Ashley, normally hard as stone, was weeping. Saying good-bye to Neena was hard for her, maybe harder than she imagined it would be. As for Mills, when he said good-bye, he held Neena’s hand, bent down, and whispered something in her ear, before kissing her cheek. He’s a sweet kid. Zane was chewing on his nails and squeezed her hand and gave a casual good-bye. I could tell he just didn’t know what to say. What can you really say in these situations?
Marcus goes back inside as Paul and I watch their van drive off. The day is warm; summer is on its way. The dogwood in my front yard is starting to bloom. I planted that tree the year Neena was born. It’s on the verge of blossoming again this year, coming to life and sharing its color, while our daughter is wilting before our very eyes. My gaze moves to Paul’s and he gives me a sideways smirk. “I’m sorry I left you the way I did. I’m sorry I left you at all. And even though you’re mad at me right now, I’m not leaving you this time, Clara. I swear it.”
I know being angry with him is unfair. He didn’t mean for that night at the concert to end the way it did. Stepping toward him, I let my head thump against his chest. “I don’t think I can do this, Paul. I don’t know how to let her go.”
His hands rub my back as his chin rests on my head. “I wish we had a choice in that, Clara.”
The front door opens, and Marcus steps outside, sniffling, his little fingers wiping under his eyes.
“You okay?”
He shakes his head no. “When we first found out Paul wasn’t a match, and we knew we had limited time, Neena told me not to say good-bye to her.” He sucks in a ragged breath. “I asked her when she thought it was almost time, to give me a day with her. One last day to hang.” His glazed eyes look up to mine. “She asked me for that day. Tomorrow.”
My throat feels like it’s closing. Paul’s head drops and we all stand silent for a moment.
“I’ll be here bright and early,” Marcus tells us. I bend down and hug him before he leaves.
Paul takes my hand and laces our fingers together as we watch him go. He doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. All we can do now is pull strength from one another and hope it’s enough to get us through.
It has to be.
Clara spent the night on the couch last night, while I took the bed. But I was restless all night. After tossing and turning for hours, around five in the morning, I climb out of bed, deciding sleep is hopeless. I creep down the stairs where Clara is passed out on the sofa, one arm dangling over the side. But Neena’s bed is empty. I hear something scratching that sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. Following it, I find her in the kitchen, seated at the table with a giant butcher’s knife.
“What are you doing?” I hiss in fear, making her jump. She drops the knife on the table. “Are you okay?” I ask, calming myself.
“I’m fine,” she manages, her tone breathless.
When I flip on the light, she winces. “Sorry, princess.” The table has wood dust on it, in the center. I give her a questioning look.
“I wanted to carve my name in the table, too. I guess I should have asked first.”
Instantly, I smile and pick up the knife. “I think that’s a great idea, let’s just get a smaller knife.” I find another knife and hand it to her and she returns to her mission. She’s biting her lip as she works; focused. I make a pot of coffee and by the time it’s finished brewing, she’s done. She swipes her hand across the engraving and smiles.
She put her name underneath mine, but in bigger letters.
“Trying to show me up, huh?” I jest as I lean down and kiss the top of her head.
“Life’s too short to be subtle,” she pipes back.
She got that from the video Ashley made. She’s quoting me.
“That is true, princess.” I frown. Life is too short.
Neena and Marcus spend the day together. I try to keep my distance, allowing them space. Marcus is someone to Neena I could never be. He’s always been around. He’s a father figure and friend, all wrapped into one. He’s seen a million precious moments; possesses a million memories of her life. I want to hate him for that. But I can’t. He stepped up when I wasn’t around. Neena is the amazing kid she is because Marcus played a role in her life. I’m grateful he stayed and helped Clara. In the afternoon, he helps Neena go outside and they sit on the top porch step together, Neena is leaning against him as they chat. Clara and I check on them a few times as they talk softly. After a while, he brings her back inside and tucks her in, kissing her forehead.
“Later, alligator,” he says, his voice husky.
“After a while, crocodile,” Neena murmurs back, her smile faint and sad. It’s not good-bye.
It’s see you later.
It’s until we meet again.