by B. N. Toler
And it was amazing. He’d told me so a million times this morning. But I’m not tired of hearing it yet. Then turning me, he swats my ass and sends me on my way.
When I climb in the car, Ally’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but it’s Vanessa that starts first. “You look like you’re walking a little funny today, Clara,” she heckles from the backseat.
“Clara got some brown chicken, brown cow,” Ally teases, imitating the classic porno music. That’s her hilarious way of saying, bow chicka wow wow.
They both laugh as I chuckle, my face heating slightly.
“How was it?” Ally asks, her tone indicating her desperation for details. She looks all cute and innocent to the outside world, but she’s really a horny little freak.
I shrug as I put the car in drive. “Pretty damn awesome,” I admit.
“Good for you,” Vanessa laughs.
“I didn’t know it could still be so . . . hot,” I confess.
“What?” Ally questions me, her face scrunched up. “Sex?”
“Well, yeah. It was . . . kind of dirty—in a good way. I kind of thought I’d never have that again.”
“Why?” they both ask in unison.
“I don’t know,” I groan, suddenly feeling embarrassed. I feel like the thirteen-year-old that hasn’t started her period when all her other friends have. “I guess I thought with age and a kid, and . . . I don’t know.”
“So Paul is a super freak . . .” Ally notes with admiration.
Images of him beneath me, watching me, thrusting in and out of me flicker through my mind. Ugh, the sex was amazing. I needed that so badly.
“Judging by the look on her face, definitely,” Vanessa snorts.
Neena and I spend the day watching movies, lounging on the couch. Around four, her phone rings and she goes to the kitchen before she answers. Then she walks back in the living room, phone to her ear.
“You’re here? Right now?” she says, to whomever is on the other end. I sit up and mute the television and watch her as she opens the front door.
It’s Mills.
Mills is here.
Mills that makes my daughter cry.
Great.
“Hi,” she manages as she drops her phone to her side. Her other hand fingers her scalp nervously. She’s not wearing her scarf. The brown fuzz that covers her head is as dark as mine and offers a vast contrast to her pale skin.
“Hi. Sorry to just show up, but . . . I wanted to talk to you and your mom.”
“Mom’s not here,” Neena says.
“But Dad is,” I offer loudly as I stand and approach the door. Mills’ eyes widen slightly and he fidgets a little, shuffling in place.
“Oh, hi, Paul,” he offers. Pushing his bangs from his face, he looks at me. “I hope this is okay. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew I could get them. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to get tickets to Masters of the V. I finally scored some this morning.”
Neena’s eyebrows haven’t fully grown back, but I can tell they’d be touching her hairline if they had. “Really?”
Mills darts his gaze to me, nervously, then back to Neena. “I thought, if your parents were cool with it, maybe you could go.”
Neena lets out some kind of crazy squeal/shriek sound as she grabs my arms and tugs. “Please, Dad! Please let me go.”
I kind of want to throat punch Mills right now. He should have asked me before telling Neena. How in the hell am I supposed to say no to her? But I should. For starters, concerts are loud and busy and people are pushy. Secondly, I’m pretty sure Clara would say no.
“I got a third ticket for you or Clara to go, too,” Mills murmurs.
“How thoughtful,” I counter dryly.
“Pleeeassseee, Dad!” Neena begs. She’s been peppy today. More so than she has in a long time. Today is a good day. Maybe one of the last good days we have.
I’m already leaning toward answering yes when Mills throws out his final card. “I got us backstage passes.”
And . . . we’re going. Clara is not going to like this. Fuck.
I don’t call Clara. My reasoning is nothing is wrong. Neena is fine. She’s happy. And if I call Clara, all it will do is worry her to death while she should be relaxing. Besides, I’m going to be with Neena the entire time. Everything will be fine.
We meet Masters of the V before the show. Zack, the lead singer, who looks like he stuck his finger in an electrical socket this morning, his hair sticks out so much, is actually a pretty cool guy. He gives Neena an autographed poster and the coveted wristband she’s wanted so badly for so long. Neena has not stopped grinning all night.
And Mills, to his credit, has treated her like a queen tonight. I’ve had mixed feeling about the kid. But before we got out of the car to come inside tonight, Neena looked in the visor to adjust the purple scarf around her head. What happened next surprised me.
“You should leave it off, Neena,” Mills said as he leaned forward from the backseat.
“I look awful,” she griped.
“No, you don’t,” he insisted. “I think you look pretty badass without it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s your choice, of course, but I don’t think you need it.”
Neena flipped the visor closed and tugged off her scarf, leaving it on the dash before we climbed out. Mills made her feel cool. He won some major points in my book tonight.
The concert is in full effect and I can’t deny it’s the worst music I’ve ever heard in my life. Neena is dancing and jumping, shouting at the top of her lungs. I bend down so my mouth is to her ear. “Slow down a bit, kid. I don’t want you to tire out.”
“I’m fine,” she yells back.
She doesn’t stop moving for several songs. Then it happens. The band starts playing a song called Promised Land, and Zack dedicates it to Neena.
She loses her mind.
The melody is soft and slow, which keeps Neena from bouncing all over the place for a minute. As he starts singing, she seems to simmer down, really listening to the words. The song is about what lies ahead; the unknown. It’s about someone that’s scared, but never shows it. After the first two verses, I look down and see Neena crying as she smiles. Her hands are clasped together against her chest.
When the song finishes, the next one is upbeat and the crowd starts bouncing around like crazy again. But not Neena. She looks up at me and tugs my shirt so I’ll bend down to hear her. “I need to go home,” she murmurs.
“Okay.” I’m wondering what just happened but there’s no time for that. I tell Mills and together we begin weaving our way through the crowd. Neena is behind me, with Mills behind her.
We’ve just exit the theatre into the lobby when she whimpers, “Dad.” And then she collapses to the floor. I fall, banging my knees against the floor, and shake her a few times, trying to wake her, but get nothing. Instantly, I check her vitals. She’s still breathing. Her heart is still beating.
I toss my keys to Mills. “Get my car. Now!” I boom. Mills hauls ass out to the parking lot. Meanwhile, I scoop Neena up, her frail body limp in my arms, and hold tightly to me. “Not now, princess,” I beg her, my voice raspy as hell as fear seizes me. “Not yet.”
The two-hour drive feels like twenty. When Paul had called, they were on their way to the hospital. He’d been at a concert with Mills and Neena. My heart has been in my throat ever since. She went unconscious. Paul said she’d passed out cold. That hasn’t happened before. Ally, who’s driving us back because I’m a wreck, drops me at the entrance and I rush in while they park the car. Paul is in the lobby of the oncology floor, his head buried in his hands. Marcus is sitting beside him, passed out.
“Where is she?” I snap. His head flies up, his red and glossy eyes now alert.
“Clara?”
“Where?” I growl. I want to attack him, rip him apart with my bare hands. I left him with her for one night and this happens. How could he even think about taking her to a concert? Is he demented?
“She woke up,” he tells me. “But she’s sleeping again. She overexerted herself.”
“No fucking kidding, Paul!” I shout. “You took her to a goddamn concert!”
People passing by us in the hallway stop and stare at us before continuing on their way. “Clara,” Marcus intervenes, stepping in front of me. “The doctor said it could have happened regardless of the concert or not.”
“You should have called and asked me first!” I yell at Paul, ignoring Marcus.
“It came together at the last minute. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. She was so . . . happy,” Paul explains.
I let out a frustrated groan. “I should have known better than to leave her overnight with you.”
Paul’s face contorts from guilt to anger. “And what the hell does that mean?”
“It means that I shouldn’t have trusted you!”
“Guys,” Marcus says, as calmly as he can.
“Are you serious?” Paul booms.
“You two need to quiet down or we’re going to have to call security,” a nurse tells us.
“You could have said no, Paul. But nooooo,” I rant dramatically, flailing my hands. “Saying no might make Neena upset with you. God forbid.”
“You’re right, Clara,” he mocks me. “I should have denied her a chance to meet her favorite singer and see her favorite band in concert. Because every dying kid wants to sit at home knowing they missed a chance to do something they could have. You might be that big of an asshole, but not me.”
“Oh, you’re an asshole, all right,” I assure him.
By this point, my friends have walked in to see the show. “Clara.” Vanessa says my name, calmly, as she grabs my arms.
I pull free ignoring the stunned looks both she and Ally make. “Maybe we should take her hiking in Brazil,” I jeer sarcastically. “Why not? She can handle it.”
Paul groans in obvious frustration. “This is why she can’t tell you anything,” he spats. “You’re so over the top.”
“Neena tells me everything,” I say, with offense.
“Oh yeah?” he questions, stepping toward me so I have to look up to meet his line of sight. “Did she tell you how she wants her funeral?”
I pinch my lips together. Neena told me once she wanted to be cremated. I hated that thought. I couldn’t imagine not having a place to visit her. Burning her remains seemed so final. I just . . . couldn’t talk about it. I ended up crying and she never brought it back up.
“No? And why is that? Because you lose your shit over everything. I took her to a concert tonight. She was more alive and happy than I’ve seen her in months. So screw you if you want to make me out to be a bad parent, but I’m not sorry I took her.”
“If you want to risk your own life doing dangerous shit, Paul, that’s on you.” I point a firm finger at him. “But not her. You do not take chances with her!”
He stands straight and shakes his head as if I’m the most ridiculous person he’s ever spoken with. “Clara,” his tone is filled with angered calmness. “She’s dying. I wanted her to live for a night. Really live. I didn’t put her on a motorcycle. I didn’t take her bungee jumping. I took my kid to a concert. Something any parent with a normal and healthy kid would do and not think twice about it.”
“You put her at risk!”
“And so what if I did! You ask her if she regrets it. Even now, with how shitty she feels, you ask her if she regrets going to that concert. You know what she’ll say?” he growls. “No. Because she did something that made her happy; that made her feel alive. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“What does that mean?”
“You own a fucking skydiving business and you’ve never even jumped. Thirteen years and you haven’t jumped once. Just because you don’t take chances because you’re always playing it safe doesn’t mean our daughter is that way. Neena knows how precious time is. She doesn’t want to lie in bed for all of her last days afraid to go out and do what she wants.” With that, he storms off down the hall.
Vanessa squeezes me. “He’s just upset.”
Now it’s Marcus’ turn to look up at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I sniffle. “Where is she?”
Marcus takes me to her room. Neena looks so tiny in the big hospital bed. She’s got tubing in her nose for oxygen and an IV for fluids. She doesn’t wake as I sit on her bed and take her hand in mine.
“Mommy’s here, baby,” I whisper. “Mommy’s here.”
Our days are numbered with her. The doctor says when it’s time, we’ll know. We brought her home earlier today and got her comfortable. Clara and I have played nice for her sake, but I think she can tell. While we got Neena home and situated, Marcus and Mei-ling took Ally and Vanessa to the airport. The two were in a mess of tears when they left. For them . . . this will be the last time they see Neena.
When they approached Neena to say good-bye, they couldn’t hide their emotions. Vanessa leaned in and kissed her forehead. She whispered a prayer for Neena before she stood, wiping her face. Neena gave the best smile she could. My little girl . . . always trying to stay strong for everyone else. “I love you, stink.” Stink was short for stinker . . . a nickname she’d apparently given Neena years ago.
“I love you, too,” Neena told her.
“Neena,” Ally whispered as she took Neena’s hand. “You are in my heart, always.”
Neena took Ally’s hand and pressed the back of it against her cheek. “You’re in mine, too.”
When they finished with their good-byes, Clara walked them out. It was a harsh reality. No one wants to see a child die. The three mothers stood on the porch, hugging for a long time as they all cried.
We’ve been home a few hours and Clara is tucking Neena in while I put on the television for her.
“I want you to finish the story. I want to see it,” she whispers. Her exhaustion is more apparent than ever.
Clara’s eyes water and she inhales and lets it out softly. “We need to be here with you, Neena. That’s what we want.”
“Please finish it. Please.”
Clara looks to me, her once trembling lips now in a tight, flat line. I hate that we’re fighting, but I hate that she blames me for this even more. I just want Neena to be happy. Didn’t we agree to making her last days happy?
“We will, princess,” I volunteer. “I’ll call Ashley right now.”
When I explain to Ashley we’re running out of time if we want Neena to see this video, she needs to kick the interviews into high gear. No more small talk.
Ashley understands and the next time we meet she gets right to the point.
“Clara kissed you, when she brought you food after Sap passed away. Want to pick up from there?”
When I had kissed Clara for the first time, it really messed with my head. I liked kissing her. I liked kissing her way more than I cared to admit. That kiss made me imagine things . . . things that involved maybe staying put, settling down. But that was fucking crazy. It was a kiss. One kiss. I went home that night and paced the floors, trying not to think about it. She was so soft. She smelled so good. She was getting to me. Fuck. That was it. I had to leave—at least for a little while to clear my head. So I packed a bag and booked a flight. I was gone.
But being away didn’t keep me from thinking about her. I couldn’t stop. I made it a month before I returned. I told myself I was only going home because my mother would be moving soon and I wanted to see her before she left. She did move, about a week after Sap passed away. Maybe her moving was part of it. But not really. I came back to see Clara. I’d hoped time apart would break the spell. But nope.
Sap passing away was hard. He was a dear friend. And when Clara showed up with that shitty casserole, I think that was when I realized this woman was it. I didn’t want to admit that to myself, but it was that moment. I know it. But I told myself she wasn’t into me—not like that. Sure she had let me kiss her, but I’d kind of made her. She definitely didn’t like me
, or so I thought.
Until she kissed me.
On my porch.
While I was in my underwear.
It was a mess. She practically clobbered me. She botched it. But only at first. Once I caught myself and knew we wouldn’t topple to the ground, she owned it.
I didn’t speak to her for a few days until I went back to work. She acted like nothing had happened. We were back to Paul and Clara, business partners. That drove me fucking nuts. But I went with it. If she could be cool, so could I. We’d hired a new pilot and he was doing a few practice runs with me and the other divers. It was just a simple day—nothing special. That’s what I thought when I dove out of the plane.
Then my chute didn’t open.
It’s not the first time it had happened, but it was still scary as fuck. Luckily, my emergency chute saved the day, and I landed safely, but my adrenaline was through the roof. I needed a release. The sun was just about to set when I made it to my truck after landing. I’d driven separately from the others and when I passed the office, I noticed Clara had left Marcus to close up. Her car wasn’t in the lot. The two had started an unspoken trade-off, where one stayed and the other left in the afternoons. The less they had to see one another, the less they fought.
I didn’t even bother to stop at the office. I kept telling myself to go home or go grab a beer somewhere, find a woman, any woman other than Clara, that lacked inhibitions and scratch my itch. I told myself that over and over, right up until I pulled in Clara’s driveway and cut my truck off. Even as I climbed the stairs to her porch, I told myself what a horrible idea this was. I begged myself to turn around. But I didn’t. I was never one to listen to the voice of reason. Where’s the fun in that?
I knocked on the door a few times, but there was no answer. Her car was in the driveway though. She was definitely home. I trudged down the steps and rounded the house, making my way to the back yard. If she was here, I was going to see her. It was almost dark, but there was enough light to see where I was walking. The sound of a radio played softly as I turned into the backyard.
