FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING and I’m wide awake.
What the fuck?
During my touring days, I was usually going to bed at this time and now, I’m waking up to do manual labor? It’s crazy how much my life has changed in these last few months. And the changes just keep on coming.
After getting dressed and brushing my teeth, I head downstairs where my dad and Kay are up and cooking eggs and bacon. As much fun as life on the road can be, nothing beats a home-cooked country breakfast.
“Mornin’”, I mumble, heading straight for the coffee pot. They both greet me with smiles on their faces and are way too chipper for this early in the day.
“Tucker, you feelin’ alright?” Kay asks. “You look like you didn’t sleep well. Or at all.” She places her hand on my cheek and gives my face an inspection. It makes me smile. Kay has always respected the memory of my mom, and I appreciate that, but also I appreciate her care and concern more than I can say.
“I haven’t been sleepin’ well lately.” I shrug and take a sip of my coffee. “I guess I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Thinkin’ about goin’ back out on the road?” my dad asks.
“No, not that.” I sit down at the table and think about spilling it right here and now, but a lump rises up in my throat preventing me from saying a word.
“Well, good.” He takes his cup of coffee and sits across from me. “You’ve been a great farm hand. I’d hate to lose you. We’ve got some plantin’ comin’ up soon and I’m gonna need you.”
“I’ll be here,” I tell him. I’ll definitely be here, as in French Settlement, and here, as in helping on the farm. But the idea of moving into Cami and Deacon’s house has been weighing heavy on my mind. I know I need to start making some changes and getting my own affairs in order, but lately, I feel like my feet are made of lead. It’s like if I tell everyone about Sammy and make a place for her, I’m leaving the door wide open for Sophie to die. I know that’s not the case, but the mind plays dirty tricks.
“Cami’s bringin’ Carter out this mornin’,” Kay says, leaning over to top off mine and my dad’s coffee cups. “So, that pretty much sums up my day. She’s got some appointments this afternoon and that new art class this evenin’.”
“Well, I’ve gotta get the last twenty acres tilled up today,” my dad says, standing up to kiss her. “But with Tucker’s help, I should finish up pretty early and I’ll take y’all out to dinner.”
“Sweet talker.” Kay smiles at him and gives him another kiss. It’s not too sloppy, just sweet. And totally foreign. With my mom dying when I was little, I remember some affection, but I was young and I probably didn’t notice it as much . . . and it’s been a long time. For the better part of two decades, my dad was alone. He used to be sad, even during happy times, I could see the longing for my mom, but he’s finally happy again.
I stand and kiss Kay too, except mine is on the cheek, and she follows it up with her usual pat to my face.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I tell her.
“You’re welcome.”
On my way out the door, my phone chimes in my back pocket and I almost ignore it, thinking it’s probably another text from Piper. With my lack of sleep, I’m liable to give right in and text her back.
But I can’t ignore it completely, so I take it out to read the notification, lately I’ve been taking solace in the fact that she’s still trying. When I notice it’s actually a text from Sophie, I nearly drop the phone.
Sophie: call me.
I watch my dad until he’s inside the barn, far enough away to not notice my sudden panic. “I left somethin’ in the house,” I call after him. “I’ll be right there.”
With a dozen different thoughts swarming through my head, I open my phone and press Sophie’s name. The possibilities of why she needs me to call begin racing through my head.
There could be something wrong with the paperwork.
She could’ve changed her mind.
Maybe it’s even something good, like a different diagnosis. That’s possible, right?
“Hello?” a weak voice answers, and my heart drops further into my stomach.
“Sophie?” I ask, knowing it’s her, but unsure of what to say.
“Hey.” She pauses for a second and I can hear her labored breathing. I grip my phone tightly and consider running to my truck—running to Houma—but she coughs and continues. “I was just wondering if you would maybe mind taking Sammy for a couple of days.”
“Sure.” It’s a knee-jerk reaction, no thinking involved. Of course, I’ll take Sammy.
What the hell am I saying?
“I can maybe meet you halfway,” she suggests hesitantly.
“I can do that, or I can come to you. You don’t sound too good. Are you okay?” I know that’s the stupidest question that’s ever left my mouth the second it’s out there, but I’m a bit lost for eloquent words right now.
She laughs a humorless laugh. “I’ve been better.”
“Is there somethin’ I can do? Anything I can get for you?”
Anything. I would do anything to make this better for her.
“No, I’ll be okay. I just need a day or two to rest, that’s all. And I feel bad that Sammy’s cooped up in this house with me . . . and I thought it’d be a good test run for the two of you.” She says those last words like they’re painful, but also like she’s ashamed of herself, but I wouldn’t know why. It’s smart. Sammy just met me. It’s crazy to think that she’d go from not knowing me from Adam to living with me. Maybe an overnight stay is exactly what we need.
“I could probably be there around two. Would that be okay?” I ask, willing to drive there now, if she needs me sooner.
“That’s great.” She breaths a shallow sigh of relief. It’s quiet, but I hear it. “I’ll have her ready and I’ll text you the address.”
“Okay.”
“See you then.”
When Sophie disconnects, I stand there staring at my phone until my dad calls my name.
I’m going to need to have that talk with him and Kay sooner than I thought.
I spend the rest of the morning helping my dad out in the fields. When the sun is high in the sky and we’ve finished tilling the portion of field he wanted to get through, we both head to the house for lunch.
Carter is sitting on the living room floor in front of the television with all his toy cars and Army men spread out around him, but he gives me an excited wave when he notices me.
“Hey, Carter-man,” I call out.
“Hey, Uncle Tucker-man,” he replies with his eyes still fixated on the screen in front of him. I know that’s as good as I’m going to get from him for now. Once he’s in the “TV zone”, that’s all he can focus on. It’s actually better that he’s distracted because I’m about to come clean with Dad and Kay.
My dad and I fix our plates and sit at the kitchen table, ready to dig in. Hard work makes for a hearty appetite. That’s one of his famous sayings, and he’s right. I’m fucking starving.
“You’ve been quiet today,” my dad remarks. He glances at me before taking a bite of his sandwich. He’s always been a quiet man, himself, which also makes him very observant.
“I have? I hadn’t noticed.” Lie.
“Well, normally, I have to tell you to shut up and get to work at least a few times before lunch and I didn’t have to at all today.”
I can’t help but laugh because it’s true. I’ve just been too wrapped up in my head to notice.
“So, what’s goin’ on with you? You know you’re gonna have to tell me at some point.” He sighs, resting his elbows on the table, like he’s been expecting this conversation. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
When I look at my father’s face, I see nothing but concern, causing his tan, weathered skin to wrinkle more than normal. I’m sure I’m the cause of some of those lines. I wasn’t the easiest kid to raise. And I know it was hard for him to let me go out on the road with my band, especially at such a young age, but he’s always supported me.
I’m hoping that doesn’t stop today.
I take a drink of water and think for a bit, trying to get everything straight in my head before speaking. For someone who’s so prolific with words, in times like this, I find it hard to piece together what I need to say. Write a song? No problem. Tell my dad that surprise, I have a kid?
Shit.
“I’m not in trouble, but I do have somethin’ goin’ on,” I hesitate for a second, willing the words out of my mouth.
My dad pushes his plate away and focuses on me. “What is it, son?”
“I, uh . . .” I pause, clearing my throat. “I found out recently that I’m a father.” I blurt the words out because they still feel funny on my tongue. Wrong, out of place, even though they’re true. “But there’s more to it than that. The girl’s—Sammy’s . . . my daughter’s,” I correct, “her mom . . . Sophie is dyin’. This is the third time she’s had cancer in the last ten years and the doctors have only given her a few weeks to a few months to live. She doesn’t have any family and she wants me to have custody of Sammy, sooner rather than later.”
I dump it all out there, barely taking a breath. My dad takes in the information, barely blinking.
Eventually, he sits folds his napkin, laying it beside his plate, before leaning back in his chair.
I mimic his actions and wait. My appetite is gone now, replaced by a bundle of nerves settling deep in my gut. All I can do is stare out the window and wait for his response.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long.
“A girl, you say? Sammy?” my dad asks.
I feel the smile break across my face before I even think to do it. “Yeah, it’s short for Samanie. It’s Creole.”
He looks off, still deep in thought, before saying, “It’ll be nice to have a little girl around here.”
His response catches me off guard. It’s short and to the point, exactly like something he’d say, but I expected this to be different. I thought he might yell at me or look disappointed, but there’s none of that.
“Tell me more,” he commands. “Have you met her?”
“I have. A couple of times, actually. She, um, she’s four years old and she looks like me. It’s crazy, but I can even see parts of Cami in her too, especially her personality. There’s no mistakin’ she’s mine. I knew it before I ever took the paternity test.”
My dad looks surprised at this information. “Paternity test? You’ve already got that far?”
I shrug, filling up my cheeks with air and blowing it out. “Yeah, I didn’t want to tell anyone before I knew she was mine. I didn’t want to put y’all through that, just in case . . .”
“You could’ve told us. The things you go through, the things that are important to you, are not burdens to us. We’re your family, Tucker.” Now, he looks a bit disappointed.
Feeling somewhat ashamed for not telling him sooner, trusting him with the important things in my life, I look down at my plate and pick at my food, trying to think of what else to say—what else he wants me to say.
“I’m not surprised,” he continues, his tone lightening a bit. “I’m more surprised it didn’t happen sooner, if I’m bein’ completely honest.”
I smirk at that admission, but it also kind of pisses me off. Sure, I’ve made the rounds, but typically, I’m very responsible. I think about telling him that, but it seems like a pointless argument at the moment.
“Tucker,” he says, exhaling a deep breath. “Family is family. You know that. We’re here for each other. So, you don’t have to carry all this on your own. It’s no wonder you’ve been actin’ like a crazy person lately—quiet, on edge, not sleepin’. I was beginnin’ to worry you were on drugs.”
This makes me laugh. The irony isn’t lost on me. A few months ago, my recreational drug use and abuse of alcohol were what brought me home. I didn’t tell anybody. But those issues seem like a drop in the bucket to what I’m dealing with right now. I think about telling my dad exactly that, but some secrets are better left unsaid. So, I decide to not go there and drop the rest of the bomb regarding Sammy.
“Sophie, Sammy’s mom, called me this mornin’. She’s not feelin’ well and wants me to pick Sammy up this afternoon and keep her for a few days.” I pause, feeling the tightness in my chest, partly from what I’ve agreed to and partly from what I’m getting ready to ask. Dad and Kay are nice enough to let me live here, but they didn’t sign on for having a four-year-old running around.
“Can I bring her here? Cami is gonna let me take her and Deacon’s place once they move into their cottage, so we’ll be out of your hair as soon as we can. But, for now, I don’t have anywhere else to take her. I’m sorry to throw this at you all at once, but I swear, it’s not on purpose. I’m tryin’ my best to figure everything out. It’s just a lot.”
“I have no doubt you are, but don’t feel like you have to move out. I can only imagine how you’re feelin’.” He pauses, shaking his head. “Actually, I’ve got a pretty good idea. You have a lot on your plate and a lot of decisions to make, so take the time you need. I’m glad you’ve at least talked to Cami about this. I bet she’s just fit to be tied,” he says, snickering.
“She’s already wanting to decorate Sammy’s room.” I smile, scratching the back of my head at the thought of Sammy and Cami finally meeting . . . and everyone else, for that matter.
Kay walks in and must sense the lingering tension in the room. She looks from Dad to me, and then back to Dad. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’s wrong, darlin’. You’re just gonna be a grandma again,” my dad tells her, smirking over at me, giving me that look that says you’ve made your bed, now lie in it. He’s not above making me pay for not telling him about Sammy sooner. Leaving me hanging, out on my own with Kay is his way of teaching me a lesson. There’s a lot left to be said, but those words are enough to set me as ease for the time being.
Kay’s hand flies to her mouth as she eyes turn from my dad to me. “Really? Tucker, I didn’t even know you were seein’ someone.”
I feel the twist in my chest and immediately think of Piper, but I do my best to ignore it. If I was seeing anyone, it’d be her. I know I said goodbye, and from my lack of communication with her, I’m sure she knows by now that I meant for good. However, the fact that she has no clue what’s going on in my life right now bothers me, even though we don’t have that kind of relationship, I want to tell her. The past week or so, it’s been weighing heavy on my mind, but I keep pushing it back. I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I have Sammy to worry about.
“I’m not. Sophie is someone I slept with one time five years ago, and I just found out we have a four-year-old daughter together. Her name is Sammy and she’ll be movin’ in with me soon.” I figure the honest truth is the best option.
“Oh, my goodness! This is wonderful news, Tucker. With a baby boy on the way and now a little girl to love on, not to mention a cousin for Carter to play with, my heart feels like it’s gonna burst,” she says. Her eyes are tearing up and she looks so happy. I don’t know why I was so hesitant to tell her and my dad about Sammy. I should’ve known they’d react this way. The relief I’m feeling right now is indescribable and it eases some of the tightness in my chest.
“When do we get to meet her?” Kay questions. The excitement in her voice is unmistakable.
My dad stands up from the table and grabs his plate, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Honey, I’ll fill you in on the details. Tucker has somewhere to be right now, isn’t that right, son?”
“Oh, yeah,” I look at my watch. “I’ve gotta run. I’ll, uh, be back. It’ll probably be around six or so. She lives in Houma. Takes about an hour and a half to get there.”
“Drive safe,” my dad says with a pointed stare and nod. “We’ll be here when you get back.”
“Right,” I agree. “Okay.”
“It’s gonna be fine.” Kay’s hand comes up to rest on my cheek and it calms me a little. “She’s gonna do great and so will you. You’ll see. Everything will work out like it’s supposed to.”
Without even knowing all the details about the situation, she still manages to say the right thing. And I hope she’s right.
I smile and give her a kiss on the cheek before I head out the door and climb in my truck.
I’m a nervous wreck as I drive to Houma—nervous-excited, as well as nervous-nervous. I’m happy to see Sammy again and the chance to spend some quality time with her, but I’m also scared shitless.
Then there’s the guilt.
When I remember why she’s in my life now, all I can think about is how unfair life is. If Sophie wasn’t sick, would I even know about Sammy? I’d like to think I would eventually, but truth be told, I might’ve never met her. It sucks that the main reason I’m getting my daughter is because her mama is dying.
These conflicting emotions are stressing me the fuck out. It’s a miracle I haven’t turned back to my wicked ways—when booze, drugs were my escape. I won’t deny that I’m tempted sometimes, but I know it’d just leave me feeling empty inside. I’d be back to that sorry ass fucker who woke up in the hotel room without a clue where he was or who he was with.
I can’t do that anymore.
I don’t want to do that anymore.
Besides, I have Sammy to think about now. I refuse to do anything that might jeopardize my relationship with her.
What I really need is a few days with Piper—a chance to lose myself in her. But those days are long gone, even if she does still text me from time to time. It’s over between us. Honestly, I don’t know why she still bothers, but I dread the day I realize she’s stopped trying and has moved on. Those texts, even though I don’t return them, are my life line to her—a thread that still links us together. When they stop, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
It makes me sick to my stomach to think about her moving on and being with someone else. That’s twisted as fuck. I know it is, but I can’t help it.
I still want her.
I still think about her every day.
But she wants casual and convenient, and I can’t do that anymore. My life is neither of those things and it’s getting ready to change drastically. There won’t be any time for a secret relationship or booty calls. I’ll be taking care of Sammy—being a dad.
Sophie isn’t the only one who’s dying. The old Tucker is too.
Shit is getting ready to get real.
That’s not okay with Piper. It doesn’t fit her needs. I don’t fit her needs.
I’m who she called when she wanted to shake things up—cause some trouble.
I was her guilty pleasure.
I was Piper’s middle finger to her parents, even though she never intended for them to know about us. She says she doesn’t care what they think, but secretly she craves their approval.
Don’t we all? Even when we’re older, we still want our parents to be proud of us.
One of these days, I hope she gets it—all of it. I hope they accept her for who she is and can be happy for her, because she deserves it.
As I get closer to Houma, I try to clear my mind of Piper by turning up my radio and singing loudly to one of my favorite songs. Soon, my hair is flying around my head and I’m a sweaty mess as I put every emotion and frustration into my performance on the steering wheel—playing air guitar and even a little drum solo.
It eases my soul for those few minutes.
That’s what I miss about the stage—the release and the rush I’d feel when the world faded away and all that was left was me and the lyrics. And maybe my guitar.
Smoothing my hair back, I pull up at the first stop light and grab my phone to open Sophie’s text with the address. It’s close by and only takes a few more minutes before I’m pulling up in front of a small pink house.
The paint is chipping and the grass is a little high, but other than that, it’s a cute place. There’s a short white fence enclosing the yard, with an old swing set off to the side that’s seen better days.
Hesitantly, I reach out for the latch on the gate when I hear my name from the front door. It makes my heart leap into my throat and I swallow hard as I look up to see Sammy standing there.
She’s wearing a yellow dress with a little white sweater and matching white tights. Her blonde curly hair is hanging around her face and she brushes it away as she glances up at me.
But it’s the smile that kills me.
“Hi, Tucker,” she says with a cockeyed grin as she squints her eyes into those little crescent moons that I’ve come to love so much.
“Hi, Sammy.”
It doesn’t escape me that she didn’t call me dad. She hasn’t yet, but I’m okay with that. I don’t want to rush her.
Shit.
I don’t want to rush myself.
All of this is so new and sudden. I’m having a hard time with it, and I’m a fucking adult. I can’t imagine how hard this is for her.
“Where’s your mama?” I ask, looking behind her looking for Sophie.
“She’s laying on the couch. She’s sick.” Her face falls and I see the deep concern etched on her forehead. I’m sure she’s also scared. By now, she has to know that the kind of sickness her mama has is serious. I wonder what Sammy has told her. Does she know her mama is dying?
“I’m sorry about that,” I tell her sincerely. “That’s why I’m here, though. Thought you might like to come stay with me for a couple days, give your mama a chance to rest and get better.”
Those words taste like acid on my tongue, because they’re a lie. Sophie’s not going to get better. But I can’t be the one to break that to Sammy. I can’t hurt her, ever.
Sammy frowns and looks behind her back toward the house, before turning back to me. “I don’t wanna leave her by herself.” Her words are sad and they hit me right in the gut.
I didn’t even consider that Sammy might not want to come with me. Of course, she doesn’t want to leave her mama. What the hell am I doing? Not just in this moment, but with everything. One second, I feel like I’ve got a plan and in the next breath, I get the rug swept from under me.
“I just need to rest, baby,” Sophie says, coming up behind Sammy and kneeling beside her. “Mamie will be back tomorrow. I’ve gotta be here to make sure she gets back from the hospital okay.” She smiles at Sammy and smoothes back her hair. “You go with Tucker and have some fun for me, okay?”
“Mamie is in the hospital?” I ask, because that’s news to me.
“Yeah,” Sophie says with wide eyes, as if to tell me it’s not open for discussion. “She just needed to see her doctor for a check-up. She’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Okay, well . . . that’s good.” I nod, trying to follow along with her.
“You sure you don’t want me to keep you company, Mommy?” Sammy asks, reaching out and putting her tiny hand on Sophie’s fragile cheek.
She looks worse today—worse than the last time I saw her and ten times worse that the first day she showed up at the barn. There are dark circles under her eyes and her skin has a sallow tint.
Again, I feel the need to do something—anything to make her better.
I also want to yell at the universe—stomp my feet like a child—and tell it to stop this shit. Because it’s not fair.
None of this is fair.
I bite down on my lip to keep myself together, because I have to be the adult. It’s not a role I’ve played much through life, always living in the moment, without a care in the world, but I have no choice right now. I’m the one Sophie and Sammy are depending on, and it’s the scariest feeling I’ve ever felt in my life.
“Let me get your bag,” Sophie says, standing up and catching herself on the door frame.
“I’ll get it.” I reach out for her and pause with my hand on her arm.
She looks up at me with the oddest expression. Her pale eyes are a contrast to her darker complexion, and even though she looks like death warmed over, I can see how I would’ve been attracted to her. She’s beautiful.
“I’ll be fine. Just stay here with Sammy.”
“No, let me help. Go sit or lay down. I’ve got this.”
I stand firm, knowing I have the upper hand in the situation, because the way her eyes flutter from time to time, I can tell she’s about to give out.
“Go,” I insist and I make my mind up that from now until however long, I’ll be here as much as I can. For Sammy. And for Sophie. We might’ve only had one night together, but from that one night came a lifetime connection.
We created a life.
It might’ve come as a surprise. And it definitely wasn’t the best timing, but that’s the way things work. We don’t always get to decide how or when things happen.
No matter how brief mine and Sophie’s time together was, she’s the mother of my child, and I refuse to let her go through this alone. How could I live with myself? How could I look my daughter in the eyes later, down the road, if I let her mother die alone?
I couldn’t.
I won’t.
Sophie reluctantly goes back inside. I know she’s not used to having help, but that changed the day she reached out to me. I wasn’t raised to turn my back on family. My dad reminded me of that today. And Sophie is part of my family.
After I’m inside the small house, I look around. Everything is neat and tidy—in its place. Although, there’s not much choice in that. The living room and dining room are together, and the small kitchen is off to the side, with a hallway that leads down to what I assume are the bedrooms.
“Uh, where’s her bag?” I ask, standing there, unsure of what I’m supposed to do and feeling a bit out of place, like I’m invading Sophie and Sammy’s personal space—their little corner of the world.
“Sitting on the table.” Sophie’s winded after her short walk from the door to the couch and I wonder how I’m going to leave, knowing she’s in such bad shape.
I walk over and grab the small pink bag. It’s light, like there’s nothing in it, but after unzipping it, I see there’s plenty. Tiny clothes. Tiny shoes. Tiny everything. So, it doesn’t weigh much. The heaviest thing in it is a ragged old monkey that’s laying on top.
“That’s Bubba,” Sammy says, watching me as I take inventory of the bag.
“Nice to meet you, Bubba,” I tell the monkey, smiling over at Sammy.
“He doesn’t talk.” She shakes her head, but gives me an adorable smile anyway. “But he loves tea.”
“Oh.” I nod. “That’s good. We have plenty of tea. Kay always keeps us well stocked on tea.”
“Who’s Kay?” she asks, cocking her head.
“Uh, she’s married to my dad.” I don’t know how much to tell her. She’s four. Four-year-olds don’t understand things like stepmoms and shit like that, do they?
“So, she’s your mom?” she asks with scrutinizing look that is far past her four years.
I laugh, shaking my head as I look over at Sophie who’s enjoying our conversation.
“No, she’s my stepmom, but she’s a great one.”
“She sounds nice.” Sammy leans on the chair and fiddles with a placemat on the table. “Am I gonna meet her?”
“Yeah, she’s really excited to meet you.”
Sophie smiles softly at me and then closes her eyes.
“Who else am I gonna meet?” she asks and I’m kind of glad she’s bringing it up, because I wondered how all of this would go. Now, I realize that there’s no need to worry. Sammy will take care of it. She’s not afraid to ask the right questions or say what she thinks and feels.
She’s just open and smart . . . so so smart.
Once again, I’m amazed with her, by her. I can’t believe I helped make her. She’s too good to come from me.
I swallow hard before answering. “You’ll meet my dad, your grandpa. His name is Clay. You can call him whatever you want.”
Sammy’s smile is mischievous. “What about . . .” She thinks for a minute, tapping her chin with her pointer finger. “Gaga?”
“Sammy,” Sophie admonishes with a firmer tone than I’ve heard her use.
“What?” she asks with mock innocence. “That’s what Mamie calls me.”
“And what did I tell you,” Sophie asks, looking at her with a pointed stare from her spot on the couch.
“Don’t repeat Mamie.”
“Right.”
I laugh, because I have no idea what they’re talking about, but seeing this side of Sammy is entertaining, to say the least. “What’s gaga?” I ask.
“Someone who’s nosy,” Sophie responds. “Like Sammy. Mamie thinks she asks too many questions.”
I laugh again, but stop abruptly, because the scowl on Sammy’s face tells me she doesn’t approve, and the last thing I need is to be on her bad side. “Sorry, not funny.”
“Well, it’s kinda funny,” Sammy agrees, but still has a pout on her face. “But I like questions. I can’t help it.” She shrugs her little shoulders and sighs. It might be the cutest thing I’ve witnessed all day.
“And what did I tell you?” Sophie asks, leaning her head back on the couch with her eyes closed, conserving her energy for her conversation with Sammy.
“Questions are good.”
“Right.”
Sophie coughs and Sammy runs over to her, grabbing the cup off the table beside the couch. “Here, Mommy. Drink this.”
Sophie takes a small sip and gives Sammy a weak smile. “Thank you, baby.”
I stand there, watching, unsure what to do. I guess we should leave, but taking Sammy away from Sophie feels wrong. Leaving Sophie alone feels even more wrong.
“Sammy, go grab your pink blanket,” Sophie instructs. “I forgot to pack it.”
“Okay.” Sammy carefully sets the cup back on the table and then runs down the hallway.
“I can stay,” I tell Sophie when Sammy is out of the room. “I can just hang around and—”
“No,” Sophie demands. “This is what I don’t want.”
“Well, I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“Don’t make me beg, because I will.” Sophie tries to sit up, so I go to her and pull the pillow up for her to lean against. “I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep. I had a blood transfusion a couple of days ago, and—” She winces, closing her eyes.
“Are you in pain?” I ask, reaching out for her, but afraid to touch her. I’ve heard that people who have cancer are often in a lot of pain, but I don’t know much, if anything.
“Sorry,” she says, finally relaxing back into the pillow. “I have medicine, but I’m afraid to take it when it’s just me and Sammy. When I do take it, the pain is manageable.”
“Okay.” I still have no idea what to do. All of this is so foreign to me. I feel like I’m having an out of body experience, looking down on myself walking through this scene from a movie.
A terrible, tragic movie.
The kind you know doesn’t have a good ending.
“Really,” Sophie continues. “I’ll be fine. A couple days of rest and meds and I should be back to normal . . . or whatever this is.” She gives me a small smile and I try to return it.
“Are you sure?” I ask as Sammy runs back into the room.
“Found it,” she says proudly, holding up a tattered blanket that doesn’t look much better than the monkey in her bag.
“I’m sure.” Sophie reaches out for Sammy and pulls her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head and inhaling deeply.
I don’t blame her. If I was Sophie, I would be soaking up as much of Sammy as I could.
Sammy is life.
She’s everything good in the world.
“Have fun with Tucker, okay?” Sophie instructs.
“Okay, Mommy.”
“Call me. If you feel sad at all, just call me. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Okay.” Sammy’s demeanor shifts again and she leans in for another hug from Sophie, squeezing her little arms around her.
The interaction breaks me deep down in my soul.
“We’re just an hour and a half away,” I manage. “If you need anything, call.” I pin her with my stare, willing her to listen to me—to do as I’m asking. I need that much from her.
“I will.” She nods, pulling a blanket up higher on her chest. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I’m not sure why, but before we leave, I lean down and place a kiss on her forehead. It’s not out of love, not the romantic kind, anyway. It comes from a place of wanting to soothe her, make her better, take away some of her pain—set her at ease—tell her she’s not alone.
I’m here.
I’ll be here until she isn’t.
And then I’ll be here for Sammy.