“I will,” I promise before disconnecting the call. I close my eyes, just for a moment. Long enough to connect with my body, to remind myself where I am and what’s important.
“Bea?”
My eyes pop open at Natalia’s tiny call. I cross the room when she sits up, eyes bleary and looking for me. I slide in next to her, opening to allow her to crawl into my lap. She clutches Floppy and Nicky’s sweatshirt as she tucks under my chin.
“Is Daddy awake yet?” she asks, a powerful yawn shaking her frame.
“Not yet, little love,” I tell her. I squeeze her close for a beat, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But it’s okay to go talk to him. You can hold his hand and sit with him.”
“Like he does when I don’t feel good?”
“Exactly like that.” I smile at her. It was a general suggestion, but I’m not surprised to hear it’s what Nicky does when Nat is poorly. I help Natalia rearrange herself so I can stand with her in my arms, wrapped tightly around my waist and neck. Together, we move to Nicky’s bedside, and not for the first time, I question whether I know what I’m doing. The last few days have been a crash course of parenting skills I didn’t know I had, supported by people I love and respect. But without Nicky’s quiet reassurances, I still feel lost. Every decision I make is with Natalia in mind.
Cal came over the morning after the game to tell Natalia what happened in the gentlest way he could. I was the soft place to land for a heartbroken and scared little girl. I’ve worked hard to be that every minute since.
I’ve kept her routine intact; school, afterschool enrichments, dinner, and bedtime, all the same, and learned through Ms. Margaret and my own time spent with Nat. Everyone agreed with me that, unless Nicky’s condition worsened, we would wait to bring her to the hospital until the medical team woke him up. At five years old,knowingandseeingwould create very different reactions in her. So we waited until today.
“Daddy,” Natalia whispers when I sit her on the edge of the bed next to Nicky’s hip. I bite the inside of my cheek, my heart fracturing at the careful, quiet way she says it. Her small hand reaches hesitantly to wrap around her father’s larger one. “You’re going to be okay. Bea and I are going to take care of you. Have sweet dreams.”
It’s simple and full of conviction. A genuine imitation of what has been modeled for her when she’s sick. My breathing grows heavy as I work to choke back the emotion thickening in my throat. A tear breaks free when Natalia lifts Floppy and places the pink bunny in the cradle of Nicky’s arm.
“I’ve hugged Floppy a lot,” Natalia tells him. “Now you can feel all of them and get better.”
Nicky’s eyelids flutter, the number on his heart monitor kicking up a little as he struggles to reach consciousness. One blue eye cracks open, looking slightly unfocused, followed by the other. Sleepy and uncertain, Nicky’s lips part.
“Milaya?”he manages in a hoarse whisper.
With more delicacy than I thought possible for a child of her age, Natalia carefully leans forward to lie on her father’s chest, her arms wrapping him in as close to a hug as possible. Over her head, Nicky’s eyes lock on mine. For a long moment, we simply stare at each other, the space filling and emptying with unspoken attempts at words; neither of us knowing what to say. Then Nicky breaks the silence again, his mouth stretching into a lazy smile.
“Hello,solnyshka.”
“Bea, do we have to go?”Natalia asks, a frown transforming her entire face.
“We do,” I reply, crouching to look her in the eye. “Daddy needs a lot of rest. I promise we’ll come back in the morning.”
“All right.” Natalia walks over to Nicky’s side, leaning across him to give a goodbye hug. He fell asleep an hour ago, afterthe nurse came in to check on him. She was impressed he had managed to stay awake for almost as long, listening more than talking, as Natalia filled him in on the days he had missed. She presses a kiss to his arm and comes back to me, hand reaching for mine with a quivering lip and tear-filled eyes.
“Oh, little love.” I sigh, quickly stooping to scoop her into my arms. She’s long-limbed, like Nicky, but light and easy to hold, especially when she begins to cry into my neck. I walk quickly from the hospital room, soothing her as best I can, ensuring Floppy is tucked between us. We snake through hallways and down an elevator before she finally calms. Tiny hiccups and loud, snotty snuffles are the only signs of her breakdown when we reach the parking structure. With ease, I buckle her into the backseat of my car and head for the house. For the first few miles, Natalia merely snuggles Floppy, soaking up the comfort she needs from her favorite stuffy. I keep the music light and don’t force a conversation.
When we’re closer to the house, I cautiously get her attention. “Some of the boys from Daddy’s team are coming over for dinner and bedtime stories. Won’t that be nice?”
I check the rearview mirror to see Natalia’s face flicker with interest. The team has been in near-constant contact with me. They won their home game last night—the first they’ve played since Nicky’s accident. They’ll travel tomorrow for two road games and four days away. Other than Cal and Violet, the team has kept a respectful distance. But I thought a visit from the usual group would be a good way to lift Natalia’s spirit after a day of such uncertainty. They jumped at the invite.
“Bonesy?” Natalia ventures, her eyes connecting with mine as we sit at a red light. I nod. “Gus-Gus? Crosby? Papa Cal?”
“And Obie, Leo, and Violet,” I finish. “I think they’re bringing cheeseburgers,” I add conspiratorially, pleased when Natalia smiles. I check my phone in the cupholder, confirming the crewhas arrived. I pull onto the street, my own smile spreading when I see familiar cars lining the curb. “There they are.”
People begin to exit vehicles as I pull up the driveway, parking the car and getting Natalia out as quickly as possible. Violet reaches me first, her warm, familiar embrace a welcome greeting after a hard afternoon. A giggle sounds from the left; Natalia’s been hoisted onto Charlie’s back, and he bounces her gently as the entire group moves toward the front door.
Charlie punches in his own code to gain entrance, a small bottleneck forming in the entry as everyone ditches their shoes and coats before moving deeper into the house. Crosby and Obie head directly for the kitchen, paper bags of burgers and fries in their clutches, Leo following to help. Cal stops in front of me, a warm, paternal gaze cataloging my face with shrewd awareness. But he doesn’t ask, doesn’t push. He just holds my shoulders, squeezing gently. “You’re doing a great job, Bea. But it’s okay if it’s hard,” he tells me. I drink in his reassurance and strength for half a moment as Violet and Gus pass us to follow Natalia’s chatter and Charlie’s deep replies.
“Thanks for coming, Cal,” I say instead of agreeing. “And for getting the guys together.”
He just offers a nod, giving me a hug and wandering into Nicky’s house after the others. Alone in the entryway, I take a moment to breathe deeply. Maybe for the first time since it happened.
It’s a mistake.
The foundation of reliability, strength, and responsibility I’ve projected for three days turns to sand underneath me.
