“I did,” I say, smiling softly. “Only the best for my favorite girl. Is she in her room?”
“She is. She’s been a bit down these last couple of months. I think she’s missed you.” She passes me a clipboard. “Here, honey, sign on in and then grab what you’d like from the cupboard before you head in.”
“Thanks, Sally. You’re the best.”
She snickers. “Don’t let your momma hear that.”
I sign in, disinfect my hands, and quickly grab my favorite Frozen coloring book along with the new crayons I bought from Halle’s store. Smiling, I make my way to Charlie’s room, offering quick hellos to the nurses as I pass. Today’s theme must be favorite animals, with everyone dressed in puppy and kitten-patterned scrubs. Charlie’s door is covered in snowflakes, and a bright smile forms with the memory of the day we made these. It was a good day, one without any injections, vomiting, or tears. We kicked her dad and brother out and had a girls’ day, with her older sister and mom. We made snowflakes, watched Frozen, and danced to the soundtrack before the exhaustion hit and took over.
Tapping my knuckles lightly on her door, I ease it open and peek my head inside, making sure she’s not sleeping.
Sunlight spills across the bed, catching in her loose golden curls as she flips through a picture book. Her cheeks are fuller, with more color in them, and the tired shadow beneath her ocean eyes has faded. The tension I didn’t realize I was holding unravels in my chest. She looks good. Better. I clear my throat, just loud enough to be heard over the beeping of her monitor, and her head snaps up. The second her eyes find me, her whole face lights up.
“Madi!” she squeals, the book forgotten. “You came back!”
“Hey, Charlie girl.” I grin, stepping inside. “Think you can forgive me for taking so long?”
She scrambles to the edge of the bed and hops down, her sock-covered feet running across the room before she crashes into me, wrapping her arms tight around my legs. Tilting her head back, she beams up at me, curls bouncing.
“Nurse Claire said you’ve been really sad lately,” she says in one breath. “She said you didn’t want me to be sad, too, so you were waiting until you were happy again before you came back. Are you happy again?
My throat tightens. This girl is far too kind, too wise for everything she’s been through in her eight years. Shifting the crayons to my other hand, I tuck the coloring book under my arm and crouch to her level, pulling her close.
“I am much happier now, and I’ve missed you so much. How are you feeling?” I say, brushing a curl off her cheek.
We pull apart, her small hand slipping from mine as we wander back to the bed. I lift her easily, setting her down among the tangle of blankets and plush toys until she wiggles herself into a spot she’s comfortable with. I climb uptoo, tucking my dress beneath me as I sit cross-legged across from her. The rolling table squeaks as I pull it between us.
“Better,” she says proudly, chin tilted high as she reaches for the coloring book. “No more yucky medicine, and Mom says I might get to go home soon.”
“No way.” I smile. “Does that mean we get to throw you a party?”
“Yes!” She bounces. “I want to be Elsa for my party.”
“That’s the best idea ever.”
She flips through the coloring book, tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth in concentration until she lands on a page of Olaf with Elsa. “You color Olaf. You always make him look the bestest.”
I press my hand to my chest. “Of course. How could I say no to that?” I take a crayon from the box and grin. “Then what do you think about breaking out of here and going to scare Nurse Sally?”
Charlie giggles, the sound bright with excitement, and something in my chest eases. Seeing her with this much life and happiness is everything I didn’t know I needed. A reminder that life can still be beautiful, even when it’s been so cruel. That there are people out here still fighting for it. She’s always been brave, fierce in a way that humbles everyone around her. Even on the worst days, when her parents couldn’t fight back the tears, and their smiles trembled in front of her, she would squeeze her teddy a little tighter, straighten her little shoulders, and whisper,“It’s okay, guys. I’m gonna fight like a superhero, just you watch.”Emotion clogs my throat as my gaze drifts over her room. All the arts and crafts we’ve created, the knitted blankets and stuffed toys that line the window ledge. Each piece tells a story, and now she’s going home. She’s fought harder than most adults I know, and she’s finally won.
We color and chat about all the things on Charlie’s to-do list when she gets home—swimming at the lake, eating her favorite cupcakes from Sunlit Espresso, seeing her friends, and finally sleeping in her new big girl bed. Her voice lifts with every word, and she wiggles in excitement when she talks about watching her big sister play volleyball.
She hums softly to a tune that only she can hear as she colors, switching between purple and pink crayons and leaving the blues and greens to me, always the same way. A small smile tugs at my lips. My mind drifts back to the last six months. To the endless days I spent in my own head, moving through life on autopilot, pretending to function while my heart was silently breaking over a man. It’s ridiculous, really. To be so caught up in someone that I forgot how to live. How to laugh with my girls. How to beme.
A slow breath slips out of me. Watching Charlie hum her way through a world that tried to break her causes the shame sitting inside me to twist into something else… something that feels like clarity.
“Can we go scare Nurse Sally now?” Charlie asks, eyes wide with mischief.
I bite back a laugh, pretending to think it over. “Hmm, I think we can… but we have to be super quiet.” I lean in, lowering my voice to a whisper. “We’ll duck down low so she can’t see us coming. Then, when we get around the corner, I’ll lift you, and you’ll give her the bestboo. Sound like a plan?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” She giggles, already wiggling off the bed.
Her energy vibrates through the air as I crouch low, taking her small hand in mine. She squeals softly as we tiptoe down the hall toward the nurses’ station. Every nurse we pass gets a grin from Charlie and an exaggeratedshhfrom me. My heart lifts watching her have so much fun like this.
“Okay, okay,” I whisper, peeking around the wall.
Sally is at her desk, sorting through paperwork, completely unaware. A grin tugs at my lips. I spot Mom across the hall watching us, shaking her head with that half smile that says,You’re a ratbag, but I love you.I bring my finger to my mouth, begging her to stay quiet.
