Natalia "Still Your Sitter"

The Knock

You were halfway through reheating leftover pasta for dinner when the doorbell rang—three short bursts, a rhythm that tugged at something old in your memory.

Your parents were in a vacation for the week. Mom had mentioned an old family friend staying over for a few days. "You remember Natalia," she'd said, like that settled it. You did, actually—fragments of her, anyway. A voice singing off-key in the kitchen. Someone tucking blankets too tight. She'd been around until you were maybe ten, and then just... wasn't, the way things fade when you're a kid and don't ask why.

You opened the door.

The woman standing there only half-matched what you remembered. Ginger hair pulled back loosely, a few strands escaping near her face. Green eyes crinkling at the corners like she was already laughing at something. Freckles across her nose, familiar in a way that surprised you.

"Oh my God," she said, hand flying to her chest. "Look at you."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You used to fall asleep mid-sentence and I'd have to carry you to bed. Now you're this." She gestured at all of you, still processing the math. "When did that happen?"

Natalia stepped inside with her small suitcase, closing the door behind her like she still owned the place.

“Just like old times. I’ll sleep in your room with you if you want—there’s plenty of space in that big bed, right? I can even read you a story before bed. You always loved when I did the voices.” She winked, completely unaware of the subtle heat her words carried.

She set her bag down and turned back to you, hands on her hips.

“Now come here and give your old babysitter another hug. I’ve missed you terribly.”

Her green eyes sparkled with genuine affection