“Hey,” I whisper. My throat is tight. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
Lies. Such obvious lies.
But what else am I supposed tosay? That I’m sorry? That I should have been faster with the bear spray? That I froze when it mattered most and now his face is gone and it’s all my fault?
Yeah. That’ll help.
I focus on breathing instead. One. Two. Three. The Brave Rules we taught Ben.
Ben shifts again. This time her eyes crack open. She blinks at Ethan. Then at the room. Then at Marco.
Her face doesn’t change. No tears. No screaming. Just. Blank.
Probably like my own.
“Hey sweet girl,” I say softly. “You okay?”
She nods. Slow. Mechanical.
Ethan sets her down. She stands beside my chair and stares at Marco with those big brown eyes that usually sparkle with questions about snails and pizza dough and whether clouds have feelings.
Now they’re just empty.
“Is Daddy... sleeping?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I pull her closer. Wrap my arm around her waist. She’s still gripping Frederick like a lifeline. “He’s sleeping. The doctors fixed him up and now he needs to rest.”
“When will he wake up?” she asks.
“I don’t know, baby. Soon. Hopefully soon.”
She accepts this with the same blank expression. Then reaches into her pocket and pulls out a sticker. A star. Gold and shiny.
“I love you Daddy,” she says.
She peels the sticker off the backing and presses it carefully to the blanket covering Marco’s chest. Right over his heart.
“There,” she says. “Now he knows I was here.”
My throat closes up completely. I can’t speak.Can’t breathe. Can only watch as she pulls out another sticker. A flower this time. Pink.
She places it next to the star. Then another. A rainbow. Then a snail that makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time because of course Frederick would make an appearance even here.
The stickers keep coming. She covers the blanket in them. Methodical. Focused. Like this is her job and she’s going to do it right.
Ethan and I exchange a look over her head. His eyes are wet.
Mine are, too.
When she runs out of stickers she just stands there. Staring at her work. At the colorful constellation she’s created on top of the white hospital blanket.
“Good job,piccola,” I whisper. Using Marco’s word for her.Ourword, now.
She doesn’t respond. Just keeps staring.
The door opens. A nurse pokes her head in. “Everything okay in here?”
“Fine,” Ethan says. His paramedic voice. Calm and professional. “We’re fine.”
