"Daddy says I ain't allowed to have anyone over to play today," were the first words Molly said when I found her sitting on the sidewalk outside of her house.
Tossing the football I'd been playing with into my garden, I crossed the street and sank down beside her. "Is your mama in bed again?"
Sniffling, Molly nodded and wrapped her skinny arms around her knees.
Her long, blonde hair was pulled back in two braids that hung over her shoulders. Her denim overalls were covered in paint, and her eyes were red and puffy.
"I hate it." Another sniffle. "She's always sad and Daddy always makes me go outside when she cries. He says she's tired again, but she's always tired, D."
Yeah, I knew what she meant. Molly's mama used to be real good friends with my mama, but lately she spent all of her time in bed. She used to be so much fun. She played with us, and baked the greatest cookies in the whole world.
Not anymore.
Not since she got tired.
"Don’t cry, Molls," I coaxed, draping my arm over her shoulders. I didn’t like it when Molly cried. She was my best friend in the whole wide world. It made my chest hurt when she did that. "It's gonna be okay. She's just tired 'cause she's growing a baby."
"How do you know it's gonna be okay?"
"Because it has to be." I shrugged. "Rourke's dad told me that John Lennon says everything will be okay in the end, and if it's not okay then it's not the end."
She scrunched her nose up. "John Lemon?"
"Lennon," I corrected. "The guy in The Beatles."
"I don't know who that is," she sniffled, curling into my waist. "And I don’t get what he means."
"Yeah, me neither," I agreed with a sigh. "But it will be okay…"