ButIsaac...
He wants my color. He wants to take our hours and turn them into a life together. He's not afraid of myintensity.
It’s not until I’m in my car and driving again that I realizesomething.
Broken people loveharder.
So why does Isaac love the way hedoes?
Four daysafter he was found, John was discharged from the hospital with instructions to rest. Aubrey is finally back at work after taking the week off to be at the hospital and then help him settle in at home. I don’t say anything to Aubrey about it, but I think Nurse Cheryl will be making some house calls. John morphed into a witty, personable man every time Cheryl came into his room, and she seemed just as smitten. I’m a big believer in fated outcomes, and both Aubrey and John finding love in a hospital isn’t acoincidence.
We’ve all been working together to take care of Claire so Aubrey can be with John. At first she balked, unsure of what to do with a team of people ready to help her, but then she accepted the help without too much of a fight. This is a win for me, because just two weeks ago she would’ve insisted she was fine doing it all on herown.
On Monday night when she came home from visiting John, she told me about hermom.
Aubrey’s face doesn’t show much emotion, but if I keep my focus on her eyes, I can see it all, swimming just beneath thesurface.
I saw her confusion and herpain.
I saw her choice and what it cost her to makeit.
I know she still wonders, even if she doesn’t admit it, about the reasonswhy.
And I know she feelsalone.
That’s why I’m taking her there today. Because she’s not alone, and she needs to knowthat.
Aubrey needs to know my ugly truth. She deserves to know why I was really at the bar the night wemet.
And now, with my mom’s blessing, Aubrey’s going to understand how we’re more alike than she could’ve everimagined.
Claire and I are waiting for her to come home. Last night Aubrey cooked a week of meals and this morning she took them over to John’shouse.
I’ve been keeping Claire busy all morning. I need her to fall asleep in the car this afternoon. I’ve just set her up with a smock and laid out her watercolor paint set when Aubrey opens the frontdoor.
“Mommy!” Claire runs for her like it has been days and not hours since she last sawher.
Aubrey opens her arms. She doesn’t check to see if Claire has paint on her. She takes her and holds her tight. She buries her face in herhair.
“I love you so much,Claire.”
“Mommy, why are youcrying?”
Aubrey pulls back but keeps her arms on Claire’s shoulders. She smiles through her tears, brushes Claire’s hair from her face. “You’re very special. That’s all. And sometimes knowing that overwhelmsme.”
She stands and walks to me. Physically, Aubrey’s the same, but emotionally she’s different. Maybe it’s her energy. She’s looser, calmer. Open. Less like steel and more likesilk.
She puts her hand on my chest. “That goes for you, too. You’re special. And it overwhelmsme.”
I know how hard this is for her. How every word of love fights its way out of her. Declarations come as naturally to her as allowing herself to feel at all. That’s what makes every word she uttersmeaningful.
It makes what I’m taking her to see today even moreimportant.
Lifting her hand from my chest, I kiss her bent fingers. “I need to show yousomething.”
She gives me a confused smile. “OK.”
I turn to Claire. “Can we save the painting for anotherday?”
