~ Clay

“Ready or not, here I come.”

I step away from the wall and look around the living room, trying to see if there’s a foot or a clump of golden hair sticking out.

None. It seems Rose has become better at hiding. Good for her.

For the past few minutes, we’ve been playing hide-and-seek. Before that, Rose and I made pancakes and then played Go Fish and then Jenga, which was under the coffee table, and then make-believe, Rose pretending she was a fairy princess and I her noble steed who later turned into a dragon then a prince.

Whew. Six year-olds sure have an active imagination. And lots of energy. Who would have thought these childish games can be tiring?

I’m not complaining, though. I’m glad that Rose has finally started to act like other children, that she’s finally like the little girl she is instead of a scared, little kitten or a lifeless doll.

Besides, I’m having fun.

I look behind the couch. Not there. I look behind the large vase. Not there, either.

She’s definitely become better at this.

I go into the kitchen, pausing in front of the door to the pantry.

“I know you’re in there, Rose. I’m coming for you.”

Quickly, I open the door, ready to shout ‘I found you!’, but Rose isn’t in the pantry, either. I scratch my chin. I wonder where she can be hiding.

Just then, I hear a giggle from the cupboard and I grin. She may have gotten better but she still has a long way to go.

Quietly, I walk to the cupboard and pull the doors open with both hands. “Gotcha!”

Giggling, she comes out of hiding, pushing me away and running past me. I quickly catch her, though, and as she falls to the floor, I tickle her, both of us laughing.

“Stop!” Rose shrieks, trying to thwart my attempts.

“Rose?”

I turn my head towards the doorway, seeing Andrea standing there with her hand on her chest, panting and sighing in relief.

“I was afraid something bad had happened,” she says, letting her hand fall.

“It is bad,” I tell her, looking at Rose. “Rose can’t seem to stop laughing.”

Indeed, I’ve stopped tickling her but she’s still rolling on the floor, laughing her heart out.

Andrea sighs. “Well, it looks like the two of you are having fun.”

“Are you kidding?” I sit on the floor, crossing my legs. “Rose and I have been doing nothing but having fun all morning. Right, kiddo?”

She nods, sitting up.

“I actually feel like Rose has been playing enough games to make up for the past few weeks,” I add.

“Well, playing is good for her,” Andrea says. “For any child, actually. It not only plays a big role in cognitive and social development but also helps children deal with their emotions, which makes it particularly helpful for those who are recovering from trauma like Rose.”

I give her a salute. “Got it, Doc.”

Lately, the fact that Andrea is actually a doctor has been slipping through my mind. No, that’s not right. Maybe I’ve been forgetting that Andrea is a doctor because I want to, because I’m trying to. Because maybe if I don’t think of her as a doctor, I won’t remember that she’s only here because I asked her to help Rose. Because maybe if I don’t think she’s a doctor, I can pretend things are the same way they used to be.

But of course, she’s a doctor and a brilliant one at that. The combination of her intelligence, her kindness and her beauty has always been admirable, irresistible, and the fact that she’s been able to fulfill her dreams makes me admire her all the more.

It makes me want her all the more.

“By the way, I bought you a pony,” Andrea says, giving one of the paper bags she’s holding to Rose.

“Pony!” Rose shouts with delight.

Without wasting a moment, she opens the paper bag and pulls out a pair of glittering, purple sunglasses, a small pony in the corner of one of the lens.

“Pretty,” she says, trying it on.

“That you are,” I agree. “Now, you could pass for a celebrity.”

Rose giggles.

“And I got some food, too.” Andrea puts down the other paper bags on the counter. “There’s a grilled cheese sandwich and mozzarella sticks for Rose and a hot beef sandwich for you.”

I get off the floor. “For me?”

“Yup. Apparently, it’s the best hot beef sandwich in all of North Dakota. I’ve tasted it myself and it’s delicious.” She puts her thumb and forefinger together, drawing an invisible check mark in the air.

“If you say so.”

I open the paper bag and immediately, the smell of the beef and the gravy waft over my senses, making my mouth water.

“Smells good.”

“Tastes better,” Andrea assures with one hand on her hip, seemingly very proud of her discovery.

And to think she looked like such a mess when she left the house this morning, remorseful and devastated. Somehow, she managed to regroup and even stumble on the state’s best sandwich.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” I ask, looking at her. “After all, you did say it was all my fault.”

She looks away, shaking her head. “Forget what I said. Forget everything I said. In fact, it’s better if you forget everything about last night. It was a mistake, after all.”

Forget last night? I don’t think I can. Her words are still ringing in my head, imprinted on my memory. I can still remember how soft her lips were against mine and the feel of her body in my arms. I doubt I can forget those.

For Andrea, it may have been a mistake but for me, it’s a glimpse, a taste. She may have been drunk but it was all real.

“Do you think you can do that?” she asks, meeting my gaze.

“I’ll try,” I lie.

“Good. I’ll go take a shower.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the kitchen. How can she do this to me? Tease me and then leave me hanging, which was in a literal sense last night? How can she give me a glimmer of hope and then push me away?

Still, hope is hope. She may be fighting it but I know she still has feelings for me. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have kissed me. Otherwise, she would have been able to go out with other men. Her defenses are crumbling, slowly but surely, the truth like water coming out of the cracks.

You can’t run away from the past or the truth, Andrea.

---

Apparently, she can run away from me, though, I think as I glance at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of her in the backseat.

Before we started our trip to Billings, Montana, Andrea suddenly decided she’d sit in the backseat with Rose, saying that she wanted to play with her. As slightly disappointed as I was – or maybe a bit more than slightly – I made no protest and I’ve been keeping my eyes on the road while listening to music for the past six hours, munching on something every now and then, while the two girls played Snakes n’ Ladders on their tiny, magnetic board, played Go Fish, sang songs, told stories and sculpted ponies and pies out of clay.

Right now, they’ve stopped playing, though, Rose having dozed off with her head on Andrea’s lap and Andrea simply looking out the window, deep in thought.

I wonder what she’s thinking.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask her.

“It’s nothing.” She shakes her head. “I was just wondering how Rose would be if she was a perfectly normal girl, wondering how her future might turn out if she had a mother and father like most other children.”

“That’s not nothing. So, what’s the result? What did you imagine?”

“She’d be good at school, have many friends. She’d ride horses with her father, bake cookies with her mother. She might even be a good older sister. And then she’d be whatever she wants to be and have a happy life.”

“You sound like all that’s impossible.”

“I just seems like life has been cruel to her from the start. She was sick from the moment she was born and now, she’s lost her father.” Andrea sighs. “But you’re right. It’s not impossible. She can still have a bright future. Once she’s cured, once she’s managed to get past her father’s death, then she can go back to school, have friends and live a happy life with you, her new father. Who knows? Maybe one day, she’ll even have a mother. She needs one, after all.”

I glance at her. “Are you volunteering?”

“No,” she answers quickly. Too quickly.

“Just kidding,” I tell her. “I’ve never really thought of marrying, though, not since…”

I pause, knowing that I’m in danger of straying into forbidden territory.

Andrea seems to have sensed it, too, because she suddenly dismisses the subject. “I think I’ll take a nap, too.”

To make her point even clearer, she puts on her earphones and closes her eyes.

Alright, alright. I get the message. It’s inevitable that we keep straying to the past, given how much it meant to us but if she doesn’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.

I concentrate on my driving, listening to my own music until I hear sirens up ahead.

An accident?

So far, we’ve traveled for hundreds of miles across four states and we haven’t come across any accidents but I guess you’re bound to pass by one. Road accidents are one of the leading causes of death all over the world, after all. Just take John, for example.

John.

“Fuck.”

As we approach the scene of the accident, I suddenly realize that it’s not something Rose should see. I think of turning back but it’s too late. The car and the truck are just up ahead, the cops and paramedics pulling a limp body from the driver’s seat of the car.

And then the worst thing I’ve been thinking of unfolds, Rose’s voice coming from the backseat.

“What’s happe–?”

“Shh,” Andrea cuts her off, hugging her tight so that her face is pressed against Andrea’s chest, unable to see what’s going on outside.

Thank goodness Andrea managed to prevent Rose from seeing anything. At least, I hope she hasn’t seen anything.

Or God help us all.

---

“Clay, help!”

At the sound of Andrea’s plea, I rush into the next bedroom, pushing the door open and running to her side. She’s trying to hold Rose but Rose’s arms and legs are flailing, screaming even as tears flow down her cheeks.

A nightmare. Again.

I take over, placing my arms around Rose.

“Shh. It’s alright now, Rose. It’s alright.”

She doesn’t seem to hear me, continuing to struggle.

This is bad.

“Do you know if she saw something at the accident earlier?” I ask Andrea even as I continue to try to calm Rose down, not using all of my might for fear that I might hurt her.

“I’m not sure,” Andrea answers. “I hugged her and held her head but before that, I’m not sure. She might have been able to glance out the window. This is all my fault. I should have known we’d come across something like this. I should have prevented her from seeing anything. And I was in the backseat, too.”

“It’s not your fault,” I tell her. “And blaming yourself isn’t going to help.”

I’m already having a hard time trying to calm Rose down. I can’t try to calm Andrea down at the same time, too.

Thankfully, she seems to regain her composure. “Right. I’m sorry. Let’s just try to calm her down.”

Easier said than done but I continue to hold onto Rose. Eventually, she runs out of energy, lying limp in my arms but she continues to sob.

“Shh,” I tell her, rocking her like a baby. “I’m here, Rose. It’s fine.”

“Daddy’s dead, isn’t he?” she asks suddenly.

I freeze. I thought we already had this conversation. I thought I’d already told her that her father was dead.

No. I told her that John was gone, not dead. And there’s a big difference.

I glance at Andrea and she nods, giving me the go signal even though she seems to be frightened.

I can’t blame her. It’s a frightening thing to have to tell someone that the person he or she loves the most is gone forever and yet, someone has to tell Rose.

“Yes, sweetheart,” I tell Rose the truth as I run my hands through her soft hair. “Your father…died in a car accident. He’s never coming back.”

“No!” she screams, beating her fists at my chest.

I just let her, saying nothing as I continue to hold her, a big lump in my throat and a weight on my chest. Finally, she tires out and she collapses in my arms, this time sound asleep.

I set her back down on the bed and pull the blanket up to her shoulders, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Poor Rose. Just when Andrea and I thought she was getting better, just when she had come out of her shell, her whole world just falls apart again.