“DADDY?” SHE SAID quietly as she tiptoed on the hardwood floors into his room at the hospice house. Her blue fishing lure charm bracelet jingled softly. The room was painted a warm yellow. A lush tropical evergreen sat on the mahogany dresser. The last bit of sun slanted in through the windows along the far wall. Everything about this place seemed lively, happy, and healthy except for Allen, who lay still in the twin-size bed with his eyes closed.
Her mom lingered by the door as Madison sat down on the bed and held her dad’s fragile hands in hers. He didn’t stir and his pulse was weak beneath his paper-thin skin.
“Daddy,” she cried, her voice breaking. “Daddy,” she tried again, struggling to breathe through her tears.
“I’m gonna leave you,” her mom said, putting her hand on her shoulder. “I’ve said my good-byes, so take your time.”
Madison nodded and watched her mom shut the door behind her. “Daddy,” she said one more time, gripping his hand harder. The words finally loosened themselves from her tongue. “I have so much to say right now, but I don’t even know where to start.” She took a deep breath. “I want you to know that you’re so much greater a person than I’ll ever be, but I’ll always strive to live like you did. With passion. And love. And kindness.” Her eyes blurred as the tears came faster. “Thank you . . .” Her voice cracked with emotion. She took another deep breath to compose herself.
“Thank you for all those fishing trips where you taught me much more than fishing. Like how to be funny and how to swear and how to dream.” She wiped her tears away, the fishing lure charm chiming on her wrist. “I just can’t imagine life without you. . . . I truly don’t know how I’m going to get through it. . . .” She trailed off, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. “But I promise—I vow right here, right now—that I will keep your spirit alive with me for the rest of my life.” She broke down and cried into his chest. “I’ll try to keep laughing, and loving, and seeing the good in people like you do.” She squeezed his hand again. “And I want you to know Mama and me’ll be fine. I’m gonna take good care of her and make sure she’s happy and comfortable and everything else you want her to be. I don’t want you to go, Daddy, but I understand that you have to—I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”
She kissed his forehead and hugged him once more. “I love you, Daddy.”
And though he lay still, his breath ragged and pulse slowing, she could have sworn she saw his lips curve up in one last ghost of a smile.
45
gabrielle
THE BLINKING CURSOR stared back at Gabby, taunting her as she searched for the right words for her college scholarship essay. After the long day working at the day care, her brain felt like mush, but the deadline loomed—forty-eight hours to be exact—so she grabbed a root beer, pulled up a chair at the office desktop, and tried to come up with something . . . anything.
As nice as it was being in the day care when screaming sticky kids weren’t all up in her face, it was eerie being in the church complex after hours, when it was so quiet and empty. This was how so many of those horror flicks she watched on Netflix started, after all. But she knew staying after hours was the only way she’d be able to write her essay in peace. Her mom, while a very pleasant houseguest, couldn’t stop talking or humming, bless her heart. Despite the quiet, Gabby had spent the last two hours staring at that screen, trying to come up with the perfect answer to the seemingly simple question: “Which experience in your own life has influenced you the most?”
A few things had come to mind. She started to write about her experience growing up in Section 8 housing. How she and Claire would play “Fancy House” and pretend they lived in mansions. But she wondered if that really influenced her life, other than teaching her to pretend things weren’t as desperate as they seemed. Then she tried talking about growing up with a single mother, and how she and Elaine had to be there for each other, but she didn’t want the scholarship committee to think she was trying to win with a sob story.
The cursor kept blinking. She kept thinking. Finally, she started to type:
Have you ever wanted something so bad but were told you couldn’t have it? I’ve often felt like I’m the poster child for this. Time and time again in my life, I’ve dreamed and worked toward something only to hit the big wall of “no.” One of the hardest moments of my life was when I was told I couldn’t go to college—not because I couldn’t get in, but because I couldn’t afford it.
I know you asked for one single experience, but I’d like to lump together all of the “no’s” and “you can’t do that’s” into one. They, as a whole, have influenced me more than anything else. Without these individual setbacks throughout the years, I don’t know if I would have finally gotten to the point where I am right now, saying, “Enough is enough! It’s time to make things happen.”
After twenty-one years of being told I can’t have these things I’ve wanted so badly, I’ve finally learned my lesson: I’m not going to take no for an answer anymore.
I am writing this essay in hopes of getting financial help so that I can finally go to college. Of course you can say no (and you might), but for the first time in my life, I’m happy to say that I plan on doing it even if someone tells me no—because in my heart, I believe that dreams should come true and some things are worth fighting for.
Gabby looked at the essay and took a deep breath, starting to edit bits and pieces of it. The day care’s doorbell rang, the shrill sound echoing through the empty room.
Her eyes shot toward the door, her heart beating fast. Who would be trying to get into the day care at 8:00 p.m.?
The doorbell rang again. Gabby grabbed a baseball bat from the sports closet and walked cautiously to the front door. She peered through the glass and her heart leaped into her throat. There, on the other side of the door, was the most unexpected sight of all: Tony.
She wanted to collect her thoughts, but it was too late—he’d already seen her. He raised a hand in greeting. She sighed in nervous anticipation and slowly opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
Tony stood there with a serious expression, his hands in the back pockets of his Levi’s. “Can we talk?”
“How did you find me?” Gabby crossed her arms over her chest, as if holding herself together.
“I have my ways,” he said, attempting a half-smile. “Can I come in?”
She nodded slowly and opened the door wider. They stood in the entrance, a small hallway covered with the kids’ drawings on one wall, and the other covered in chalkboard paint. She leaned her shoulder against the blackboard wall, the now familiar shame and embarrassment resurfacing. “Why are you here?” she tried again. It’d been a week since they ran into each other at the mall. Maybe he wanted to tell her off, or rub it in her face that he’d moved on.
Tony leaned his head against six-year-old Jacob Marston’s monster artwork. He had written the words “I smell” in big letters above it, an arrow pointing to the drawing, and it now appeared as though the arrow was pointing to Tony’s head. She bit back a small smile, then took a deep breath and braced herself for what he was about to say.