back up from Milky Way's mane, really worn down and tattered after so many years of feeling my love, a pretty long amount of time had passed. When I turned my eyes to the door, Mama was collapsed against the back of it, and she was crying, crying in the way where it looked like she was trying to keep it together, but was just really, really failing at that. Again, I was frozen, and for the first time in my life, felt really, really grown up, and I wasn't sure what to do with that.

"Mama." I whispered, and her head jerked up and her eyes widened, apparently thinking she had been alone in the room.

"Oh, Annie." She rubbed furiously at her eyes, like maybe it could make me forget that she'd been crying, and I got up off my bed, trying to look really brave and strong, and trying not to make a big deal out of it. "When did you get home? Oh, God, it's Friday, you get home early. What time is it? Your sister..."

"It's okay. It's only two o'clock."

"Okay, okay, okay." I could tell she was trying to collect herself to be able to talk to me, and since I really didn't know what else I could do, I walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. I wasn't all that big, even Reese is way taller than me, but I wanted to be able to hold her up if she needed me to, and I was really shocked when she started crying again, trying to hide the tears in my hair. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby girl."

"I love you, Mama." I told her, because it always made mefeel better when one of you told me that when I was really upset.

"I love you too, I love you so much, Annalise." She pulled out of the hug and drew in a deep breath, stiffening her back and calming herself.

"I heard you on the phone with Aunt Liz." I confessed in a hushed tone. "Is Mamí okay?"

"I wish you didn't have to find out like that." She sunk down on my bed, sighing deeply, and though I'd already pretty much figured that out, hearing Mama talk just confirmed it for me. "I wish I could tell you Mamí was alright, sweetheart, because she will be, but right now is really tough for her, and she needs me to help hold her up for a little bit. I didn't realize you were in here, I just needed a second to lose it. I'm sorry, Bean, you don't need to hear all this, I'm just—"

"It's okay." I nodded. "Mama, I thought he was going to be in jail for his whole life."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, and maybe he will, we don't know for sure yet. But apparently he's entitled to rights, and a parole hearing." She spit, bitterness oozing from her lips. "He doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve any of it. Not for what he did to her. Not for what she's had to suffer through for two decades."

"It's really not fair." I frowned, feeling tears prick behind my eyes again, even though I felt a little bit better knowing it wasn't a guarantee that he'd go free. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I, my sweet girl, trust me on that one." She shook her head and rubbed her temples. "I need to go get Marisa at school, I just...I'm going to get her early, I need to be back when Mamí gets up."

"I can go get her." I offered, even though I'd never done it before, and I was pretty sure she was going to say no, because both of you are always so protective of us. Mama thought about it for a few seconds, conflicted, and then slowly nodded.

"Yeah, I think that would be really helpful. Do you have a lot of homework, or...?"

"Nope, I did it all in study hall this afternoon. Thoreau had viola lessons, so I was on my own."

"You're such a good girl, Annalise, I'm proud of you." She told me, kissing my forehead, and I could tell she was going to cry again. "There's money in my wallet on the counter, if you want, take the baby to the diner, have dinner, whatever you want."

"Okay." I stiffened my back, trying to appear bigger and more responsible. "Should I bring anything back for you and Mamí?"

"Maybe some soup, or something, if they have something she likes. I don't know. Sweetheart, thank you. Thank you for giving me a little more time before Reese is here. You shouldn't have had to see this either, but she—she's still just a baby, and for her to see your mom like this..." She trailed off, and tried to scrub the tears from her face "I love you so much."

"I love you too." I breathed, and she stood to kiss my forehead. "Will you tell Mamí that I love her too?"

"Of course. I'll see you in just a little while."

Walking back out of the house, I felt like I was in this weird sort of daze, like I was in one of those old Twilight Zone episodes that we sometimes watched on New Year's Day. I had stuck a few twenties and my school ID in my pocket, listening to the detailed instructions about pickup that Mama had given me. When I walked into the school, I tried really hard not to clam up completely, my painful shyness making my cheeks heat up before I even had to talk to anyone, and my height making me feel like I was even younger than the kids my baby sister's age (Reese was taller than me, but she was also really tall for her age, like Mama had always been). At sixteen, I should have been better at this, really, but I wasn’t, and like you’d been telling me forever, I was just born this way, and that was nothing to feel bad about. It was really hard for me, navigating my way to Reese's classroom on the third floor, without stopping to ask someone for help, but I was so serious in my task, knowing how I needed to be successful at it, because you both needed me to be.

"Nee!" Marisa called out to me, jumping up from her desk and running toward me, wrapping me in a tight hug, a hug that I reciprocated, so glad to see my sister, probably even more glad than I'd been in her whole life, and that was saying a lot, because you know she’s my very best friend. "Where's Mama?"

"She's at home, she thinks I'm finally old enough to get you by myself, and she gave me some money so we can get dinner." I told her softly, not really wanting everyone to hear me talking.

"What did Mamí say about that?" She raised an eyebrow, looking a lot like you when she did. "'Cuz we're lucky she lets us go to the deli on the corner."

"They're both fine with it." I sort of lied, but not really, since I think you, had you been awake, would have consented to it so that Mama could hold you longer and make you feel okay.

When Marisa's teacher came over, I put on my most adult voice (it was still really hard for me to talk to people, even adults, even though it waseasier than people my age) and got permission to take her out, smiling a little at Baby Reese and her crazy heavy backpack. Getting to the diner, the waitresses, the same women who'd known us for most of our lives, asked us where you and Mama were, surprised to see us without you, and Marisa excitedly told them that we were all by ourselves, since now I was allowed to pick her up from school. I was mostly quiet, not really able to smile much, because I kept thinking about the way I had heard you sounding so crushed, and how Mama had been so scared, plus thinking about how they might let an almost murderer, who probably still believed that you (and Mama too, I guessed) didn't deserve to be alive because of who you are and who you love. I thumbed through the menu, trying to decide what I wanted to eat (I thought maybe nothing, because my stomach hurt, but I knew Reese would question it, and I couldn't explain it to her), and when I looked up, my sister had her head in a book.

"Reese, you know you're not supposed to read books at the table." I repeated the sentence that she was told every night by either you or Mama.

"Well you're not talking to me." She rolled her eyes, and closed the book, before turning really serious. "Nee Nee, did someone die?"

"What?" I gasped a little. "No, no one died."

"Are you sure? Because Poppy had to have surgery last week, and...they're all kind of old, you know? Please don't lie to me, if one of them died, you gotta tell me. Peter Franzino's uncle died like two weeks ago, and his brother picked him up at school, and that like, never happens, and now we're here and not eating dinner as a family."

"No, I pinky swear, no one died." I reached across the table and squeezed her pinky with mine, before pushing aside the dark curls that fell in her face so she could see that I was telling the truth. "Mama and Mamí just need some time alone."

"Eww, that's gross. I don't want to hear about them being alone, being all kissy and stuff. They're already kissy enough when they're not alone." She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, making me, and I looked at her for just a few seconds, feeling like she could always make me happier, even when I was so scared and upset, and she scrunched up her forehead, trying read me. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing, I just love you a lot Reese."

"You're so weird, you make that same face that Mamí does before she says that to me." She paused for a moment before breaking into a grin. "But I love you a lot too, Nee. So does this mean can we get ice cream waffles for dinner then?"

"I don't—" I thought about telling her no, telling her that we had to eat real food, because you would probably want us to, but honestly, I kind of wanted ice cream waffles too. "Yeah, why not?"

After we finished eating our waffles and ice cream, and I ordered some cream of turkey soup and a BLT to bring home, figuring Mama might be hungry too, even though she hadn't asked me to bring anything for her, we took the long way home, cutting through the park and stopping for a few minutes to watch the saxophone guy play some Charlie Parker. I was kind of dragging my feet, because my stomach was all twisted in knots, thinking of seeing you the way you sounded before I left. I wanted to hug you so bad, the way you always did for me when I felt like things were out of control, but I also knew this wasn't anything like me getting a bad grade on a test, or having a really big crush on a boy who I was too afraid to even really look at, it was like the biggest, worst thing in the world for you, so I didn't know how to act.

Figuring the food was going to get really cold, we only stayed in the park for two songs, and even though Marisa was twelve, and never held anyone's hands anymore, when we got to Sullivan Street, she grabbed mine, kind of like she knew that I needed it. Before we even got close to the house, I could see two figures sitting on our steps, and I had to swallow hard to keep from crying again. I knew that it had to have been Mama's idea, since she was all about us getting fresh air and a "new perspective" when we were upset, and I felt a little better, seeing that you were up out of bed. When we got closer, I could tell that you had sort of sunk into Mama, your head resting on her shoulder, and Mama's arms wrapped right around you, and her chin on the side of her face, keeping you safe from everything that scared you. I understood the way you worked a lot, after all, I had known you my whole life, and I was sure that it was helping you a lot, having your wife, who you loved more than I'd ever seen another person love their wife (except for Mama, she loved her wife, her you, just as much), hold you tight like that.

"Hi girls." Mama looked up tiredly, jarring you from the trance you were in, and making you attempt to smile a little for our benefit.

"Hi mijas." Your voice was still gravelly and small, and I couldn't even wait another second to put my arms around you, giving Mama a temporary reprieve to answer the rapid fire questions that Marisa was already shooting at her. I almost didn't hear it when you started whispering to me, but I leaned in closer, soaking in your words. "Gracias, corazoncita. Te amo mucho mucho, para siempre."

"Lo se, Mamí. Lo siento para..." I didn't finish, because I could feel you squeezing your eyes shut, like you were holding back tears you didn't want to cry in front of us, and I just hugged you even harder and kissed your cheek.

It was a really long night in our house, and even though Marisa was sitting on the couch reading her books, and even though I'd promised her that no one died, her scrunched up brow worried Mama. Just before her bedtime, after you had gone to lie down again, and I was combing out the tangles from my sister's hair, Mama came into Reese's room and asked the two of us to come sit with you both in your room. I knew what was coming, and even though I already knewthe story of what happened to you, years before I was born, I still felt like I was going to throw up when I followed Marisa down the hallway.

When we got in the room, you shifted your body so your head was in Mama's lap, and while Marisa scrambled up on the bed, I kept my eyes on both of you. I didn't know all that much about drugs—I know that I was sixteen, and I probably should have known more, but I just really had no interest in even talking about them but I knew you never took anything, never even drank alcohol, after having a problem after what happened to you—and I guessed that taking what I'd heard Mama talk to Aunt Liz about had really affected you. You looked sort of glassy eyed, and not in the same way you get just from crying, and you had your hand curled around Mama's calf as she let soothing fingers work their way through you hair, and occasionally, down to the angry scars that mark your throat. Tentatively, I made my way to sit down on the bed, and since I wasn't sure what else to do, I took one of your hands and held it so tightly in both of mine.

You didn't really say much, as Mama explained what was going on to Marisa, because you're were always really honest with us about stuff, even the hard stuff, but you just kind of laid there, occasionally turning you face so it was hidden, and I knew you were crying then, even though it was pretty obvious that you were really desperately trying so hard not to. Reese sat stoic, kind of like I had, at fourteen, the first time you'd told me the truth about the scars that I had first asked you about when I was only four years old (sometimes the hurt will leave a mark, but it just shows that you're super tough, you'd told me, and I'll never forget that), and you shifted, a little, and kind of leaned into me. By the time she was done talking, Mama kept bringing her hand up to her own face to keep herself from letting tears fall, Marisa laid down beside you, pressing your noses together, like she used to do to all of us when she was really small. You didn't say anything, even then, you just kissed her, because sometimes, like me, you don't know what words you're supposed to say.

"It's okay, Ladybug." Mama promised Marisa, rubbing her back and sort of easing her up from where she lay, clinging to you and crying. "It's all going to be okay."

After you went to take a bath, signaling, I figured, that you needed to be by yourself for a little while, Mama went to sit with Marisa before bed. She offered for me to come with them, but I just shook my head, wanting to be by myself too. Grabbing my headphones from the nightstand, I lay flat on my back in bed, hugging Milky Way again, because I guess I kind of felt like a little kid, even though I was being treated really grown up, and I turned up the volume on the music, trying to let it drown out all of the bad thoughts in my head, something you taught me how to do, how to make my mind feel quieter by letting the music take over me. Mama came in a while later, to kiss me goodnight, and I hugged her for a long time, hating that far off, sad look in her eyes, and just never wanting to let her go.

"She's strong, don't worry about her, baby girl. She's made it through a lot worse."

"I know, Mama, I know." I told her, because even though I sort of didn't, even though I'd never seen you like that, and I was mostly convinced that even you, Mamí, one of the two toughest people I knew, might fall apart, I figured the last thing Mama needed was to worry about me.

I never really fell asleep that night, I was sort of in and out of consciousness, waking up every few minutes with a fluttery panic in my chest. It was after midnight when I heard feet in the hallway, and when I lifted my chin just a little, I saw you there, just kind of standing in the doorway, looking a little like you'd gotten lost, ghostly, almost, in your purple silk robe, the one Mama bought you a really long time ago, when you were pregnant with Reese, but that you'd kept all these years because it's your favorite. You didn't say anything though, I don't think you'd realized that I was awake, so I didn't say anything back to you, didn't want to take away from whatever you were doing, I just let you look at me, for a long time.

"San, honey." I heard Mama whisper, in the voice she only uses for you, the voice sometimes I hope someone will talk to me in someday, and in the shadows, I saw her wrap an arm around your waist, holding you again, like she was afraid you'd float away. "They're alright."

"I know...I'm just checking." Your voice wavered, and you leaned on Mama, like maybe she was right to anchor you, maybe you were halfway out of our house and up in the sky,

"Come back to bed with me."

"I love you." You said suddenly, out of nowhere, needing her to know, I think, because I do it sometimes too, when I'm scared, like I have to remind myself and everyone, and then you started crying again. "God, I can't do this. I can't, Brittany."

"I'm here, I'm here with you. I love you, I love you so much, sweetheart, and we’ll get through it, we did the first time."

"I need...I need to go to Brooklyn tomorrow. I haven't felt like this... I need to call Rosa."

"Call her. She won't care that it's the middle of the night if you need her for this. Call her, and I'll come with you to Brooklyn tomorrow. It’s you and me, we’re in this together. Every step of the way.”

"Okay. Okay."

I wasn't really sure what Brooklyn or Aunt Rosa had to do with anything, but Mama managed to get you out of the hallway and back into your bedroom. I'd just about fallen asleep again, when I heard more footsteps, and figuring it was you, I didn't even bother to open my eyes until they got closer and closer to my bed, and I felt someone hovering over me.

"Nee Nee, can I sleep with you tonight?" Marisa asked, and I opened my eyes to see her rubbing her dark ones sleepily. "I don't really wanna sleep by myself, but when I went to Mama and Mamí's room, I could hear Mamí crying again, and..."

"Hey, c'mere." I lifted part of the blanket that covered me, moving over to make room for my sister to crawl up beside me. When she was in, she curled up on her side and rested her head on my shoulder, before pulling the blanket up over her head, sort of cocooning herself under the covers like she always did.

"Can you come underneath with me?" She asked, on the verge of tears, and I quickly ducked my own head under, seeing her eyes wide open, like if she kept the lashes far enough apart, she might not cry.

"It's okay to cry if you need to, Baby Reese." I brought one arm to curl around her body, and she tucked her face into the crook of my arm, letting a few sobs out.

"I just don't understand." She cried into me, and I just kept squeezing her tighter. "I just don't understand why someone would try to kill Mamí, just because she's Mamí, and she loves girls. I don't understand why he didn't learn that everybody's allowed to love whoever they want, and I don't understand why they might let him come out when he hurt her so bad and she's so scared of him, and she almost died 'cuz of him."

"I don't either." I sighed, feeling way too grown up, wishing I was little again, and snuggled up in your lap. "It's not fair, not fair at all, but we just have to keep hoping, and 'Buela has to pray to her saints that they're gonna keep him in jail."

"What if he tries to kill her again though, Nee? Or what if he tries to kill Mama? What if we don’t have any moms anymore?” Her eyes were wide with fear, and my whole body shook with that thought, even though I really did know, from books, and TV shows, and stuff that even if they didfor some really bad reason, let him go free, he wouldn't be allowed anywhere near our family.

"He won't, he won't, Reese, don't worry about that. We're gonna be safe, and they're gonna be safe, it's just really scary right now."

"Can I tell you a secret?" She asked, and I hummed my okay to her. "Once I heard a word at school, and when I came home and asked Mama what it meant, it made her cry, and she told me we can never, eversay it, because it means something really hateful and bad, and it hurt her a lot to hear her own baby say it, but it would especially hurt Mamí."

"You didn't know what the word meant though, you shouldn't feel bad about asking questions, because remember, we're always supposed to ask Mama and Mamí about things we don't know."

"I know. I know we are. It's just that I don't understand why there are words that only mean really mean things, and I don't understand whyanyone even cares who people love."

"It doesn't make any sense." I whispered to her, and she curled herself tighter. I didn't tell her that things were a lot better than they were before we were born, that people like you did a lot of work to make sure people weren't so ignorant. I didn't tell her that when I was born, you and Mama weren't even allowed to get married in Ohio, even if you'd wanted to. I didn't tell her any of that, because she was already really upset, and honestly, it didn't even make any sense to me.

"Mama's telling the truth, right? About everything being okay?"

"They never lie to us, right?" I asked, and she shook her head. "We just need to show Mamí how much we love her, more than we already do, I think."

"Yeah, I think you're right. She always feels better when we're around her. It just makes me feel really sad when she cries."

"Me too, and Mama hates it probably the most." We were quiet for a while, and I thought maybe Marisa had fallen asleep, until her voice piped up again.

"Hey Nee Nee? I love you."

"I know Reese, I love you too."

The next two weeks were mostly weird. After that first night, you kind of made some big effort to pull yourself together, even though I didn't really think you had to, I kind of thought you had all the right in the world to freak out, but I guess you wanted to just act normal, even if you didn't feel that way. Nobody in our house talked about it, and even though Marisa and I went to school every day, we both knew that you weren't going into your office, and that Mama worked a lot more from home than she had since we were really little, wanting to be close to you, wanting to make sure you were okay. Sometimes we still heard you crying at night, and Mama's sweet soothing words for you, and on those nights, Marisa would crawl into my bed with me, and we'd sleep snuggled up together, because we both knew that at least if we couldn't comfort you, we could comfort each other. When Aunt Liz came over to talk to you that one Saturday night, I set up a game of Candyland for Caroline and Bradley much closer to the closed office door than it needed to be, that time, intentionally eavesdropping. I didn't hear much, but I knew that Kate, Aunt Lizzie's boss, and the woman who got him locked up the first time, was dealing with the case exclusively, and Mama's sister wasn't even allowed in the courtroom, because of a conflict of interest, or something.

The next weekend, we went to Ohio, and Mama drove, which was weird, and we'd packed the trunk with eight different baked goods that you had made, which was also weird, that you kept baking things, but I guess you just needed something to keep you from going crazy. It was nice to be back with my grandparents though, we hadn't seen them in over a month, and I know that even though Marisa knew what was going on, shewas glad to see them, just to confirm my promise to her that none of them were dead. I know it was really important you to be with Abuela and Abuelo too, because you needed some fawning over, and they were really good at that, especially 'Buela. By the time we made it back to New York on Monday afternoon, there was only a week left until the day that was going to change our whole lives.

The thing was though, all the while that we'd been waiting, I had sort of been doing secret research about the original case, research that made me really, really upset, but that I felt like I needed to see myself. I hadn't realized what a big deal his original sentencing was, but apparently New York's hate crime laws were pretty strict (I decided that I didn't like that phrase, hate crime, because there was no way you could hate someone you didn't even know, and also, you, Mamí, are awesome, like the awesomest, and if he had known you, he couldn't have hated you anyway, it's not even possible). I think the research I did though was the weirdest part of everything. I mean, I'd known that you and Mama hadn't been together when it happened, obviously, because I knew where I came from, but I definitely didn't know that Mama had been there that night, or that you had been a stripper. Not that I cared about either, though, just so you know. I love you, so much, and maybe you were scared to tell me that, because you thought I would think differently of you, but I don't. You're my mom, and I love you, probably more even than other people loved their parents, because of the whole having trouble talking to people thing, needing you and Mama a little more than other people, and there's nothing that can change that.

Anyway, after doing all that research, and coming across a black and white newspaper picture of you leaving the courtroom when the verdict was read, both of your heads down, Mama's arm wrapped around your waist the way she always did it, and a baby, covered in a blanket, in Mama's arms, I'd realized that I'd been there that first time around. It was a funny thing for me, because I was kind of hit with the meaning of something you said to me a lot in those weeks, when you kept sneaking into my room, thinking I was sleeping; you were my strength, you were my reason. Putting the pieces together, I knew that I wanted to be there again for you, I wanted to help Mama be your strength, because you were going to need all that you could get. I figured that approaching you about it probablywasn't the best bet, especially since nobody was talking about it, at least in front of Marisa and me, so I waited. I waited until there were only four days left, and you had gone to yoga with Aunt Rachel, and Marisa was out at a playdate, to approach Mama.

"Do you have a minute?" I asked her softly, after I had crept into the office and saw that she was deep in her work at the computer.

"For you, baby girl? Always." She shut the screen and moved over to the couch there, patting the seat next to her for me to sit down. "What's going on, Bean?"

"I—I want to go with you on Tuesday." I tried to sound really confident when I asked, but ended up looking down at my feet and biting my thumbnail.

"Annalise." She sighed, tossing her head back, so it rested on the back of the couch. "I don't think so."

"Mama. I'm sixteen, I know I'm always going to be your baby girl, but I want to...no, I need to be there. I need to be part of Mamí's reason and strength, and I need them to see part of the life she almost didn't get, because of him."

"You've heard her at night."

"She's not really that quiet." I shrugged. "I don't mind, I like hearing her talk."

"When you were just a baby, the first time we went through this, I used to find her in your bedroom in the middle of the night. She'd pick you up and rock you for hours, she'd tell you all her secrets. You wereher reason, sweetheart, once you were born, all she wanted was to be better for us, and she knew the only way to do that was to face what scared her the most."

"I saw...I found a picture, of that last day, with you guys walking out of the courtroom, and me, under the blanket."

"Internet research, you are your Mami's daughter." She pressed a kiss to my temple, and I felt that swelling pride I got sometimes whenever anyone said I was like you. "She wanted you there that day, and Liz sat in the hallway with you, waiting. She figured that no matter what happened, you could remind her that the world was still beautiful. I see where you're going here, Bean."

"I don't want to make you upset, or her upset by asking to come. But I know Reese is young, and she'd never in million years let the baby come, but I thought maybe I could help make it okay, you know."

"I'll talk to her, Annie, but I'm not going to push it, so I can't promise anything."

"Thank you, Mama."

"You're a good girl, baby. You're growing up so fast, and I'm really, really proud of you."

I left Mama to her work again, after giving her one last long hug, and I went up to my room to work on my American History project. Later, after I'd practiced piano, with Marisa silly dancing along to what I played, I saw you watching me, and you gave me a little side nod, indicating that you wanted to talk to me out on the steps. I swallowed hard and stiffened my shoulders, trying to feel much bigger than my four-foot-eleven-inches, and I tucked the sheet music back into its folder before slipping out the door.

"Hi, mi amor." You said softly, clasping one of my hands in yours. "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright, Mamí. How are you?"

"Been better." You sighed, and I snuggled into you, not really sure what else I could do for you when you were being honest about not really being okay. "Mama told me that you went to talk to her."

"Mmhm."

"Annie, my incredible little miracle. I can't even believe that the day is here where you're asking to be my strength. You've always, alwaysbeen what made me strong. You and your sister both, but I didn't know I'd ever have her when I had to face this all those years again. You know, I never really thought that the day would come where I had to see him again, see the man who told me that my life wasn't worth living. Every day of my life, I try to help kids like me understand how worthwhile their lives are, how they can't let what anyone else take that away from them."

"Your life is so worthwhile, Mamí." I whispered to you, and you started to cry a little.

"I know, I know that now, corazoncita, I do. I hate to admit that you're almost a woman, Annalise, because to me, you're always going to be that tiny girl who I watched open her eyes for the first time, but you really are becoming the woman Mama and I have always hoped you'd become, even with the struggles you’ve overcome.”

"Thank you." I felt my own eyes get kind of damp, and I just held your hand tighter.

"When you were little and didn't understand what I was saying, I told you everything in my head, and then for a while, I couldn't do that anymore. But Mama told me that you did some research online, and I would rather you hear parts of this story from me, okay? And if when we're done talking, if you decide you want to come with us to do this on Tuesday, then you may. Stop me if you get uncomfortable, okay? I'm not telling you this to upset you."

"Okay." I gave a small nod of my head, swallowing really hard.

"We were talking about my life being worthwhile, and I told you that I know that now. Of course I do, my life is being married to the woman I love, my life is having two daughters who make me smile every single day, my life is helping kids who have a hard time accepting themselves. There is no reason my life wouldn't be worthwhile. But it wasn't always like that. When I was your age, things were really hard for me. I was so in love with your mother, something I couldn't admit even to myself, and I did everything I could to fight it. I—I was so ashamed of myself, and I thought maybe—" You paused, collecting herself, and I saw you sort of look over your shoulder, like you weren't sure if you could do it without Mama. "When I was sixteen, I had plastic surgery to try and make myself more desirable to...boys." Your eyes flicked down to your chest, and I understood immediately what you were saying, understood, finally, that serious tone in your voice that you get whenever you tell Marisa and I that we're beautiful and special. "I thought maybe if I could find the right one, then I'd be normal, or what they told me normal was. Obviously, that didn't work. After I accepted that I loved your Mama, after she loved me back, things were a little easier, until...until I was in a commercial about my cheerleading coach not promoting family values, and my abuelita disowned me. I guess, Annie, that I kind of believed I was never going to be worthy of good things."

"Oh, Mamí."

"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no, it's okay. I want to know, if it doesn't make you too sad."

"It's hard, but it has a happy ending, right?" You asked, and I nodded. "When Mama had to stay in school another year, I felt like I had failed her, not realizing she wasn't going to graduate, not staying with her in Lima, and I loved her so much that I didn't think I deserved her if I couldn't make her happy. So I broke up with her, like you know, and she sent me to New York. When I got here, I really thought I was going to make it big, I watched Rachel get cast in her first show, I watched Kurt get his ideas published on vogue-dot-com, but I was bouncing between meaningless jobs, blowing through all the money that your abuela gave me for my graduation. I was here less than a year before it was all gone, and my crappy jobs weren't paying the bills anymore."

"Why didn't you ask 'Buelo and 'Buela for more money?"

"I had made such a big deal about becoming a star, and about being just fine on my own. I didn't want to disappoint them. Mija, after I took the job at the...at the strip club, I kind of cut myself off from everyone, even your Mama, because I was so ashamed. It was a tough couple of years for me, that's part of the reason I'm always trying to make sure you and your sister know that the most important thing is that you love and respect yourselves and your bodies...Anyway, he saw me at the club, he stalked me, and because I was...because I am gay, he decided that I didn't deserve to live. Bebé, he tried to make me feel worthless, and for a long time, he succeeded, until your Mama came back to me and told me every day that I wasn't, until you came, and you would smile at me like I lit up your entire world."

"I still feel like that, Mamí. I love you so much, and I hate seeing you sad, because you always make me so happy."

"Your happiness has always been so important to me, bebé, especially because you don't always have it easy." You pressed a kiss to my forehead, that same Mamí kiss that you've been giving me my whole life. "I'm just trying to get through this without feeling like I'm worthless again. I'm afraid of him getting out of jail, because I lived so in fear of him in between the time he attacked me, and the time he finally went to jail. I need to get up there and give a statement, tell them how what he did impacted the rest of my life, and how fifteen years in prison is hardly a price to pay for almost taking away far more years than that from me."

"I understand that, I know I couldn't talk like that."

"Yeah, it sucks a lot. But I'm going to do it, because it's the only small power I have to help keep him far away from our world. From your Mama, from your sister, from you, mi amor."

"I still want to come with you, Mamí. You always support me when things are hard for me, and I know I can be brave and be there with you, that way you don't forget that you're the farthest thing from worthless."

"Oh, my girl. My brave, sweet baby. Thank you."

On Tuesday morning, I got dressed in the clothes that Mama had ironed and left for me, the same grey skirt and navy button up shirt that I'd worn to Grandpa John's wake six months earlier. It seemed pretty appropriate that I had to wear clothes that I'd worn when someone had died, on a day that I was still terrified would destroy the rest of your life, and my fingers shook as I did the buttons, until Mama had to come in and help me, hugging me and reminding me that I could still change my mind. Mama brought Marisa to school, after you hugged and kissed her about a thousand times, and while they were gone, you invited me to sit with you in your bedroom while you finished getting ready. It felt like when I was a little kid, sitting on the bed and watching you in the mirror, watching as you tried to make your eyes less puffy (I'd heard Mama soothing you again, early that morning) and watching as a fingertip traced the deep scars that marred the smooth skin of your neck and chest. I'm always in awe of you, when I watch you though, Mamí, even when your hands were trembling, even when I could see the reflection of your hard swallows and the way your scarred skin pulled taut, you're always beautiful. I heard your shuddering breath as you lifted your brush to your hair, but you didn't cry, you just swept your hair back in a low bun as you prepared yourself for mostly closed wounds to be reopened, metaphorically, my English teacher would remind me.

Mama came in not long after you had decided to put just the bare minimum of makeup on, asking me if I would help you with the mascara, because your hands were shaking too hard, and when she came in, I slipped out, making sure you had just a minute together while we waited for Abuelo and Abuela to pick us up for the drive upstate, where the hearing was. I knew that Mama would just hold you for a while, let your heart calm down by making you press your ear into her chest and follow the beats you heard. That was one of the things I thought about sometimes, how maybe someday I'd find a boy (I knew by then that I liked boys, for sure, even if I didn't talk to any but Brice and Thoreau) who made me feel the way you make each other feel. I know some people think it's gross to see their parents in love, but for me, it's really beautiful, knowing that it's possible to find a person who just gets you, and takes care of you, in the way you and Mama are with each other. I love seeing how you love, it's strong, steady, forever, and it makes me feel safer and happier, probably, than anything else in the world.

Nobody said anything in the car, after Abuela and Abuelogot out to hug all three of us, I just sat in the middle in the back seat, tucking my knees up over the bump there and picking at my cuticles, sort of scared that I'd decided to go to the hearing. I didn't really look at anyone else when we got inside, but Grammy and Poppy kissed me and squeezed me tightly, and Uncle Finn and Aunt Rachel, sat behind us silently, knowing that you don't like a lot of words most of the time. You were in between Mama and I, and while Mama held almost your whole body, you held my hand so tight, and I squeezed it back as hard as I could, showing you that I was really strong. It seemed like a lot of waiting there, Aunt Liz's boss explaining stuff to us that I really still didn't understand, and everyone full of whispers. Through it all though, you kept your head bowed, like you were trying to pray, but didn't know how. When we finally had to stand up for the judge to come in, I knew Mama was holding most of your body up, because I saw the way your knees shook, the way you almost collapsed when you tried to push yourself to your feet, but it was okay, like you've always told me, it's okay to let someone help when you need it.

“I’ve got you, honey. It’s okay.” Mama murmured into your ear, and I watched out of the corner of my eye, the way you melted into her, the way she shifted her body, so naturally, to hold your weight, and brought your hand to her lips, kissing the inside of your palm and then closing your fingers around it, like she was reminding you what to hold on to.

It was really weird the way the entire room changed when he walked in, the way Abuela found my free hand and held it, the way you nearly fell to your knees, even Mama’s strong hold barely enough to keep you on your feet at his arrival. I didn't even realize that I had started crying at the sight of him, not until 'Buela put her arm completely around me, and whispered rapid Spanish in my ear, promising me that he couldn't hurt me, couldn't hurt any one of us. He looked so small, Mamí, I know you didn't see him walk in the room, I know that you had your eyes squeezed shut, he looked so, so small, but he still terrified me more than anyone I'd ever seen in my whole life. That orange jumpsuit, the way his hands were pinned together behind his back, the way he walked right past us, and tilted his head just enough to see us there, just enough to see the white hot anger that burned from Mama's eyes, making her look like one of those movie vampires. I've only seen Mama like that a few times in my life, and it didn't scare me, it just made me feel really, really safe, knowing that she could protect us if she needed to, knowing that if the worst thing happened, she'd make you be okay again, and she would kill anyone that got close to any of us.

"No miras a ella, hijo de puta." Abuelo growled under his breath, his eyes burning and scary. "No miras a ella nunca."

"Estás bien, Annalisita." Abuela murmured to me, and I just kept holding on to her, and to you, realizing that never, never in my life had I felt hatred before, and it all bubbled up at once, seeing all the people I loved so destroyed by that creature. My heart ached in the worst kind of way, like some kind of shadow of emptiness at the thought of what would have been if he had been successful, the thought of the world without you, my fierce, loving, protective mother, I thought of my world without you, the woman who chose to be my mother, you, who held me in your arms, who loved me so fully and completely, who would give the entire world to me, to Mama, to Reese, and I thought maybe I might be sick.

There was a lot of talking and procedural stuff that happened, but really, I couldn't pay much attention to it. I didn't want to look at him, because I was afraid that my insides might all explode, so I looked down at my shoes instead, and closed my eyes a little, trying not to cry at the sound of your weeping, at that feeling of Mama's strong, comforting presence, of Uncle Finn and Abuelo and Poppy's anger, of Grammy and Aunt Rachel's ache. I wasn't even sure who was talking, because the voices blended together, but they talked about the original crime, at the unthinkable things he had done, at they way he'd left you on the cold ground to die, without a second thought. Someone else talked about the service he'd done in prison, about his good behavior, about being a role model for the other inmates, and I swallowed hard, really, really trying hard not to throw up or scream as you continued to weep and Mama continued to alternate between calming you and seething for you, her truest love, her other half. It went on for a while, my jaw aching from clenching it so tightly, and the back of my hand riddled with crescent moon imprints that you hadn't meant to give me. It was after all that they called you up, you, the victim, the only one who was allowed to speak. Though Mama would gave helped you, had you needed her, to get you to the front of the room, you shook your head and managed to stand straight

You could hear a pin drop in that small room as you walked up to the chair in the front, and Mama didn’t settle, not even a little, from where she remained poised to grab you if you needed, not up you sat down, and looked straight at her, nodding with tear streaked cheeks that you were alright. She settled back a little on the hard wood bench then, though her shoulders were still raised, and she slid closer to me, wrapping me in a sideways hug, like she was sure we were going to have to hang on to each other for this, and she didn’t want me to feel like I was stranded there, watching you in this terrible, terrible pain. I was surprised, like, really, really surprised when you looked him straight in the eye, because I think it was probably the bravest thing I’d ever seen in my whole life, which was saying a lot, because my whole life, I’ve thought you were so brave, and just, larger than life. But you were so scared of him, and you had every single reason to be, and still, you looked at him like that, your head held high, and without words, you were telling him that he wouldn’t win, he couldn’t win, not against you, no matter what happened in that room that day.

“Hi.” Your voice was small, so small, so soft, but you were sure of yourself too, and Mama kept nodding her head, encouraging you. “My name is Santana Lopez-Pierce, and I am the victim of the crime Ryan Davis was convicted of. On September 19th, 2015, while walking to the subway, I had my throat slit and I was left for dead in a dark alley. I was lucky enough to live, against all odds, but that night changed my life forever.”

“You okay, baby girl?” Mama leaned over to check on me, but never took her eyes off of you.

“Mmhm.” I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, as my heart beat so hard in my chest that I was pretty sure you could hear it from where you sat up there.

“It has been more than twenty years since the worst night of my life, a night that’s still not completely clear in my head, and I still have not fully recovered. Most of the time, I can go about my day to day life, I can raise my daughters, I can love my wife, I can run an organization for youth, and I can be okay, but then there are times where I’m still gripped by terror, because I see someone on the street that looks like him, or I’m out late by myself, or a just have a horrible nightmare that makes me relive everything that happened to me.” You paused to wipe the tears from your face, and the sob that came from you then made my whole body feel cold, and made Mama hug me closer. "There are still days that I struggle to get up out of bed, because I feel like my anxiety holds me there. There are still days where I wish I could have a drink to take the edge off things, but I can't, because I spend the entirety of the first three years after my attempted murder, three years that Ryan Davis got to roam free, drinking as much as I could to blind myself to the fear inside of me that he would come back and finish the job. And sometimes then, I wished he would have, because death would have been better than what I felt like on those days. I don't get an early release from mylife sentence for good behavior, this will be in me until I die, and after, the effects will still be with my family, with my two girls, who have been my saving grace."

You took a really big breath, and you looked at me then, Mamí. You looked at me, and though I was really upset, hearing your voice crack, and your throat fill up with tears, I nodded, and I gave you the tiniest smile, trying to tell you how proud I was of you for doing this. You were a superhero, a real one, you were my superhero, and you always will be, because the things you do, they're things you shouldn't have to, and they're things that feel really impossible.

"My oldest daughter was born by emergency c-section almost eighteen years ago, and in that moment, during the birth of my first child, I had to think about what happened to me. I was almost unable to be there for my wife, because the sight of blood caused violent flashbacks, and an dissociative episode. I've had to tell my children that someone thought my life was not worth living, because of who I am and who I love, the very same thing I've spent their entire lives telling them is okay. I've had a four year old trace her fingers over the scars that will never fade from my skin, I've just recently had to promise my twelve year old that no one is going to hurt us, and twice, I've seen the most sickening fear in the eyes of my children when I had to tell them what happened to me. Eleven days before my twenty-first birthday, I had every last vestige of innocence ripped away from my. My friends, my parents, my now wife had to wait to hear if I would live or die, and wonder which, after what happened, was the better option. I survived, but it took a long time, a lot of therapy, and a lot of self-loathing before I could really live again, all because someone thought it was their choice if my life was worth it or not. And even now, there is not a single day that passes where I don't remember, and I don't have some kind of fear because of it. I stand on front of the mirror each morning getting ready for the day, and I see the scars on my skin, and I remember. I will always remember, and I will never, ever be the same."

Mama's tears flowed freely while you spoke, her open weeping maybe even more heartbreaking than your words, because it was so rare she cried, and I had never, not even once, seen her cry outside of our house. When she knew you were finished speaking, she loosened her grip on me, pressing me into Abuela's open arms, letting her keep squeezing me tight, and she stood up, waiting for you as you stepped forward, and back to your spot. It's weird to me, Mamí, it really is, how people have these opinions about who should love who, especially when I see you and Mama, and I know that it's the realest kind of love in the entire world, like, your souls are twisted together, and you just feel each other's hurt inside your own bodies. When you reached her, you stepped into her arms, and you trembled, letting her hold you tight while you both cried into each other's skin. You were tucked under her chin, that safe place, the one most people in the world didn't know you curled into, and you just let yourself be so small and scared in her arms, the way you needed to be, after being so big and brave up in front of everyone. I've got you, I've got you, sweetheart, you're alright, Mama had whispered to you, in between her tears, and I watched your grip tighten, your arms around her neck, like you were trying to fuse yourself to her, before you answered, I know, you always do. I don't know if it's weird or not, but I think maybe for as long as I live, that will be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, the way you ached, the way you both ached, but how your love just, healed it, right as it was forming, how no one, not me, not Abuela, or Grammy, or anyone, ever doubted that you would be okay after that, not when you had each other.

You were almost in Mama's lap when you sat back down, after you'd wiped each other's tears, and put on your bravest public faces to turn back to the front of the room and wait for what happened next. I felt you take my hand, rubbing your thumb along my knuckles, and I leaned back in my seat, trying to wipe my tears and get my brave face too. There was more procedural stuff, more words, but I didn't pay attention to it, I just watched you, and I watched Mama. I watched the way she stroked your hair, I watched the way her fingers tapped up and down your ribcage, I watched you lean into her, and whisper things into her ear that were so quiet, even I couldn't hear. I watched the way you were together, I watched the way you loved, silently, fiercely, ten feet from the man who'd tried to tell you that the love you had was wrong, and I felt my heart get really full. It was exactly what you'd been teaching me and Reese our whole lives, do not ever let anyone define you, do not ever let anyone tell you that you are unworthy, because who you are is beautiful, and you can never forget that. I was so focused on all of that that I almost didn't hear the words, quiet and matter of fact, devoid of ceremony, the words that granted our wishes and fulfilled prayers, the words that would keep him away from us, and keep us safe, the words that denied the parole of the man who'd tried to kill my mother, denied parole of the man who'd made your life a living hell.

"Denied?" You repeated to Mama, incredulously, cautiously, like maybe you heard it wrong, and you were really scared to face that possibility.

"Denied. Denied." Mama confirmed back to you, then looked to me, to Abuela and Abuelo. "Denied."

"So he...he has to stay in, right?" I could barely even whisper the words, because I was kind of crying a lot, feeling really overwhelmed and not even knowing how to handle in. Abuela released her hold on me so you could capture me up, squeezing me between you and Mama, the three of us, just holding each other, and feeling way too much.

"He has to stay in, mija. He has to stay in. We're okay, we're okay. Oh, God. Es un milagro. Tenia miedo tanto..."

"Lo sė, Mamí. Comprendo, comprendo completamente." I managed, though I wasn't sure the words were even making sense.

There was a lot going on around us, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut and sit down, because all of the emotion around me was hard for me to deal with. I breathed in my own air for a little bit, until it was time to leave, and I wanted to take my place at your right side, while Mama took your left. It wasn't like what I'd seem about the day of his conviction, there weren't reporters or throngs of people who'd seen your story in the news and empathized, either personally or politically. It was just us, walking into the light of a spring day in Westchester county. This was your silent victory, this ensured you, ensured us another period of emotional peace, and none of us would even think about how many more times he might come up for another chance, not on that day. That was a day for breathing easy, of gratitude, of rest for you, after you'd been wound so much more tightly for so many weeks.

No one spoke on the car ride back to the city. I'd offered you my middle seat, and you'd kissed my forehead in gratitude, letting Mama hold you in her arms while you finally succumbed to the heaviness of your eyelids, and fell asleep still squeezing my hand. Mama watched you the whole time, and I watched her for awhile, before I felt like it was right to look away, to let her eyes crinkle with that never ending fondness she has for you, to let her ghost her fingers over you, and mark the way she loved you into your body. I looked out the window instead, I watched the trees, and them I watched the city come into view as we approached the George Washington bridge. Abuela held Abuelo's hand on the center console in the front, and I felt so much love around me, that it reminded me how much he hadn't won.

"She's still here, Bean." Mama whispered to me, careful not to disturb you, almost as if she were reading my thoughts. "She still gets to live and love, and he's still far, far away."

"I was so scared..."

"I know, sweetheart, I know, so was I. But it's over now. It's all over, and we're going to go home and order Chinese, just the four of us, and we're going to hold each other really, really tight." She promised me, and I couldn't help but laugh a little, because it was just so normal, after all the things that felt so not. "That's all she needs, that all we all need."

On the West Side Highway, you started to stir, and you gripped Mama tight, letting her remind you of the past few hours, letting her kiss your head and your lips, before you turned to me, and you smiled a small, soft smile. You were telling me so much without words, you were telling me you were proud of me for coming, you were thanking me for being there, neither of which I needed, but that you needed me to know. I smiled at you in return, letting you know that I still thought you were the bravest, and that I was so proud of you for not letting him destroy you, and for fighting back then, for fighting for yourself, for Mama, for me, for Marisa, who didn't even exist yet, for the other people who might have differed because of him. You nodded to me, telling me you understood, and you squeezed my hand tighter. We were going home, we'd hug and kiss Marisa, and we'd just be, because your fight allowed us to, it allowed for triumph against the greatest evil, and though I'd spend all of my life believing in magic, I'd forever think that was the most magical thing of all.

#brittana #brittanas7thyear #annieverse #7 years

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