Desperately Seeking Epic

by B. N. Toler

  “I’m pregnant.”

  He blinked a few times, his mouth pressing into a hard, flat line. “Does Paul know?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Have you tried contacting him?”

  “I’ve emailed him. I left a message with Mateo stating it was an urgent matter that I spoke with him. But I haven’t heard back.”

  “Are you going to keep it?” he asked gingerly.

  I placed my hand on my belly, my mouth quirking up slightly. “Definitely.”

  When I lifted my gaze to meet his again, he let out a long sigh. Moving his gaze to the ceiling he let out a loud groan. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he mumbled to himself. Lowering his head, he said, “I’ll stay if you lift the prank ban,” he bartered.

  “No.” There was no way in hell I’d ever agree to that.

  “You have to give somewhere, Clara,” he argued.

  I rolled my eyes. “No,” I affirmed.

  He shrugged and began to slip out of his seat. “Well, good luck to you,” he chirped. I gritted my teeth. He knew he had me.

  “Fine,” I seethed. “Once a month.”

  “Five a month,” he replied.

  “Two.”

  “Three,” he offered firmly. “And that’s my final offer.”

  I chuckled a little even though he was frustrating as hell. “Fine. Three.”

  He slid out of his chair and rounded the desk, extending his hand. “Truce.”

  I took it and we shook. “Truce.”

  It’s funny how fast things changed between us. I confided in him as to why Dennis left me half of the business, and wished I’d done it sooner. Marcus seemed so . . . at peace when he discovered the truth. Slowly, we built trust between us and became friends. The night I signed my divorce papers from Kurt, he took me out for an all you can eat buffet and ice cream. He knew how to celebrate with a pregnant lady. He actually became my best friend. To this day, Marcus is my best friend. He was there the day Neena was born; the first to hold her after me. He taught her how to ride a bike. He was her friend, her playmate. He was there the day she was diagnosed. He’s been a rock for us. And I will forever be grateful for him.

  Ashley smiles as she closes her notebook.

  “Well, you know everything now, I guess.”

  “Marcus sounds like a pretty amazing dude.”

  “He is,” I agree.

  “I think that’s it then,” she sighs. “We have a lot of footage to go through.”

  “You’ll make it tasteful?” I question again, in a way that implies she damn well better make it tasteful.

  “Yes, yes,” she chuckles. “I promise.”

  I stand and stretch.

  “We’ll try to get this ready in the next few days. So Neena can see it.”

  “I appreciate that.” I give a small wave and head toward the door. One quick once-over of the office and I’m out of here.

  “Clara,” she says my name, causing me to turn. “I know Paul was the adventurer . . . the fearless risk-taker. I know they joked about how you never jumped, but if you think about it . . . you did.”

  I smirk, unsure of what she means.

  “You left your home and moved to a different state, taking on a job you knew nothing about. You bought a house on your own; fixed it mostly on your own. You had a baby as a single woman. It may not be jumping out of planes, but it sounds like one hell of an adventure to me.” She gives an appreciative smirk. “You’re pretty badass, Clara.”

  I grin. “I guess that’s one way to look at it. Thanks, Ashley.”

  With another wave, I’m out the door.

  We’re waiting on Ashley and her crew to arrive. Ashley called yesterday and said the tape was ready. Clara is upstairs taking a shower and I’m lying beside Neena on her bed, thumb wrestling. She’s so weak, she can barely play, but she still tries. I let her win anyway.

  “Dad.”

  “Yeah, kid?” I answer.

  “Do you believe in heaven?”

  Her question stuns me for a moment. Lacing my fingers together over my chest, I let out a long breath. “I want to believe in heaven,” I admit. “What about you, kid?”

  She stares up at the ceiling. “I think . . . this can’t be it. There has to be more.” Turning her head, she looks at me. “I don’t want to not exist anymore.”

  Damn. Her statement gets to me. This kid knows how to get my heart twisted. “I don’t want you to not exist anymore either, Neena.”

  “Maybe it’s like a dream,” she muses. “Maybe if I just imagine it, it will be so.”

  I smile sadly. Taking her tiny, frail hand in mine, I lace our fingers together. Her skin is cool against mine. “Will you tell me what you see?”

  She smiles. “Okay. Close your eyes.”

  I do as she says and she shimmies closer, resting her head against my shoulder. “I see a beach with sand that’s almost white. It feels soft under my feet. The water is blue, but you can see to bottom of the ocean it’s so clear. I want there to be color. Maybe the sky will have that glow just after sunset, ya know, when it’s orange and red.”

  My eyes are still closed but I smile. I know exactly what she means. “That’s perfect, princess.”

  “Mom would be there. And she’d be laughing. Like really laughing. Her hair would be blowing in the breeze and she’d take my hand and point up to the sky at you.”

  “Me?” I question.

  She huffs a tired laugh. “You would have just dived out of a plane and you’d be drifting toward us, your chute open. When you land, you’d walk toward us, smiling. You’d kiss mom and she’d grin.”

  “That sounds amazing, Neena,” I admit, my voice becoming husky with emotion. And I grip her hand tighter. “What else?”

  She sighs. “I’d have hair again. Long hair. I wouldn’t be so tired. And I’d look healthy and happy. Marcus and Mei-ling would be there, too.” She lets out a small giggle. “Marcus would let me bury him in the sand like he did when I was little.”

  I chuckle. “I’m sure he would.”

  “That’s my heaven.”

  Squeezing her hand, I turn my head and kiss her temple. “That’s where I’ll see you, Neena,” I manage. “On that beach, with an orange-red sky and blue water.”

  “And I’ll have hair,” she reminds me.

  “Yes,” I agree.

  “And boobs,” she adds.

  I nearly choke with her words. “I’m not sure I want to imagine you with those.”

  “I don’t want to look like I’m twelve for all eternity, Dad,” she comments dryly.

  “How about I imagine you matured?” I offer. “Let’s not focus on any particular body parts.”

  “That’s fair.”

  A few minutes later, her breathing slows as she drifts off to sleep, her head resting against me and try as I may, I can’t stop the tear that trickles down my cheek.

  Ashley, Zane, and Mills have just left. Marcus, Paul, and I walked them out, said our good-byes, and hugged them for their hard work. The tape was beautiful. They made two, one that gave a brief summary of our story that they intend to share with the public, and one just for us.

  Hearing Paul tell his side of the story was hard, but it was an eye-opening experience as well. Some parts made me tear up, others made me laugh. Neena couldn’t look away. She was absorbing every detail. As the kids left, we promised to call if we needed anything. Neena requested this be the last time they visit before she passes. She didn’t want them to remember her at her worst.

  Ashley, normally hard as stone, was weeping. Saying good-bye to Neena was hard for her, maybe harder than she imagined it would be. As for Mills, when he said good-bye, he held Neena’s hand, bent down, and whispered something in her ear, before kissing her cheek. He’s a sweet kid. Zane was chewing on his nails and squeezed her hand and gave a casual good-bye. I could tell he just didn’t know what to say. What can you really say in these situations?

  Marcus goes back inside as Paul and I watch their
van drive off. The day is warm; summer is on its way. The dogwood in my front yard is starting to bloom. I planted that tree the year Neena was born. It’s on the verge of blossoming again this year, coming to life and sharing its color, while our daughter is wilting before our very eyes. My gaze moves to Paul’s and he gives me a sideways smirk. “I’m sorry I left you the way I did. I’m sorry I left you at all. And even though you’re mad at me right now, I’m not leaving you this time, Clara. I swear it.”

  I know being angry with him is unfair. He didn’t mean for that night at the concert to end the way it did. Stepping toward him, I let my head thump against his chest. “I don’t think I can do this, Paul. I don’t know how to let her go.”

  His hands rub my back as his chin rests on my head. “I wish we had a choice in that, Clara.”

  The front door opens, and Marcus steps outside, sniffling, his little fingers wiping under his eyes.

  “You okay?”

  He shakes his head no. “When we first found out Paul wasn’t a match, and we knew we had limited time, Neena told me not to say good-bye to her.” He sucks in a ragged breath. “I asked her when she thought it was almost time, to give me a day with her. One last day to hang.” His glazed eyes look up to mine. “She asked me for that day. Tomorrow.”

  My throat feels like it’s closing. Paul’s head drops and we all stand silent for a moment.

  “I’ll be here bright and early,” Marcus tells us. I bend down and hug him before he leaves.

  Paul takes my hand and laces our fingers together as we watch him go. He doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. All we can do now is pull strength from one another and hope it’s enough to get us through.

  It has to be.

  Clara spent the night on the couch last night, while I took the bed. But I was restless all night. After tossing and turning for hours, around five in the morning, I climb out of bed, deciding sleep is hopeless. I creep down the stairs where Clara is passed out on the sofa, one arm dangling over the side. But Neena’s bed is empty. I hear something scratching that sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. Following it, I find her in the kitchen, seated at the table with a giant butcher’s knife.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss in fear, making her jump. She drops the knife on the table. “Are you okay?” I ask, calming myself.

  “I’m fine,” she manages, her tone breathless.

  When I flip on the light, she winces. “Sorry, princess.” The table has wood dust on it, in the center. I give her a questioning look.

  “I wanted to carve my name in the table, too. I guess I should have asked first.”

  Instantly, I smile and pick up the knife. “I think that’s a great idea, let’s just get a smaller knife.” I find another knife and hand it to her and she returns to her mission. She’s biting her lip as she works; focused. I make a pot of coffee and by the time it’s finished brewing, she’s done. She swipes her hand across the engraving and smiles.

  She put her name underneath mine, but in bigger letters.

  “Trying to show me up, huh?” I jest as I lean down and kiss the top of her head.

  “Life’s too short to be subtle,” she pipes back.

  She got that from the video Ashley made. She’s quoting me.

  “That is true, princess.” I frown. Life is too short.

  Neena and Marcus spend the day together. I try to keep my distance, allowing them space. Marcus is someone to Neena I could never be. He’s always been around. He’s a father figure and friend, all wrapped into one. He’s seen a million precious moments; possesses a million memories of her life. I want to hate him for that. But I can’t. He stepped up when I wasn’t around. Neena is the amazing kid she is because Marcus played a role in her life. I’m grateful he stayed and helped Clara. In the afternoon, he helps Neena go outside and they sit on the top porch step together, Neena is leaning against him as they chat. Clara and I check on them a few times as they talk softly. After a while, he brings her back inside and tucks her in, kissing her forehead.

  “Later, alligator,” he says, his voice husky.

  “After a while, crocodile,” Neena murmurs back, her smile faint and sad. It’s not good-bye.

  It’s see you later.

  It’s until we meet again.

  That’s how Neena wants it.

  My own throat starts to work overtime, swallowing uncomfortably many times over. Marcus is struggling to keep it together. His lip trembles slightly as he takes her hand and kisses it before he turns and walks out the front door without another word. I feel for him. I really do. This is not easy on any one of us. Clara follows him to make sure he’s okay while I sit on Neena’s bed and pat her leg. She’s curled up on her side, her blanket pulled up just beneath her chin. Her expression is hard to gauge as she stares at nothing. My little girl looks sad. Sad and tired. But too tired to cry. A disconsolate pang clutches at my chest. For all intents and purposes, Marcus is her best friend, and they just spent what they assume will be their last good day together. I can see how it hurts her no matter how tough she tries to act.

  “I love you, kid,” I tell her. “I’m with you.” I just want her to know she’s not alone. That although I can’t carry this burden for her—no matter how much I want to—I’m here. She’s not alone.

  Two days have passed since Marcus left our home in tears. He’s been silent ever since then. I don’t blame him. He was a wreck. Watching him fight back tears at times and falling apart was so damn hard. It’s odd how much hurt there is to experience through all of this. Some days, I don’t know if I can endure the agony. It’s an endless abyss. True torture. I hurt and silently pray for Neena; my beautiful little girl who lies in bed waiting for her own demise. Seeing her rapidly deteriorate, how she struggles, is an immeasurable cycle of torment. The immense pain reaches from the depths of my soul, leaving me in a constant state of utter sadness. I hurt for Paul. My heart goes out to him. He’s the father that’s only getting a taste of just how amazing she truly is. His window has been incredibly small. Having her ripped from him is his worst nightmare come true. He holds it together for my sake, but I know he’s hurting badly. And Marcus. How do I ever repay this man for what he’s done for me? For helping me raise my little girl? I hurt for him; for his kind heart. He’s the man that’s never had to love her—that didn’t have to be there for her all along—but he’s loved her like she’s his own. My heart races every time I watch her. I’d gladly lay down my own life so she could keep hers. God wouldn’t mind if there’s one more angel down here on Earth. She’s mine, and I simply don’t want to let her go.

  The amount of inconsolable hurt is inconceivable.

  I gaze at her now. She’s beautiful and angelic. Her porcelain exterior is accented with tiny lashes. She’s resting a lot these days. Her breathing has started to become labored, mostly when she sleeps. But even when she’s awake, with each breath she takes, she makes a raspy, almost choking sound. Her chest moves up and down wildly, like someone is pumping air into her, then sucks it right back out. Last night she was restless, moaning quietly in her sleep, mumbling gibberish. When I asked her what she needed, her sleepy gaze met mine, but her eyes seemed empty. She’s been taking pain pills, but now we’ve moved onto a schedule. It hasn’t been easy. But she needs medication every few hours to keep her somewhat comfortable.

  Crawling in bed, I lie on my side beside her. I trace my finger from her forehead down the bridge of her nose and back up again. It’s something I used to do when she was little to help her sleep. Her skin is so pale it’s breaking my heart. Her eyes remain closed, but her lids flutter lightly at my touch, and her mouth quirks ever so slightly before she reaches up and takes my hand, pressing it to her chest.

  Slowly, she darts her tongue out over her blueish, chapped lips, smacking them together. Her mouth is always so dry. It wasn’t always like this. I remember it like it was yesterday, her pink mouth pouting, making sleepy, cooing sounds, her dark lashes fluttering against her fair baby skin. Back when c
ancer was the furthest thing from my mind. Back when I dreamed a life so big and beautiful for her, full of endless happiness. She was going to rule the world as far as I was concerned.

  I never would have imagined my vibrant, colorful child would be reduced to this. She’s barely eating now, some broth here and there, and only drinking little sips of water. It’s all I can get her to swallow.

  As I stare at her, I’m so overwhelmingly sad I can barely breathe. I’d do anything for her. Anything. The argument Paul and I had in the hospital has been weighing heavily on me. I’ve hated that he was right. I’ve hated that I made Neena feel like she couldn’t tell me things; ask me for things. She’s been so brave through all of this; she’s accepted her fate like a soldier, brave and fearless. She’s had no control over any of this, yet she hasn’t complained once. All she wants is control in what happens when she passes.

  “Neena.” I whisper her name.

  Gingerly, she turns her head to acknowledge me, but not all the way. She’s so tired she can’t seem to open her eyes.

  “I’ll do whatever you want, baby.” I swallow hard. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll make sure it happens exactly how you want it. I’m so sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me and tell me your wishes. I should have listened to you, and I’m sorry I didn’t.” I sniffle as the tears stream down my face. Scooting closer to her, I press my forehead to the side of her head.

  She swallows with difficulty, her throat dry. “Just do what Dad says,” she murmurs. I nod my head yes so she can feel my answer.

  I’ve been waiting for a moment; a time where it felt right to have that one last conversation. A time when I know she’ll still hear and understand what I’m saying. It’s been an impossible thought. How do I say good-bye to her? How does a mother sum up in words the depth of her love for her child? It tears me up. But somehow, I must. Time is running out. And something in my gut tells me it’s now.

  “The day you were born, my chest hurt so bad. I think it was because my heart grew ten times bigger. It’s odd how love can hurt like that.” I whimper as my lips tremble. “But it hurt in the best way possible. I wanted you so badly. You were a gift, something I thought I’d never have. You are by far my greatest accomplishment, Neena. I’m honored to be your mother. It’s been my greatest privilege. Thank you for being more than I could have ever hoped for. Thank you for the joy and laughter you have brought into my life. Thank you for the kisses, the tickles, and hugs. I’m so proud of you, of who you are. I love you so much, baby.”