A couple of minutes later, I went up to Skye’s room in the loft. “Blue,” I called out.
Receiving no answer, I went down to my room on the first floor. Inside, I set the plate of crispy baked chicken nuggets and the glass of Cocochino on my desk. Without calling out, I walked over to my closet. Dropping to my knees, I opened the door enough for just my head to peek inside.
With her favorite pink blanket tucked under her head, her eyes closed, her face flushed with warmth, and the blue rose, I’d had delivered for her birthday a week ago, clasped tightly in one hand, Skye lay on the floor of the closet.
Pain slammed into my chest, and I bawled my fists at the desolation running through my veins. Of all the rooms in the house, I didn’t think she’d choose this place to hide out. Then again, she might’ve been looking for familiarity among a house full of strangers and sadness she wasn’t likely to understand. The first time I’d taught her to play hide and seek, she’d hidden in my closet, thereafter it became her favorite hiding place even if we weren’t playing that game.
“Blue,” I whispered.
Her puffy lids opened before she sat up, pushing her hair off her face. Piercing blue eyes, red-rimmed and sleep-filled stared at me. She looked disorientated for a moment then recognition dawned. “Shay?” Her voice was soft and high pitched as if tears were cresting in her throat.
The haunting sadness staring back at me, expelled the air from my lungs, and I struggled to breathe. Swallowing down my anguish, I opened the door wider and held out my arms. “Come here.”
She crawled onto my lap and rested her head on my chest. “You came.”
“Of course.”
We sat that way for a while, her soft breathing the only sound in the perfect silence. Then she looked up at me and a second later, the tears fell. Biting back my own tears, I held her tightly to my body, murmuring soft soothing words. Her sobs finally lessened into occasional hiccups.
She held up the rose still clutched in her grasp. “Thank you for my flower.” She kissed the soft petals before holding it against her chest.
If I never gave her a gift, Skye didn’t worry. As long as she got her blue rose every year, it was all that mattered to her.
“You know I’ll never forget.” I kissed the top of her head then dragged a hand through her tousled curls. “I know you miss mom, Blue but she’s in heaven now and she’ll watch over us,” I said when she finally stopped sniffling. “But she won’t be happy if you’re not eating,” I gently coaxed.
“How do you know?” she asked quietly.
“Big brothers have a way of knowing,” I lied, begging her to buy my bullshit. “I made your favorite. Chicken nuggets sprinkled with cheese, paprika and dipped in mayo just the way you like them. I also made you a Cocochino.”
The nuggets were one of the first meals Julie made for me. Skye was two when she first snuck one off my plate then finished the whole lot, demanding more. Cocochino was a drink I invented by blending Coco Rice Krispies, hot chocolate, coffee and vanilla ice-cream with milk. Surprisingly, it became Skye’s favorite drink after her first sip from mine. But she’d only drink it if I made it.
“Think you can eat some just to make Mom and your tummy happy?”
“Yes.”
I stood with her in my arms, crossed the room and sat her down at my desk. “Would you like to watch some cartoons while I take a shower?”
At her nod, I switched on the tv, found her favorite cartoons and pushed her food closer to her. I waited until she began eating before I headed for the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, I sat with her on my bed, watching cartoons until a series of yawns stole over her. Wordlessly, she snuggled next to me, keeping one of her hands on my chest, until her eyes began to droop.
After Skye drifted off, I covered her with a blanket and went downstairs. The house was eerily quiet. Nothing like the somber chaos I’d walked into when I arrived two hours ago. Grabbing a beer from the kitchen, I ventured into the living room, my feet immediately carrying me to the framed photos sitting above the fireplace.
My eyes drifted from photo to photo, my smile soft as I recalled eight years of memories captured in a single moment until it stopped at the first photo Julie and I had taken. Just after I blew out the candles on my twelfth birthday cake, she’d snuck up behind me and tapped a spot of chocolate to my nose. I turned my head up to look at her laughing when Dad snapped the shot. Later, Julie called it her favorite photo and had it framed.
Memory of the moment she placed it on the mantlepiece had my tears spilling. I bit down on my bottom lip to curb them, but it didn’t help. In the time she’d been in my life, I’d known only genuine happiness. She’d kept her promise that the baby would never replace her love for me.
“You okay, Shay,” Dad’s soft voice had me swallowing down a swig of beer before I wiped my eyes and turned to look at him. Concern written all over his face, he gestured to the couch. “Want to sit?”
I nodded and dropped into the leather couch as Dad took the seat opposite me. He rubbed the armrest for a bit. “Remember how Julie and I argued about changing the couches in here,” he asked without looking at me.
“Yes,” I choked out a laugh, remembering. “She called our old couches the color of shit.”
Dad chuckled but I detected the strain in his eyes when he looked up. He’d been holding back and I figured it was more for Skye’s sake than his.
Rising, I moved to kneel at his side. “It’s okay to let yourself grieve, Dad. Cry if you have to. You’ve been a rock for me, always. Now, I’m here for you.”
The second the words left my mouth, his tears fell. He dropped his head, resting his eyes on his thumb and forefinger while his shoulders shook with his pent-up grief. I gripped his other hand, squeezing to let him know I was still there. We sat there for a while, his audible sobs a testament to my silent tears until a soft voice had us both looking up.
