As soon as we walk out of the room, I stall. Looking from left to right, I take in the empty space, not sure where to walk or what to do. Like an apparition, Emerson comes out of nowhere and stands beside me. “Hendrix will be here in a minute. He just had to make a detour on the way.”

“You spoke to him?”

“I did.”

“You speak to him often?” I ask a little too harshly.

“Well now that you’re out, he can just talk to you directly anytime he wants.” I bite my tongue and taper down my jealousy. I have no claim to her, no matter how much I want it.

“So, do we just wait?”

She laughs at my question, and I turn to her perplexed.

“Yes, we do. It’s the least thought out part of this whole process.”

“I know they want people out of their hair, but this is weird.” Looking around at the sparse surroundings, I’m baffled at how many stops we have to take to get to the exit without instructions. It’s like being dropped in the middle of the ocean, with no life jacket and then left to drown.

“Lucky I’m here then, huh?” She elbows me lightly.

“You don’t even know.”

The unoiled door squeaks, and an exhausted-looking Hendrix half steps inside.

“Hey.” He tips his chin at both of us. He leans on the door jamb while his arm holds it open. “Walk faster please,” he says to someone outside.

“I’m coming.” A young girl’s voice travels through the room, and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up. I wasn’t expecting this.

Watching her step through the doorway, I feel the air leave my lungs. She looks exactly like Sasha did at her age, except she has my colouring. With darker eyes, thicker hair, and olive toned skin, she’s even more beautiful than the day she was born.

“Jagger,” Sasha calls out from the kitchen.

“Yeah.” I poke my head out of my bedroom door and see her balancing a sleeping Dakota and grocery bags in both hands. “Here, let me help you.”

“What did he want?”

“Who?” I ask, untangling Dakota from her arms.

“Don’t play dumb. I saw George reversing out of the driveway on my way in.” Sasha hates George, and I don’t blame her. The definition of scum, he’s a guy who’s loyalty lies with money and drugs. If he has to visit, I try to make sure it’s when Sasha and Dakota have left the house, but the more frequently he visits, the more impossible it is to hide.

“He was just asking if I needed a ride to work tonight,” I lie. “I’m going to put her to bed.”

She rolls her eyes at my dismissal but doesn’t say anything further. Sasha knows when I’m lying, but she’s intuitive enough to figure out the less she knows the better.

Walking down the hallway, I head into Sasha’s room, where Dakota sleeps. Starting off in her own bed, Dakota manages to find herself in either of our beds by morning. Kissing the top of her head, I make sure she’s tucked in and comfortable before I head back to Sasha.

“How was dinner?” I sit on the single recliner while she putters around in the kitchen.

“Good, My mum and your mum doted on her all evening, and I tried to cram some schoolwork in.”

“You see Drix?”

“Yeah. He was on his way out. Managed to play with Dakota for a bit, and ignored me. The usual.” I see how much the tension between the three of us weighs on her, and I wish it could at least be better between her and Hendrix. Their relationship is a once in a lifetime type of thing, and they’re throwing it all away.

“Soon enough he’s going to have to talk to us.”

“He forgave you. You’re the one that fucked it up again somehow, and you won’t tell me what happened. But he hasn’t spoken to me since the day I told him I was pregnant.”

“We hurt him, Sash.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she yells. “But what does he want from me? To regret Dakota? Because I won’t. That little girl in there is everything to me.” Her tone softens whenever she mentions our daughter, and It’s true, for both of us.  We might’ve been young and dumb when we had her, but there is nothing in the world that could have me wishing I could turn back time.

It was rough at first. A huge adjustment, but Sasha and I had no issues with wanting to be parents. We struggled more with choices relating to finances and education. We put high expectations on ourselves as teenage parents. Me more so, trying not to repeat the same mistakes my father made.

Thankfully Sasha’s mum was supportive and helpful every step of the way. My mum? She told me I wasn’t a man or a father unless I paid for my family’s roof, food, and bills. So, I did whatever I had to do to get the fuck out of her house and show her I was a good man and a good father. There wasn’t room for an accidental pregnancy in my mum’s world, and empathy wasn’t her strong suit.

Hendrix was hurt. Unintentionally, our actions broke his heart. Whether he talks to me or not, there are other ways I can look out for him. And I can’t let him be associated with George or any of his low-life friends. Drix’s safety is still my priority.

“He’ll come around, I promise.”

“I can’t think about it anymore. It hurts too much,” she sighs. “I’m going to have a hot shower.”

“Okay, I’ve got some shit to do, but I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sasha walks into the bathroom, and I swing my bedroom door open. Reality hits me smack bang in the face when I see my bed covered in illegal drugs and weapons. I’m reminded of the job I started before Sasha got home. Scattered all over the bed are bags of pills, sadie’s of cocaine, and three guns.

What the fuck have you agreed to, Jagger?

George came over to remind me I sold myself to the devil, and unless my family and I wanted to be out on the streets, I would hide it all here until he came back for it. It started off as small quantities, but this amount and the guns are more than I bargained for. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I turn my back on my mess and bury my head in my hands. I think of how much money I’ve saved working at The Club, and I tell myself it’s only another six to eight months more.

Sliding the built-in wardrobe door open, I begin to clear out the highest shelf hoping if I bury them far enough, Sasha won’t stumble across them.

I hear my mobile phone ring, and step out, then into the kitchen to grab it. Surprised to see Hendrix’s name flash on the screen, I quickly press answer and hold it to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey. I just bumped into George down on Queen Street.”

“And?” I try my hardest not to appear skittish or guilty.

“Don’t play fucking dumb, I thought you said he was going to give you a job at The Club, none of this other bullshit I hear him talking about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know I’m working down at The Club almost every fucking night.”

“It’s your life, Jagger, but don’t fucking put Sasha and Dakota in danger.”

“What, now you want to give a fuck?” I taunt. “You won’t even look at her.”

“Fuck you.” Anger is the only way you’ll ever get the truth out of Hendrix. “Oh wait, that’s what she did. Had sex with my brother while I was there waiting for her to notice me like a dumb cunt.”

I imagine him biting his fist, annoyed that he even let this much slip.

“You know how that went down.” I steady my voice and try to calm him down.

“Whatever. This isn’t what I called you for. Just be fucking careful. I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”

No sooner than the forewarning leaves his mouth, a penetrating boom bounces throughout the house. The phone drops from my hand, and my legs move at their own volition. My feet pound against the floorboards, racing to find cause of the sound.

In four large strides, I meet Dakota’s wail of pain along with Sasha’s bloodcurdling scream.

“No. No. No. No.” I mutter. Walking further into the room, I drop to my knees next to Dakota’s bloodied body. I watch her wither in pain and am paralysed with fear. Do I touch her? Will I make it worse?

Fists swing into my back as my mind tries to process what the hell just happened.

“What did you do?” Sasha howls. With unparalleled strength she pushes my body to the side, and picks up our baby girl. “How could you let this happen?” she yells.

Walking her out and into the lounge room, I quickly follow. Unable to think, move or make any decisions on my own.

Sasha is hysterical, but I’m frozen.

This is all my fault

“Snap the fuck out of it Jagger! She’s going to bleed out. Call the fucking ambulance!”

I run back to Sasha’s room and grab her mobile now that mine’s broken. I dial triple 0 and wait for a voice to come through.

“Hello, what’s your emergency?” The lady’s voice is painfully cheerful. “We need an ambulance. My daughter.” The bile rises in my throat as I try to explain what happened.

“Yes, sir. What happened to your daughter?”

“She.” My throat begins to close, my heart palpitates, and I’m sure I’m about to pass out. “She.” A hand reaches for the phone from behind me, and I turn to see Hendrix. With Queen Street only ten minutes away, I know he wouldn’t have hesitated to speed over here once he heard the gunshot. My body slumps to the floor in defeat as I hear him take over the conversation with the operator.

“Hello, yes, that was my brother. We’re calling about his daughter, my niece.” He heads out to Dakota and Sasha, and I aimlessly follow.

“Yes. She’s conscious, and she’s breathing.” He pauses, taking in whatever it is she’s saying on the other end of the line. “She’s three years old… Um, it appears that she’s found a loaded handgun and accidentally shot herself in the arm.” As I listen to him describe the reality of our situation, the bile from earlier returns. Right in the middle of the room, I vomit until there’s nothing left.

And then I pass out.

She stands there staring at me as my eyes start to well with tears. I can’t believe she’s here, her eyes so full of life. Unharmed and so forgiving, she’s everything I prayed she’d be.

Emerson’s hand presses against the middle of my back, and I welcome the little push. Hendrix stands protectively beside my daughter, and I’ve never been more grateful for the man my brother has become than I am right now.

She looks up at him, and he nods encouragingly. She’s wide-eyed and innocent, making sense of everything around her. Inspecting me with knowing eyes, she looks between Hendrix and me, a small smile gracing her face. ”You really do look like Uncle Drix.”

Seven words have us all sighing in relief, the pressure slowly evaporating into thin air.

“It’s really good to see you,” I say, awkwardly offering her my hand.

“Um, is it okay if I hug you instead?”

I hide my shock at her request, and talk past the lump of emotion sitting in my throat. “I’d love a hug.” She starts off with small steps of caution towards me, and I meet every one with a silent prayer of gratitude. The last two steps feel like leaps, and on the last one I catch her with open arms. Her arms wrap around my neck, both of us holding on for dear life.

I never let myself imagine this moment. I was too busy punishing myself with images of her body marred by blood and how loud her cries of pain were. The worry she wouldn’t want anything to do with me was too great, enough for me to never contemplate a moment like this.

But now she’s here, more willing than I could have ever imagined, and the emotions are inescapable. For the first time in twelve years I let myself cry. Tears fall for the time I lost and for the pain I caused. For the memories she doesn’t have and the sacrifices everyone else has made. A heartbreaking reunion, I hold my daughter. My family. And I let every unavoidable tear ask her for forgiveness.

* * *

Okay, we’re going to wait in the car while you finish up here,” Hendrix explains.

“Sounds good.” Slowly feeling myself return to normal. I turn to Emerson and think of all the reasons I’m not ready to say goodbye to her.

“Jagger, it was lovely to meet you,” she says stiffly. Putting out her hand, the gesture is inadequate and impersonal. That’s not how I want this goodbye to go. I grab her hand and pull her to me, my hand gripping her hip. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to look but at each other. Cupping her cheeks with my hands, I tilt my head and softly press my lips to hers. We both still. She doesn’t make any attempt to move, and my resolve crumbles at the simplicity of it all. Our lips part slighty.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

“Saying thank you.” Without faltering, we yield to one another, forgetting about who we are and where we are. Her palms rest on my cheeks, and our mouths merge together. Each stroke of our tongues a welcomed hello and a painful goodbye. I kiss her as if it’s my first kiss. I kiss her knowing it’s our last. Our hands fight the urge to move. Fight the urge to explore, because anything more than this is torture.

She had a life before me, and I have a life after this. The kiss is a commemoration. An ode to the random, unexpected, and beautiful things that come into your life when you need them most.

Reluctantly, the kiss ends, reality fluttering around the edges of our thoughts. “I better go.”

“Of course, you’ve got a lot waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Em.”

“It was my pleasure.”

I skim my thumb across her bottom lip, and kiss her one last time. Our eyes meet and we nod at one another in understanding. I walk away from her, ignoring the need to have one last look.

“Jagger,” she calls out.

“Yeah.”

“If you need anything...”

Tipping my head at her with gratitude, I wink and walk away, wishing we met in a different life. Because the one thing I need from her is never going to happen.