I place her hand on my wrist, now bare without the constant reminder of how far I’d fallen after Sara died. “I called my therapist in the boarding line,” I say, laughing because Dr. Felt had won again. “I called her because I knew she’d talk me into staying, which I wanted to do anyway, and she made me realize leaving would only make the pain worse.”
“Sounds like a great therapist.”
“She is, she really is.”
The Freedom Tower looms over us, which means the hotel is getting closer. The driver lets us out at the front and I make it a point to tip extra in appreciation for him not chiming in during our conversation. Things starts getting heavy about halfway up the elevator ride to my room as I took in every scent of her, neither of us burdened by the skeletons of our respective pasts. As I unlock the door she stops me, a look of fear paralyzed her while scaring me.
Does my breath stink?
Am I moving too fast?
Should we have gotten dinner first?
“It’s alright if you can’t stay because you have work in the morning.”
“It’s not that, I’m actually working the open mic tomorrow, it’s just…” She’s nervous, like whatever she’s gonna say could ruin the night. “…just for tonight, can you forget that I’m Harmony?” she asks. “Please?”
The door beeps and a clicking sound echoes through the deserted hallway. My foot holds the door open as I look her in the eyes, and I can see the fear. Fear that I would be like the rest, that she’d be discarded in the morning to rebuild the wall she’d taken down for me.
“Melody…” I say her name, “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”
She smiles and jumps into my arms, picking up where we left off in the elevator. I flicked the lights on as I carried her through the doorway. The auto close mechanism of the door does its job.
I’ll remember to leave a five star Yelp review because of it.
Twenty-Two
Lucid Dreams
“Is he awake?” a voice whispers gently.
“Touch his nose,” another voice says, from a further distance than the first.
A warm hand clamps my nose shut, and when I open my eyes, my daughter Grace squeaks and jumps back. I realize I’m not in New York, but in my bedroom back in Colorado.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Harry, exclaims as he bursts through the door, revealing himself as the second voice. “Daddy, you’re awake, you’re awake.”
He always sends his sister to wake me, figuring I wouldn’t be as angry with her.
Some things never change.
Harry spins in circles yelling my name, his body trying to keep pace with his mind. He tires himself out before joining his sister in my lap, jockeying for position with Grace before I convince them there’s enough room for both of them. I embrace them both tightly, unsure of how I got here, but determined to hold onto them as long as I can.
“Daddy, why are you crying?” Harry asks, running his fingers through the streak of tears I didn’t realize we’re falling.
“I’m just so happy to see you guys,” I say, running my fingers through his curls, still in disbelief that I’m holding them again in our home. They’re both in the footsie pajamas, prepared for both a playdate at home and a Walmart run.
“Daddy,” Grace says. “We…um… made breakfast for you, and want to eat as a family. Please Daddy, please.”
“Of course princess.”
It always made me chuckle when she talked like that. Her little mouth so excited to say what was in her heart that it would come out in spurts, and in my head, I’d insert commas and periods. But she wasn’t lying about breakfast, the scent of maple sausage , a staple in our family, wafts into the room. There will be a side of cinnamon raisin toast and cheese eggs to go along with it. To pass the time, they take turns being flipped on the bed, each giving demand on how they want to be flipped.
“Put me on your shoulders, put me on your shoulders,” Grace screams and I oblige, her little hands gripping my ears for stability.
“I’ll save you Wonder Woman,” Harry says, using a running start to hit a drop kick to my stomach. He helps her off my shoulders and I slump onto the bed, letting them pile on, burying me under anything they can find.
I lay still under the mess of pillows as they celebrate slaying the monster, taking turns peeking under to make sure I’m not moving.
My heart is full right now. In this moment I’m being the father I should have been all along, instead of the one they saw in spurts. It’s too late to make it right, but I can make this moment last, and for that I’m thankful.
I burst out from under their pile, roaring like a lion and sending them running for cover. Grace hides on the side of the bed, waiting for her brother to emerge from his usual spot in the closet. Their unity during these battles was always a fascinating look into their relationship. They’d be thick as thieves one moment, then at each others throats the next.
“Morning there sunshine,” a voice says from the doorway.
I turn and find Sara there, as beautiful as she was on our wedding day, a cup of coffee in hand, smiling like she always did in these moments.—when she finally saw the father she knew I could be all along. If I had to guess, she’d been standing there awhile. Whenever I’d have playtime with the kids, she gave us space, allowing me to stay in the moment, and not get distracted talking about things married couples talk about. I joked that whenever her love for me would run empty, she’d use these moments to recharge herself.
“Breakfast will be ready soon kids,”she says to them. “Paw Patrol is on in the living room, gives us a few ok?”
They put everything back in its place and head out, racing to see who could get to the couch first.
“Bye babies,” I say, feeling like the breakfast they spoke of isn’t gonna happen. “I love you.”
Sara jumps in the bed, placing her leg over my torso, our hands finding each other like they always did. She breathes deep into my neck, the Tahitian vanilla from her shampoo teasing my senses. There’s much to be said between us, but I don’t know how much time I have, so I take her in one last time.
“I’ve missed you,” she says, before kissing me, starting from my neck and working her way up.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, “I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out until it was too late.”
She kisses me softly, and I notice she has tears streaming down her face, mixing with mine to flow down my neck. My foot finds the waistband of the fleece pajama pants I got her our last Christmas together, the ones she swore she’d never get back into after she had our third child. I slide them down, the warmth of her skin reminding me of the first time we made love.
I was so nervous back then, just the awkward guy from her chemistry class with a weird sense of humor. It was my first time, but she guided me through it, like she would do once we were married.
Sara guides my hand on her body, shivering as I run my fingertips up her spine. She holds my hand to her face, pecking softly, her shallows breaths warming my palm. The breeze of the ceiling fan meets the tears, creating a cold that makes me shiver. Sara smiles, rubbing my head and kissing my hand, never breaking eye contact.