They crowded my vision. Beau was gone. Clara was gone. I tried to fight then. Very hard.
Because I knew beyond reasonable doubt, I was dying. And the last thing I had to see in this world was my family.
Hands held me down.
I was too weak to speak but still I thrashed. I caught them in the corner of my eye. Beau standing, holding Clara.
“I love you,” I managed to say that out loud. A croak, barely a whisper but I said it.
Darkness crept into my vision. But I held on to Beau and Clara. The last thing I saw when I left this world.
BEAU
I was finally able to sit next to her. Hold her hand.
It was cold.
Too cold.
“She needs more blankets,” I barked at the nurse checking her vitals.
She jumped at my harsh tone, averted her eyes, and nodded before pretty much running out of the room.
I should’ve been sorry for eliciting that response from someone doing what was often a thankless job, someone who devoted their lives to healing people. But I didn’t have it in me.
I was empty, all that was good in me scooped out. All smiles, all kind words. What scraps remained I reserved for my daughter. My scared, traumatized daughter, who had finally cried herself to sleep two hours ago.
In our bed.
Hannah’s and mine.
Where Hannah should’ve been too. Would’ve been, if not for me.
I’d held Clara’s small, fragile body for an hour after she went to sleep, staring at the ceiling, counting my daughter’s breaths. Calliope was at the hospital, had promised me that she’d call me with any updates. My phone was clutched in my hand. She hadn’t called.
No news was good news. No news meant that Hannah was still alive. For now.
She’d died. Right there in the snow. Right after she’d said “I love you” in a horrifying, wet tone. I’d held Hannah to my chest until the EMTs forced her from me so they could begin compressions.
They got her back. Weak pulse, they’d said.
But no promises could be made. She had been shot in the chest.
Calliope was the right person to be with her if I couldn’t. She would make the difficult phone call the second Hannah’s heart stopped beating, knowing I’d need to know. My family might’ve waited a minute, ten, an hour. To preserve my heart, give me more time to be blissfully ignorant of Hannah’s fate.
Good intentions, but it would be something I’d carry with me all my life.
So Calliope was the best choice. I trusted her to be there when I couldn’t.
And my father and brother? I trusted them to be there for my daughter when I was with the woman we loved. The truest mother she’d ever have.
Though I longed for Hannah, it hurt me physically to crawl out of the bed with Clara. I wanted her with me. I wanted to carry her body strapped to mine, like I had so often when she was a baby.
But she didn’t need the trauma of more hospitals. Not after what she went through that day. Not when there was a chance Hannah wouldn’t make it.
I walked through the room that was still ours, even though Hannah had packed up her things last night. Because of me.
I vowed that her clothes would hang in my closet again. There was no other option.
