~ Clay

“Your father was one of the smartest men I’ve ever known,” I tell Rose as I tuck her to bed that night. “He knew exactly what to say, when to say it and how to say it. His intuition was always spot-on and his heart was always in the right place so he always made good decisions.”

“And he was good with computers,” Rose adds.

“And he was good with computers,” I repeat as I tuck the blanket under her chin. “He was one of the best programmers I ever knew. You should have seen him when he was at work. His fingers go lightning fast over the keys…” I demonstrate with my own hands. “And he doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, too.”

“I know. Daddy loved computers.”

“That he did. And horses, so no wonder you love ponies.” I touch her cheek. “But he loved you more.”

Rose smiles. “What else was Daddy good at?”

I touch my chin. “He was good at being on time. He knew a lot about history, too, and music. Ah, but he couldn’t sing.”

Rose laughs. “I know. He couldn’t even sing Incy, Wincy Spider properly.”

I can imagine. “He couldn’t play video games, too, but he was good with crossword puzzles.”

“I love puzzles.”

“I’m not surprised.” I touch the tip of Rose’s nose. “You know; I see so much of your father in you.”

“Andrea says Daddy lives here.” She puts her hand over her heart.

I smile at her. “Yes, he does. He lives in my heart, too.”

Rose’s eyes grow wide. “He can live in two hearts at once?”

“He lives on in the hearts of everyone who remembers him,” I tell her.

“Oh.” She seems slightly disappointed.

“But of course, he lives in your heart more than he does anywhere else,” I add.

That brings the smile back on her face. “You’re like Daddy, too.”

My eyebrows furrow. “How so?”

“Well, you have the same hair.” She runs her hand over my chin, which I haven’t shaved for three days. “And you kind of have the same smell.”

“We do?” I sniff the sleeve of my shirt.

I wonder if it’s just sweat she’s smelling because I’m pretty sure John never wore cologne. On the other hand, I do, but that was this morning so the smell might have worn off.

“And you’re good at computers, too,” Rose says.

“You think so?”

“And you like the same music.”

“That we do,” I agree.

“But you sing better.”

I chuckle. “Well, thank you very much.”

“And you make better pancakes.”

I pat her on the head. “I can make you pancakes everyday if you like.”

Rose frowns. “Maybe not everyday.”

I ruffle her hair. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

She falls silent for a moment.

“What is it?” I ask her, worried that she might be having a relapse.

She looks at me. “Are you going to be my Daddy now?”

Now, it’s my turn to pause, the question taking me back. It’s the first time she’s asked me about it, after all.

I nod, running my hands through her hair. “Yes, Rose. I’m going to be your Daddy now. It’s what your Daddy wanted me to be. But if you don’t like it, I…”

“I don’t mind,” she interrupts, sliding further beneath her blanket. Then she yawns. “Do you think you can sing me a song, Daddy Clay?”

Daddy Clay. That was fast. And to think I’m still trying to accept my new role. I can’t say I’m not happy, though. If anything, it means that Rose is ready to move on, to live again.

Andrea’s right. Children are resilient and Rose is especially so. She’s one strong, smart girl.

Just like John.

“What song would you like?” I ask her.

“Do you know the Dora song?” Rose asks.

I shake my head. “Sorry, kiddo, but that’s not part of my repertoire.”

“Then what about Wheels on the Bus?”

I touch my chin. “I think I remember some of the words.”

“Okay. Sing it to me?”

I take a deep breath. “The wheels on the bus go round and round…”

---

Finally, Rose is asleep and it’s a good thing, too, because I was starting to run out of made-up lyrics for Wheels On the Bus, having only remembered the first two verses of the nursery rhyme.

I plant a kiss on her forehead and tiptoe out of the room, leaving the lamp beside her bed on, then I close the door gently, making sure it gives no more than a little creak.

“Daddy Clay, huh?” Andrea asks, leaning on the wall by the door.

Has she been there the whole time?

“Sorry.” She gets off the wall. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just trying to find out how she was and then I kind of got enraptured by your conversation and forgot to leave.”

I put my hands in my pockets. “You should have just joined us.”

Andrea shakes her head. “The two of you are the ones who knew John and knew him best. He’s what brought you together and he’ll probably be the strongest bond between the two of you.”

I don’t want to admit it because I don’t want her to feel like an outsider but she’s right. Only Rose and I knew John. We were probably two of the most important people to him just as he was one to us. And that is the biggest thing Rose and I have had in common from the start.

I scratch my nape as we walk down the hall. “You know, talking about John may be good for Rose but it’s also good for me. Talking to her about him makes him feel alive, like he’s in the same room with us and together, we can think about all the good things, the happy times, instead of dwelling on the pain.”

Indeed, Rose isn’t the only one in mourning. I am, too. I still am not over John’s death, but now that I have someone to share the grief with and the good memories, then I feel that I can get over it faster.

“Good,” Andrea says. “It’s easier for two people to deal with someone’s death than it is for just one. No matter how much people say they know how you feel at a funeral or say they’re sorry for your loss, only the people who’ve lost the same person as you can understand how you feel.”

I nod. I did feel that way at the funeral. Apart from Gavin, I was the one who knew John best and when I was giving that eulogy, I felt like no one else could really understand what I was saying. They were listening, yes. They were nodding. They were smiling, laughing. They were crying. But I still felt alone in that room just as I felt only emptiness from their kind words and gestures, empty like John’s grave before they put him in it.

Only Gavin knows how I felt. And now, Rose does, too. I know how she feels and to some extent, she knows how I feel. Together, we can weather the pain and the loss and remember John with smiles.

Is that why you brought us together, John?

And here I thought, he left Rose to me so I could take care of her but it seems like Rose isn’t the only one who’ll be taken care of.

Oh, John, you always thought ahead and you always thought about me.

“I think Rose is going to be okay now,” Andrea says. “I think both of you are. For what it’s worth, I think you’ll make a wonderful father.”

I look at her. I like every word she’s saying, but at the same time, they worry me. It’s almost as if she’s preparing to leave, as if she’s saying she’s no longer needed.

“Rose still has her phobia, you know,” I remind her. “We still have to cure that.”

“Yup.” Andrea nods. “I think it will be easier, though, now that the two of you are starting to become like father and daughter.”

I hope so but I’m also scared. Once Rose is cured, will Andrea leave? I don’t want her to. I can’t let her. I won’t. Maybe Rose will stop needing her but I won’t.

“None of this would have happened without you,” I tell her, reaching for her hand. “Thank you, Andrea.”

She pulls her hand away, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, I think I’ll go to bed now. We’re leaving Billings tomorrow, aren’t we?”

I nod. “Yup. We’re off to Grangeville, Idaho, our last stop before Seattle.”

Andrea nods as well. “I think that this trip has accomplished its purpose for Rose.”

But not for me.

“I think she’s almost ready to go home.”

But I’m not. I almost wish we could start this journey all over again.

“Good night.” She opens the door to her room. “Sleep well. We’re leaving early tomorrow.”

---

“I’m sorry but I don’t think we can leave today,” Andrea tells me in the morning after opening the door, leaning on the frame.

I was up early as usual but she wasn’t so I decided to check on her, just to see if she was getting ready to leave. Now, it’s obvious to me that she isn’t.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned.

“I’m having cramps.”

“Leg cramps?”

“No.” She sighs, placing a hand over her belly. “The kind that comes once a month.”

My eyebrows furrow. “The kind that…?” Then it dawns on me. “Oh.”

Now, I understand. Andrea is having her…um, period, and apparently, she’s in a significant amount of pain, which I’ve heard isn’t unusual, though this is the first time I’m around someone who’s currently experiencing it.

“You and Rose can go ahead if you like,” she says, putting another hand on her belly.

She walks away from the door then winces as she sits on the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright?” I ask as I approach her, even more concerned.

“If you’re asking if I’ll live, I probably will. I’ve survived for this long, after all.”

If she still has a sense of humor, then she’s probably fine.

“But I’m in a lot of pain right now and I feel a migraine coming on and I just don’t feel like traveling right now so you can go on without me.”

I shake my head. “No way. Rose and I aren’t going anywhere without you.”

We’re a team – the three of us. I want Andrea to know that.

Andrea looks at me. “Sure?”

“Sure. It’s not like we’re on a tight schedule. Another day or two won’t hurt.”

In fact, I feel that the longer this trip, the better.

“If you say so.” She gets up and moves under the covers. “I think I’ll lie down now.”

“Do you need anything?” I ask her. “Pain reliever, maybe?”

“I already took one.” She lies down.

“Breakfast?”

“Not really hungry.”

“Okay.” I walk to the door.

“Oh, there is one thing,” she says suddenly.

I turn around. “Yes?”

“I think I might need another pack of sanitary napkins.”

---

Napkins, napkins…

I say the word over and over in my head like a mantra as I push the grocery cart through the aisles with Rose in it.

Already, Rose has managed to fill it with all kinds of food and I’ve bought some for Andrea, too, including some Skittles to hopefully make her feel better and a small jar of cinnamon tea with ginger and honey, which I read is good for menstrual cramps.

Now, all that’s left to find are the sanitary napkins.

Do I even know what they look like?

Finally, I find the right aisle. As soon as I turn into it, though, I find myself with another problem. All Andrea told me was that she wanted Stayfree with wings. I don’t even know what that means – how can a sanitary napkin have wings? Now that I’m looking at all the packs, though, I realize there are several varieties of that – Maxi Regular, Maxi Overnight, Maxi Thick, Ultra Thin, All Night, Dry-Max, Secure. Fuck, there are even more varieties than Coke. Which one do I get?

After a few minutes of thought, I decide to get a small pack of each variety. That way, whatever she needs, it’s sure to be in the cart. It must be strange, though, because I can swear the woman who passed me by just giggled.

Fine. Laugh at the man who doesn’t know how to pick the right sanitary napkin.

“What are these?” Rose asks, fishing out one small pack from the cart.

“They’re for Andrea,” I tell her, pushing the cart so that we can get out of the aisle before I get any weirder looks and giggles.

“Is Andrea going to be my Mommy?”

I stop, thrown off by the question. Where did this come from all of a sudden?

Then again, I suppose it’s only natural for a child to want a mother now that she has a father. Besides, she’s never known what it’s like to have a mother and she probably needs one.

“I don’t know,” I confess as I continue pushing the cart. “I’m afraid that’s up to Andrea.”

Rose’s thick eyebrows crease. “She doesn’t want to be my Mommy?”

“I’m sure she wants to be, but it’s not that simple. Being a Mommy is a big responsibility.”

“But I want her to be my Mommy.”

“I know, kiddo.” I pat her head. “I do, too.”

Rose’s eyes grow wide. “You want her to be your Mommy?”

“No, silly. I want her to be your Mommy, because I just know she’ll be amazing. But like I said, it’s not up to me, not up to us.”

“But she said she was never gonna leave.”

I raise an eyebrow. Andrea did?

If so, that’s wonderful but I try not to get too excited by it. For all I know, Rose might have just misunderstood what Andrea said.

“We’ll just wait and see, shall we?”

“Okay.” Rose nods, inspecting the pack that’s still in her hands. “What are these again?”

I take it from her, tossing it back into the cart. “sanitary napkins.”

“Sani…?” She seems confused.

“Sorry, kiddo, but I can’t help you there,” I tell her as I head to the counter. “I’m just as confused as you are. Maybe you can ask Andrea when we get home.”

---

“Well, sanitary napkins are like bandages and diapers for older people at the same time,” Andrea explains to Rose in the dining room as she takes a sip of the tea I’ve prepared for her.

“Diapers?” Rose’s eyes grow wide with confusion.

“For older women, specifically,” Andrea adds. “It’s…to catch blood. That’s why I said it’s like a bandage. You know, you put bandage on a wound to stop the blood from coming out, but you wear it like a diaper.”

I try not to imagine it.

“Blood?” Rose asks, scared.

“Not too much blood,” Andrea says quickly. “And it doesn’t mean like I’m sick or dying or anything. It’s part of being a woman.” She sets down her cup. “You know how you shed your old skin or you lose hair every now and then?”

Rose nods.

“Well, we need to lose blood just as naturally as that, once every month but we can’t very well have that scattered everywhere, can we?”

Rose grimaces as she shakes her head.

“So, we wear these.” Andrea holds up a pack. “That way, no one will ever see the blood.”

“But it’s still there.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to worry about it. It only lasts for a few days.”

“A few days?” Rose looks even more horrified.

“I’ll be okay,” Andrea assures, patting her on the head.

Rose, however, doesn’t seem convinced, going to the living room with a frown.

I pull out a chair. “Wow. That was one hell of a conversation.”

“One she’s too young to have,” Andrea says, lifting her cup again. “And here, I thought death was the hardest thing to talk about with a little girl.”

I chuckle as I sit down. “You did well, though.”

“Shut up.” She glares at me. “I’m not in the best mood, you know. I might end up throwing something at you.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “I mean it, though. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Of course, not. You’re a man.”

That I am. And Rose is going to be a woman someday. She needs a woman to look up to.

She needs a mother.

And the woman beside me is the best choice for a number of reasons.

I can’t just ask it of her, though. I can’t put that kind of pressure on her. Besides, I don’t want her to stay with me and Rose just for Rose’s sake. I want her to stay for all our sakes. I want her to stay because she wants to, because she wants to be with me just as much as I want to be with her.

“This tea doesn’t taste so bad,” Andrea says after another sip.

“I’ve read it’s good for you.”

“Thanks.” She smiles. “And thanks for the lifetime supply of napkins.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you making fun of me now?”

She shrugs. “I just thought you knew everything about women.”

“Not everything,” I tell her. “Women don’t exactly talk about…what they go through every month.”

Andrea sighs. “It’s unfair, you know. You guys get all the pleasure and we women get all the pain.”

“I can give you some of the pleasure, too.” The words come out of my mouth without thinking.

She freezes in the act of bringing her cup to her lips then puts it down on the saucer with a clatter before standing up.

“I think I’ll go back to my room now.”

I stand up, too. “Andrea…”

“And I think it will be better if you don’t disturb me.” She grabs the paper bag with the sanitary packs and starts walking away.

No. I can’t let her leave like this.

“I got you some lavender bath salts by the way.” I quickly fish them out of another paper bag, handing them to her.

Andrea just looks at them then at me. “I don’t need you to take care of me, Clay. I can do that. I’ve been doing that for the past thirteen years.”

She leaves the room and I sit on a chair, sighing.

Fuck.

She’s even tougher to get through than Rose. Just when I think I’ve made a bit of progress, she shuts me down. Just when I think I’ve taken a step forward, she pushes me two steps back.

Will I ever catch up to her? Is there anything I can do to keep her from running away? Wasn’t she the one who said we had to make peace with the past?

Oh, Andrea, what am I going to do with you?