Her grin drops from her lips.
“Where is she? Your mother...”
“She passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My father too.”
“Oh... I’m truly sorry,” she says, pushing her plate to the side. “Was it an accident?”
“Yeah... You can call it that.”
“How old is Sara?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Oh...”
“She got pregnant at seventeen. Emma’s almost three years old.”
She glances down for a moment.
“I thought so.”
“You like kids?” I ask.
She swings her eyes back to me.
A smile casts a glow over her face.
“I’d be lying if I said I do, but I like Emma. She’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.”
“She is, isn’t she?”
I smile at the memory of her. Senna’s eyes linger on me for a moment longer.
“You really love her,” she says.
“Yeah, I do. They have no one else... I don’t, either. I couldn’t bear it if anything bad happened to them.”
“What about Emma’s father?”
I sigh.
“Jacob died in a motorcycle accident. The bike I routinely ride was his. I rebuilt it and kept it, only because it was so dear to him. He was my best friend. Same age. We grew up together... Sara, Jacob, and I.”
I pause and glance down.
“How come you ended up...?”
She stops. I raise my eyes.
“On the streets?” I ask.
Silently, she nods.
“Life...” I mutter bitterly, slanting my gaze down for a moment. “Sometimes it’s not what you think it is. People pass judgments all the time,” I say, staring vacantly at a candle. “They think that those who end up on the streets, or at the bottom of anything, for that matter, are either lazy, stupid or make poor choices. It’s simpler than that, actually. Life can turn to shit any fucking moment. I never asked for this. But I knew it was either Sara or me, and I couldn’t let her do what I’m doing.”