My mind was swirling with thoughts of the conversation I’d had with Shelby, the fight I’d had with Devon, and the memories I’d shared with Elliot. The drive to Jaxy’s school seemed to fly by, and truthfully, I didn’t even remember it when I arrived. I tried not to drink too much coffee, but it was apparent I needed something to snap my mind out of its funk.

   Jaxy came bounding out of his preschool, his usual enthusiasm shooting him along like a rocket aimed right for the backseat of my car.

   “Hey,” I said with a smile as he settled into his booster seat. “How was school today?”

   “Great! I colored a picture of a tiger. But I wanted a purple one, so I made it purple.”

   “Very creative,” I said with pride, hoping that perhaps some of my creativity had rubbed off on him.

   “My teacher told me tigers weren’t purple and she made me color another one black and orange.”

   “Really?” I didn’t like the idea of preschool teachers stifling his natural instincts to be different. “What did you do?”

   “I colored the new one every color of the rainbow.”

   “That’s my boy!” I turned and held my hand up, smiling as his little palm slapped against mine in an epic high five. I watched as he leaned back into his seat, pulling his seatbelt over his chest, clicking it into place. “I made my teacher mad a lot today.”

   “What do you mean?” I asked, finding his face in the rear view mirror as I pulled out onto the street.

   “Well, earlier, we were supposed to draw a picture of our family. My teacher said my picture was wrong.”

   “Wrong?”

   “Yeah. I drew Daddy and Ruby, and Mommy with a yellow circle over her head. One of those hollow thingies.”

   “You mean a halo?” I asked, my voice thick with emotion at the thought of tiny Jax drawing his angel mommy.

   “Yeah, a halo. Then I drew you standing next to us and when I showed my teacher, she said you weren’t a part of our family. I told her you were, but she just shook her head at me and told me I was wrong.”

   “She what?” Surely there must have been some mistake. “She told you I wasn’t a part of your family?”

   “She said that unless my daddy was married to you that you weren’t family.”

   Before I could rein in my emotions, the car was pulling a U-turn, heading back in the direction of Jaxy’s preschool. I parked in the parking lot and then opened Jaxy’s door, holding his hand as we walked into the building. I headed straight for his classroom, but stopped outside the door, kneeling down to look in Jax’s eyes.

   “I want you to stay out here in the hallway, okay?”

   “Are you gonna punch her?” His eyes were wide and worried.

   “No, I’m not going to punch her,” I said as I rolled my eyes. “No more action movies for you, buddy.” I rubbed my hand up and down his arm, trying to comfort him. “I’m just going to talk to her for a minute. But I need you to stay out here.” He nodded his head, still looking worried, so I ruffled his hair as I walked past him and into his classroom.

   I saw his teacher sitting at her desk, stacking some papers into a neat pile. She heard me walking across the room and her eyes came up to meet mine. She looked perplexed for a moment, but then I saw the recognition come over them. She stood, a tight smile pulled across her face.

   “Hello, Ms. Reynolds,” she said, folding her hands in front of her.

   “Please, call me Evelyn.”

   “What can I do for you?”

   “I was just taking Jaxy home and he told me he was having some trouble in class today. Something about a purple tiger and a picture he drew. He said you told him I wasn’t a part of his family.” I used my fingers to make air quotes around the word, trying to emphasize the ridiculousness of her assertion. She opened her mouth to speak, but I was amped up on adrenaline and not willing to let her stop my rant. “I know you’re aware of the tragedy his family has been through this year, but what you might not know is that I have been in that boy’s life since before he was even conceived. I held his mother’s hand when she took the pregnancy test. I was in the room when he was born. I was the very first person his mother trusted to babysit him when he was just three weeks old. I have loved that child every single day of his life.” I paused, trying to take in a breath, but it shuddered on the way in, and I felt tears threatening.

   “Evelyn, please, let’s sit down.” She motioned toward the tiny chairs built for four-year-olds.

   “No!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but I could feel the emotions flowing through me like lava; slow and smoldering, getting hotter and hotter as more anger piled up on top of itself. “Jax lost his mother. His only mother. She was my best friend and I promised her I would take care of him and his sister.” I took one more step toward her desk, which she was still standing behind, drawing my hand up, my index finger pointing at her. “Who the hell do you think you are telling him I’m not a part of his family? You don’t get to make those decisions. You don’t get to tell him things like that. Luckily, he’s a smart boy and he knew you were full of it, but the fact remains that you had no right. You had no right to tell him that.”

   “I never meant to imply-”

   “No, I’m sure you didn’t, but maybe next time you open your mouth, you’ll think about everything he’s lost. He lost a lifetime of love. He lost his mother. Don’t try to take more love from him. As far as I’m concerned, he could use all the love he can get. I can give him so much love. Don’t ever try to tell him I’m not a part of his family.”

   “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Her tone, contrite and remorseful, caught me off guard. Then she was silent, obviously waiting for more verbal abuse from me. I was suddenly exceedingly tired.

   “Okay then,” I sighed, my fingers coming up to rub my forehead. “I didn’t mean to be such a bitch.” I cringed at my own words. I was in a preschool classroom, swearing at Jax’s teacher.

   “No apologies needed. Really. Jax is lucky to have you.”

   “Okay. One more thing?”

   “Hmm?”’

   “Please don’t tell him tigers can’t be purple. He’s four. Let him believe in purple tigers for a little while. It won’t hurt anyone.”

   She gave me a sad yet friendly smile, and then nodded in agreement.

   “Okay, I’m going to go.”

   “Have a good rest of your day.” Her voice sounded full of pity and concern.

   “You too.”

   I turned and walked out of the classroom to find Jax right where I had left him. He looked sad and bewildered.

   “Hey, buddy,” I said kneeling down to his level again. “I’m sorry if you heard me yelling. I didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have. Yelling doesn’t solve anything.” I felt terrible; obviously, I was the worst role model ever.

   “You really love me that much?” His small voice soaked into the tiny cracks of my heart, like water flooding an engine, and my heart just stopped. My hand came up to caress the side of his round, little face.

   “Sweetie, I love you more than I could ever put into words.”

   “More than my mommy loved me?”

   “No, Jax,” I said with tears welling in my eyes. “No one will ever love you as much as your mommy loves you. But I still love you more than you could ever imagine.”

   “I miss her sometimes.”

   “I know, baby.”

   “But I like that you’re around. You help with stuff that only mommies know.”

   My heart started sputtering back to life, aching like it might explode. I wasn’t a mommy, but somehow, I’d picked up on some secret mommy things. Perhaps I had a maternal bone in my body after all. “I like being around. And I’ll be around until you tell me to go away, okay?”

   “Okay,” he said, sniffling and wiping a tear away that had escaped down his cheek.

   “Your sister won’t be home for a few hours. Should we go get super-secret ice cream cones?” My voice was full of forced excitement, trying to convince this little boy that an ice cream cone was a sufficient replacement for the love of his mother, at least temporarily.