Scout Gets a Mother
“May I call you Mom?” Scout asks. “My last writer made me an orphan, had me die young.”
“Where did you live in that previous story?”
“On the streets of a smelly, noisy city. Foggy. Rainy. Lonely.”
I hold her for a long time, imagining her previous Dickensian existence. How could any writer treat this adorable child so cruelly?
“Yes, you may call me Mom.” My heart breaks in two. One half grieves that she is just a fictional character; the other rejoices. After all, I hold the pen now.
I write Hero into the scene, licking away our tears.