As soon as Barbara and I arrive in Los Angeles, everyone is just waking up to start the day. I tried to sleep on the plane, but each time I closed my eyes I imagined what Iris’s body looked like and my stomach dry heaved. There was nothing left after I expelled the drink I had the second I sat down. I couldn’t, for the life of me, wrap my head around the idea that my high school sweetheart was no longer in this realm. Even at our worst I never wished her any harm. For the longest time, she was my best friend until my life went into a direction that she felt was leaving her behind. Still, she was my wife and the mother of my children, and this is the last thing I ever wanted.

There’s an SUV waiting for us as soon as we step onto the tarmac. It’s one of those all black types that you see on television being driven by an FBI agent or someone equally badass. Barbara is on her phone and giving the driver directions while I follow behind in a daze. If it weren’t for her, I’d still be in my house trying to figure out what to do. Everything flies by in a blur as the driver speeds through traffic with his hazards on, hurryingly getting me to the morgue so I can identify the body.

As I look out the window at the concrete jungle, I try to find a little of what Iris loved so much about this place. The streets lack trees. There’s a haze hovering over the city. Everything is tar, concrete, and brick. Nothing has life. It’s nothing like Nashville where we grew up or the ranch that we bought together. Here, you can reach out and touch your neighbor, giving you little to no privacy.

The house Iris lives in… or I guess lived in, is one that I own. I bought it mostly for the girls, so they had a place to live knowing full well that Iris was living beyond her means when she first moved here and I didn’t know how much of her alimony she had left. She wanted the payout in one lump sum instead of having me make monthly payments. I balked but relented because I always gave her what she wanted. I always wondered what she would do if she ran out of money. Would she ask me for more or take from the girls’ child support? Both questions I’ll never have answers to. Not that I truly need to know. The girls never complained about their mother, and that was good enough for me.

There’s an officer waiting for me when I get out of the vehicle that is meant to hide my identity. He shakes my hand and introduces himself as Detective Pete O’Brien with the Los Angeles Police Department, the same man who called to tell me that my ex-wife was dead. I must not say anything because Barbara is instantly talking to him as we walk into the medical examiner’s office. The idea of being in a room with other bodies doesn’t sit well with me, and I have to find the nearest trashcan to dry heave into.

“You have to be strong, Levi,” Barb is saying as she rubs my back.

I nod but don’t mean it. No one prepares you for this, but it has to be me. Stormy is far too young to have to do something like this. It’d scar her for life, and as her father, I will do whatever I can to protect her.

Barbara hands me a bottle of water from her bag. I take a swig and swish it around in my mouth before spitting into the garbage can. I wish the water was vodka, but I suppose showing up drunk or with booze on my breath probably wouldn’t sit right.

“Are there other bodies in the room?” I ask as we make our way down the hall.

“You won’t actually go into a room with her, but see from behind a window.”

“So I can’t touch her?”

Barbara looks shocked at my question. She should be because I am. I can’t for the life of me wonder why I asked that question. I don’t want to touch her dead body. Or do I? Do I need to hold her hand and ask her what she was doing when she got into the accident? And ask her who was taking care of our girls? Do I want to yell at her and ask what was so important about this city that she had to leave me for it?

The medical examiner must sense my need for closure because he motions for me to enter the room. Consciously I pull the brim of my hat down a bit farther even though I’m sure he knows who I am. It’s out of habit when I want privacy.

He joins me on the other side of the steel table. Under the white sheet is the body of the woman that was once the love of my life. Deep down, I had hoped she’d come back, that we’d be a family again, but also knew it would never happen. My life wasn’t one she wanted to live. Not that I could fault her. From the day we met, everything was about my music and me. She was there when I signed my first deal. Stayed up late nursing Stormy to help me write the words that I sing.

The examiner grips the end of the white sheet and looks at me as if I’m supposed to give him some sign that I’m ready. I can honestly say that I will never be ready to see Iris as anything other than being alive and a total pain in my ass.

The sheet is pulled back slowly as if this process needs to be a grand reveal when it should be like ripping off a Band-Aid. It should be in one swift motion, so the agony of knowing you’ve lost someone isn’t prolonged.

But once I can see her face tears cloud my vision, and my hand is covering my mouth, not because I’m about to throw-up again but because my heart is ripping in two.

“Can you positively identify this woman as Iris Austin?” the medical examiner asks.

I nod and turn out of the room, falling right into Barb’s arms as she meets me in the doorway. I cry into her shoulder, much like I did when Iris asked for a divorce, and she rubs my back, telling me that everything will be okay. I should believe her, but I don’t. Nothing will ever be okay since the mother of my children is gone from our lives forever.

The detective leads us into a room where he sits down with a folder in front of him. Barb and I sit across from him, and while I stare at the gray table, Barbara grips my hand.

“Mr. Austin, our preliminary report indicates that Mrs. Austin was a passenger in the car. The driver died on impact, and Mrs. Austin expired on her way to the hospital. The car was traveling at a high rate of speed with drugs and alcohol being involved with both occupants.”

“Whose car?” I ask.

“Hers,” he says.

“Was anyone else hurt?” Barbara asks. I know what she’s doing when she asks. She wants to be prepared for a lawsuit. It doesn’t matter if the car is in my name or not, once the press gets wind, the vultures will be out.

“No, it was a single car accident.”

I continue to stare at the table, wondering what the hell Iris was thinking yesterday when she decided that drinking and mixing drugs was a smart thing to do, let alone drive.

“When can you release the body?” Barbara asks.

“Tomorrow,” he says.

I nod and push my chair back before standing. I reach out and shake his hand. “Thank you. We’ll make arrangements for someone to pick her up tomorrow,” I say as if I’ve just adopted a dog from the humane society and I can’t get it right away.

Barbara follows me out, but this time she’s not on her phone barking orders at someone, but holding my arm while she cries. I know she’s feeling the loss as much as I am and it’s about to get worse. How do I look my two babies in their eyes and tell them that their mother is dead?

The drive to the girls’ house is done in silence. Barbara sits in the back next to me. She holds my hand until we pull into the driveway. The absence of Iris’s car isn’t lost on me. It dawns on me that I’ll probably have to do something with it unless the police just keeps it. I don’t know the protocol for things like that.

Barbara uses her key to let us into the house. The driver sets our bags down and excuses himself. I haven’t a clue as to where he plans to go though unless sitting in the SUV is how he waits.

Willow comes running around the corner. The look on her face, before she realizes it’s me standing in the doorway, is of anger. She’s pissed that her mother isn’t home, and once it hits her that her daddy is at her front door her face morph’s into a smile, and she picks up speed until she’s launching herself into my arms.

“Daddy,” she squeals in delight. She’s happy to see me, at least until I break her heart.

“Daddy, what are you doing here?” The sound of Stormy’s voice has me putting Willow down. She immediately moves into Barb’s embrace.

“Is that how you say hi?” I ask, jokingly.

Stormy comes over and wraps her arms around my waist. “Sorry, I’m just shocked and was hoping that you were mama.”

As I suspected, the girls have spent the night fretting. “That’s why I’m here. Let’s go into the living room and talk.”

When Stormy looks at me, there are tears in her eyes. I have a feeling that she knows something has happened to her mother. Both girls sit down with Barbara in the middle of them. She’s already doting on them, and neither seems to mind. They’re going to need her. Hell, so am I.

I look at my girls, wondering how I’m going to tell them the news that are going to rock their foundation. They both stare at me expectantly as I stand in front of them. Taking a deep breath and running my hand over the top of my hat to adjust it, I muster the courage to tell my girls the worst news of their lives.

“This is really hard for me to say,” I tell them, choking up. “But your mama… she was…” I pause, needing to catch my breath. I clear my throat and shake my head as I try to find the words. “There was an accident last night, and she didn’t make it.”

I don’t know who cried first or the loudest. Both wails were enough to bring me to my knees as my arms begged for the girls that mean more than anything to me. Both collapse into my arms, both sobbing and asking why. I’ve been asking myself the same question since three am this morning. Why? Why was this guy or life she was trying to live more important than our children? Why didn’t she call a cab? Why didn’t she stay home with the girls? These are a few of the questions that we will never have any answers to, that we will have to guess about for the rest of our lives.

I don’t know how long the girls and I sit on the floor together, but it’s the sound of the phone ringing and Barbara telling the caller that we don’t have a comment that gets us moving. As much as I don’t want the girls out of my sight, I know they need time alone. It’s Stormy that leaves first, slamming her door multiple times before letting out another wail. When I move to go to her, Barb stops me.

“Give her time, Levi.” I stare down the hall that she disappeared, wondering if Barb is right.

“Daddy?”

The sound of Willow’s voice has me turning to look at her.

“What is it, love bug?”

“Do we have to go to school?”

I shake my head. “No, you don’t. We are going to stay home and… and I don’t know Willow, but no school.”

Barbara takes Willow with her into the kitchen, and that is when I decide that Stormy needs me. She may not realize it, but she does. Or maybe I need her because I too lost someone I loved.