“Where do you think Mommy would want the flowers today?” Maddox asks.
“I’m sure she would be happy with wherever you want to put them, partner.”
He nods and proceeds to clear a spot on the headstone for today’s bouquet of purple orchids. Almost every other bouquet at the gravesite is still fresh—all nine of them. The caretakers are obviously doing a good job here. I look around at the other headstones, and while none are adorned with the magnitude of flowers such as hers is, they are all beautifully kept. I glance at a few people strolling along a path who smile sadly when they see Maddox arranging the flowers. I gaze up at the crystal-clear morning sky that is dotted with airplane trails making it appear, in one place, as if there is a distant meteor shower.
I keep my eyes averted so that I don’t come apart as Maddox places the flowers down and then sits cross-legged on the fresh mound of sod like he’s done every day for the past ten days. He follows the same routine every single time. He tells her what he’s been doing each day in explicit detail. He talks about everything from what he had for breakfast, to what he watched on television, to what book was read to him at bedtime.
I’m trying to be strong for him, but it wrecks me to see him so sad. However, I can tell that being here and talking to her is therapeutic, so we’ll keep coming as long as he needs to. Each day he cries a little less. Each day, he opens up to me a little more. Each day, we bond over the tragedy that now directs our lives.
When Maddox runs out of things to say to her, I try to comfort him. “She loved you so much, Maddox. And she still does, only now she’s your guardian angel in heaven. She’ll always watch over you. Every minute of every day. You can’t see her, but she’s here.” I offer my hand to him and he takes it, pulling himself up and saying goodbye to her before we walk away.
Leaving the cemetery, we run into Baylor’s parents and Skylar. They, too, have visited every day. We share hugs with them as we pass. “See you later at the hospital?” Skylar asks.
I give her a weak smile. “There’s nowhere else I’d be.”
“We visited Callie’s grave again,” I tell Baylor, as I hold her limp hand in mine. “Maddox still insists on taking purple orchids every day. He said it’s like having you there with us. He’s with my mom now, getting lunch down in the cafeteria. She’s sad about the circumstances, but she’s so happy that she’s finally getting to know her only grandchild. That kid sure does have a lot of people who care about him.” I run my fingers along the edge of her face, being careful not to touch the healing wound on her chin. “He’s really torn up over losing Callie. I am too, but I also feel incredibly fucking guilty because I’m so relieved it wasn’t you.”
I pull out the keychain and rub my finger over the inscription. “This stupid little keychain changed my life. You changed my life. And now that I have you back, I’m not about to let you go. You are the missing piece of me, my other half. And we’re not finished. You’re not finished, do you hear me?”
“You know, if my sister could talk to you right now, she’d tell you what a pussy you are,” Skylar says behind me, having quietly come into the room.
My lips curve up ever so slightly at Baylor’s optimistic sister. Skylar hasn’t for one second accepted the fact that Baylor might not wake up. She comes in every day and reads to her from a tabloid or trashy magazine. She puts un-needed makeup on Baylor’s face. She plays games with Maddox. She kicks my ass when she sees me getting disheartened about Baylor’s progress. Or lack-there-of. She’s even helped me make decisions and plans about a future that I’m not even sure exists anymore.
“She’s gonna wake up, you know,” she says, walking around to the other side of the bed. “Probably even today. You know that the doctors said it was a good possibility, now that they’ve weaned her off the drugs they used to keep her asleep.”
“I know what they said, Skylar,” I bite at her. “Every goddamn word they say plays over and over in my head.”
She holds up her hands in surrender. “Geez, big brother. It sounds like someone needs a good night’s sleep.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Sorry,” I say, watching her fawn over her unresponsive sister.
It occurs to me that I love the way she calls me ‘big brother.’ Skylar and her family have taken me under their wings. They flew out here the day of the accident and have been here the entire two weeks since. All except Bay’s sister, Piper, who was only contacted yesterday, having been unreachable in the vast wilderness of the Australian Outback.
The accident. I shudder remembering the pictures the police showed me of the mangled-up SUV. I’m amazed Baylor survived at all. We buried Callie three days after. The doctors said she had too much internal bleeding and despite their every effort, they couldn’t stop it. She died shortly after being brought to the hospital. However, they said she was awake at the scene and it brings me solace to think that she and Baylor might have been there for each other in the terrifying moments after it happened.
It was horrible, that day. I waited and waited for her to come to my office after that cryptic text she sent. I knew something was wrong. Flashbacks to college riddled my thoughts and I was sure Karen was behind Baylor’s tardiness. But when the school called me to say no one had picked up Maddox, I knew it was far worse than I feared.
“Hey, Maxi-pad!” Skylar says when Maddox and my mom walk in the room.
“Hi, Aunt Skylar,” he says, getting pulled into a bear hug.
“Hey, baby, how are you doing?” my mom asks, coming over to put a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
It’s a lie. My life—my whole fucking life—is lying here in this hospital bed. I’ll never be fine if Baylor leaves us. I’ll go through all the motions. I’ll wake up every day and go to work and give Maddox the best childhood I can. But I’ll never be fine.
“Why don’t you take a break and let me stay with her for a while,” Mom says.
I look over at Maddox to make sure it’s alright with him. “It’s okay,” he says. “Grandma and I can play poker and Aunt Skylar can read to Mommy.”
“Poker?” I ask my mother with an accusing stare.
“I may have taught him yesterday,” she says with a shrug. “It’s boring here.” She turns to touch Baylor’s hand, adding, “No offense, dear.” Then she tells me, “If you’re gonna be from Texas, you right well need to know how to—”
“—ride a horse, play poker and treat a lady right,” I finish. It’s practically her mantra. She always tried to get me to live by it, some parts proving more difficult than others where Karen has been concerned.
Maddox frowns. “But I’m not from Texas.”
Mom laughs and ruffles his hair. “Sure you are,” she says. “Generations of McBrides have grown up in Texas, so you have Texas blood flowin’ through your veins.”
He smiles at her, then asks me, “Do you think you and Mommy could take me there someday?”
“Sure, partner. As soon as Mommy feels up to it,” I say, sending out a silent prayer that it will happen.
Maddox walks over next to Baylor’s bed. “Did you hear that? We get to go to Texas when you get better! Maybe I can ride a real Texas horse and everything.”
“Okay, I have to take care of some business, but I’ll do it from the lounge. I’m not leaving the hospital. Call me if anything happens,” I say. “Anything.” I stare down my mother, who waves me off with a flick of her wrist.
I spend the next few hours on a teleconference call with Scott and Angie to go over some legalities and iron out some details on our latest venture. By the time I grab a bite to eat and return to Baylor’s room, Maddox is fast asleep on the couch and Bay’s parents have come and gone.
Skylar wakes him up enough so he can walk. She says, “Come on little cowboy, let’s get you home.”
She and my mom have been living at the condo, taking care of Maddox while I sleep here.
I never really cared about having money before. I always thought it was something I could do without if I ever had to. But now—being able to stay in this private hospital suite and get Baylor seen by the best doctors at the best hospital—I’m grateful to have so much of it at my disposal.
Her suite has a small kitchenette, a luxurious en suite bath, a seating area that will accommodate plenty of people, and a couch that pulls out into a bed. I wouldn’t dream of leaving her here alone. I wouldn’t leave the hospital at all if it weren’t for our daily trips to the cemetery.
She’s my life. As long as she’s here, I’m here.