Setting the plates on the counter, I grab Molly’s hips and turn her to face me.
“Molly, baby,” I say quietly so the kids can’t hear. “Gemma is with your sister for a play date with Aubree. She’s coming back this evening. Andrea is at the table with Gray.”
Her frown deepens, and the rapid movement of her eyes that Dr. Becker pointed out grows worse with her confusion. “Who’s Andrea?” she asks slowly.
My throat tightens, and I have to force the words past the constricting muscles. “She’s Gray’s friend.”
Her gaze drops to my shirt, and her eyes flicker back and forth as she thinks. I hate seeing the uncertain look on her face. I knew this was going to be hard, but I had no idea how much. And it’s only going to get worse.
“Wait.” Molly’s head snaps up. “Dugan. That’s her last name, right?” I nod. “I remember.”
Relief hits, but it’s clouded by the knowledge that this is only the beginning. How much worse will it get? Will Molly eventually forget our kids? Will she forget me? The thought is sobering and sends shards of pain biting into every part of my body.
Tears appear in Molly’s eyes, and her face crumples in devastation. I pull her forward and hug her tightly. She clings to me like I’m her lifeline. I wish I were. I’d give up anything, do anything, to be that for her.
“I c-can’t believe that j-just happened,” she cries softly against my chest. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”
“Shh,” I croon, my own voice cracking. “Everything will be okay.”
A couple of minutes pass with me holding Molly as she weeps in my arms before she pulls back. The bleakness on her face breaks my heart. After she wipes her eyes the best that she can, she turns around. Gray’s facing the table, but his head is cocked to the side, his worried eyes on his mother.
Molly approaches, holding out her arms, and in the next instant, Gray’s out of his chair hugging her. Her shoulders shake as she curls her arms around him as tightly as she can.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” she says in his ear. “So sorry.”
I don’t know if he’s trying to be brave in front of the girl he likes or if he’s trying to be strong for his mother, but the tears I see glistening in his eyes never fall.
“It’s okay, Mom.”
It’s far from okay, but it’s also unavoidable. There’s nothing anyone can do. We have to learn to cope with it and get past the hard times.
Molly lets Gray go, but only so she can cup both of his cheeks. She leans down the three or so inches it takes to be on his level.
“I love you, Gray.” Her voice wobbles. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“Love you too, Momma.”
With her eyes closed, she pulls his head forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. Once she lets him go, she faces Andrea, who’s been silent during the whole ordeal.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Molly tells her gently. “I’m not sure if Gray’s told you, but I’ve been sick lately, and… sometimes it messes with my memory.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Bradshaw.”
Molly smiles, but it appears brittle.
“How about I get you both some of my homemade dip with some chips?”
Andrea smiles. Gray did good when he became friends with the girl. Always polite and well mannered. And according to Gray, very pretty.
“Thank you. I’d love some chips and dip.”
“I’ll help you get it ready,” Gray offers, walking over to the fridge for the ingredients.
While my wife and son prepare Molly’s chili and cream cheese dip, I take Gray’s seat at the table. Glancing down, I look over the drawing Gray was working on. It’s the lake house. I’m impressed at the attention to detail. He even did the design on the birdbath sitting in front of the house. Looking around, I’m even more impressed when I don’t find a picture and realize this is done by memory alone.
“He’s really good.”
Lifting my head, I look at Andrea and nod. “He is. I’m proud of him.”
“I wish I was half as good as he is.”
Chuckling, I say, “You know, Molly used to tell me the same thing when she was your age. She’d try her best to draw or paint something. Let’s just say it never turned out the way she wanted. They weren’t bad, but they wouldn’t have won any awards.”
Andrea giggles. “I do the same. When Gray and I sit down to draw, I always try my hardest to do better than him.” She sighs and looks down at her drawing. “But it’s no use. I’ll never be as good as he is.”
I pick up her drawing and assess it. It’s of a seascape during sunrise. After a moment, I set it back down.
“Some people are born with a natural talent. Some people have to work hard at it.” I tap her drawing with a finger. “This is good. Very good. You only need to hone your skill on certain parts. Don’t ever give up. You’ve got a lot of potential to be great.”
She grins and a blush coats her cheeks. “Thanks, Mr. Bradshaw.” Her grin fades when her eyes slide to Molly and Gray. “Is Mrs. Bradshaw going to be okay?”
The vein in my temple pulses at her question. I have no fucking clue how to answer.
I look over at Molly and watch her and Gray at the counter. Gray’s only a few inches shorter than her. How long will it be before he’s towering over her? Will she even still be alive for that to happen?
My gut tightens at the thought.
I turn back to Andrea, my expression solemn. “Molly is very sick. Unfortunately, there is nothing the doctors can do to help her.” I can see the question in her eyes, even though she’s too polite to ask. “Eventually, Molly will die from her illness.”
Her sorrowful eyes drop to look at her hands twisting on top of the table. After a moment, she lifts her head, and her eyes glisten. When she looks back at the counter where Gray and Molly are standing, her eyes are only for Gray. Andrea has been Gray’s friend for a few years now, and they’ve grown close. As much as she feels remorse for Molly, I know her main concern is for Gray and what the loss will do to him. Molly and I couldn’t have picked a better friend for our son.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, bringing her gaze back to me.
Reaching over, I pat her hand. “Thanks,” I say hoarsely.
Later that evening, I’m sitting on the side of the bed holding Crissy, one of Gemma’s favorite dolls, while she brushes her hair.
“How was your day with Aubree?” I ask, watching as Gemma meticulously parts her doll’s hair in small sections to make sure she gets out all of the tangles. The care and patience she shows proves she’ll one day make a great mother.
“We had tons of fun. Aunt Lindsay let us play with her makeup and dress in her pretty dresses.”
“That does sound like a lot of fun.”
“It was,” she chirps. “She had a lot of pretty dresses, but I like Momma’s more. Maybe Aubree can come over next time and we can dress up in her dresses. Maybe even Momma will dress up with us.”
I smile and tap the tip of her nose with my finger. “I’m sure Momma would love that.”