“Of course she did.”
I laughed. “Yes, she’s your child, so things came easily to her. But soon she was her own person, and I thought less about what her name meant and more about her individuality. She’s a beautiful soul, different from me and you.”
“I know that. I knew it the moment I met her,” he whispered. “Was Dan’s death hard on her?”
“She was strong, but I knew it was hard on her. He was a good, patient dad, and he loved her more than anything. I was grateful that we had a little time to prepare for it. We took a trip and stayed in a beach house in Cape Cod for a month. That’s where he died, listening to the ocean, with me and Ash by his side. He spent his last days sitting in a chair, watching us play on the beach. At night, we would make a bonfire and Ash would read us stories in the firelight. Dan seemed happy, even though he knew he didn’t have much time left.” I started to cry.
Matt moved up the bed and took me in his arms. “Keep going.”
“It was a Tuesday when he died, just a boring old Tuesday. He was lucid in the morning. We had moved his hospital bed onto the back patio so he could look out on the water. A hospice worker was there. We wrapped ourselves in blankets and watched the waves crashing down as Dan took his last breaths. Ash cried for a few minutes, and that was it. It was over. I never saw her cry about it again.”
“And you?”
“Well, you know me. I’m pretty much a blubbering mess all the time.”
“You didn’t used to be.”
“I know,” I said quietly.
Matt brushed my hair back and wiped tears from my cheeks. “Why didn’t you have more children?”
“We thought we might, but then Dan got sick and it just didn’t make sense. Ash would have been such a good big sister.”
“Yes, she would be,” he said drowsily.
We fell asleep in the early-morning hours. I got a text from Tati around eleven saying that she and Ash were going to lunch and then she would be taking her home. I quietly snuck out of Matt’s and made sure I was home before Ash got there.
Neither of us texted or called for days after that.
25.Come Back to Me
GRACE
Over the next week, Ash got into the habit of making plans with her dad and not telling me. When I would scold her for it, she would say, “Parents are supposed to communicate with each other. Even nonmarried ones.”
That was Ash, always being the grown-up.
I knew Matt and I couldn’t go on like this, conflicted and torn. We deserved more from each other, but I wasn’t sure if either of us was ready.
Finally, one afternoon, Matt came by to pick up Ash. I answered the door and invited him in. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching me as I dried the dishes.
“How are you?” he asked, a little formally but not uncomfortably.
“Good. I’ve been practicing with the Philharmonic after school. I might be sitting in for their cellist, actually, but I would have to leave for two weeks in the summer. I’m not sure if I want to leave Ash behind for that long.”
“That’s fantastic, Grace. I could take Ash; maybe we could plan a trip to California for then.”
Ash called down from upstairs, “Give me five minutes, Dad!”
“Okay,” he called back.
“Where are you guys off to?” I asked without looking up.
“We’re going to the Met and then dinner.”
I glanced at the clock; it was five fifteen. “You’ll never make it up there before it closes.”
“They’re open till nine on Fridays.”
