At that thought, my smile fades and is replaced by a frown. I’m afraid that while Sam and Sadie will become a part of my past, the sadness of losing them will remain forever a part of my present.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Sadie has never been on an airplane before, so she’s terribly excited. All she can do is talk, for the entire trip. I don’t think she pauses even once in the conversation except to breathe. She doesn’t really need anyone to respond either, which is convenient since both Sam and I are exhausted. Sexual frustration is never conducive to a good night’s sleep.
The passengers in nearby seats look over from time to time and smile at us. I feel like I should apologize to them, because maybe they expected a quieter journey, but nobody seems to be bothered by her. Sam just nods and grunts in response to her questions as he thumbs through magazines. I manage to catch a few minutes of sleep somehow, and as far as I can tell, Sadie doesn’t even notice or stop talking to me when I’m completely zonked.
“Where are we going?” Sadie asks, as we make our way from the airport to the taxi stand.
“We’re going to a really fancy apartment,” Sam says.
“Is it your apartment?” she asks me.
I shake my head. “No, it’s my sister’s. And it’s your Uncle Ty’s, too.”
When Sam looks at me sharply, I realize I just let the cat out of the bag without his permission. Oops.
“Who’s Uncle Ty? I don’t have an uncle Ty. And that’s not a name. That’s something you do with your shoelace. You tie your shoelaces. I don’t know how to tie my shoelaces yet. I’m too little.”
Sam interrupts whatever her next conversational volley was going to be. “Actually, sweetie, you do have an uncle named Ty, which is a real name that is short for Tyler. Daddy will tell you all about him in the cab.”
She stares up at her dad and then at me, frowning in disapproval. “I think you’re telling a lie.”
I shake my head. “No, I promise. Your dad wouldn’t lie to you.”
She pulls her tiny rolling backpack behind her and surges ahead of us, stomping her feet.
“What does that mean?” I ask, watching her go.
“I think this is her way of saying that she’s been told a lot of lies in her life and she thinks this is going to be another one to add to the pile.” Sam sighs in defeat.
“Oh. That sucks.” My moms were always very fixated on the truth. I wonder now if that makes them hypocrites, because they sure did lie to our fathers, if omissions are considered lies, anyway. But our fathers never bothered to ask why our mothers left, so is not telling them really a lie by omission or just a part of our mothers’ story they never shared?
Ugh. Why does everything have to be so twisted and complicated all the time? I feel like Sadie does. I just want to stomp my way through the airport and yell at somebody. But who would I yell at? My moms said they did the best they could at the time. And I have a feeling that Sam is going to lie to his daughter about matters from time to time too, because that’s what he has to do. She’ll be too young to know the truth of some things, like the fact that her mother didn’t die because she was sick, she died because she overdosed on drugs. Sadie knows part of her mother’s truth today, and maybe someday she’ll know all of it.
I was only ever told part of the truth about my life. The question is, would I be better off knowing the whole truth, or is part of it enough? Knowing Madison died of a drug overdose versus from illness won’t change the fact for Sadie that her mom is never coming back. If what Amber says about our fathers is true—that they were innocent and never could have known about us—will it make any difference? I still will have grown up without a father, and they still will have grown old without having raised me. Truth can be so cruel and ugly. Sometimes I think the lies are more comfortable.
Sam catches up to his daughter and takes her by the hand. She lets him, and together they make their way through the airport. I watch from a few steps back, my heart aching over how sweet they are and how tough things will sometimes be for them. Parenting is so hard. This is the first time in my life that I’ve actually been able to truly appreciate that concept.
We catch a cab and ride to the apartment in silence because Sadie finally falls asleep and neither of us wants to disturb her. All that yammering on the plane finally caught up with her, giving our brains a rest. I stare out the window, dozing off too. Sadie and I only wake when we’re at the curb outside the apartment building and Sam is pulling our bags out of the car.
“Are we here?” Sadie asks as I help her out of the cab.
“Yep. This is the place.”
She stands at the curb bending backward with her hands on her butt so she can see to the top of the building. “Wow. That’s really tall.” She looks at her dad, her eyes big and round. “It’s like in space.”
“What do you mean?” He takes her little bag and hooks it over his arm. It’s both hilarious and heartwarming to see such a tough-looking guy with a pink princess mini suitcase on his shoulder.
“It’s like a space building,” she explains. “Like in the movie.”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say, Sadie. Can we go now?” Sam is waiting impatiently for her to get moving toward the door.
She looks at me. “Is your sister home?”
I shake my head. “No, my sister isn’t home right now, but she gave me a key and she told me I can go in whenever I want.”
Sadie puts her hand in mine. “Okay. But I hope she doesn’t get mad at me.”
“Why would she get mad at you?” I lead her toward the front door.
“Because some people don’t like kids.”
“That’s silly. I don’t know anybody who doesn’t like kids.”
“Drake doesn’t.”
I pause for a moment and look at Sam. He’s furious, that much is clear. I decide that distraction is the best defense against the storm I see brewing in his eyes, so I point through the glass. “You see those guys in there?”
Sadie stops and nods.
“They are the bosses of this whole building. They put a photo of our faces—mine and your daddy’s—in their computer before we could be allowed to go upstairs into the apartment. Only the owners of the apartment can say if it’s okay for someone to put their picture in the computer. No strangers allowed.” I’m hoping that will banish any thoughts she might have of the bad men—aka Drake—coming to the front door of Amber’s place.
She looks up at me. “Do you think they’ll like me?”
I nod vigorously. “I’m absolutely sure of it.”
She tilts her head at me. “How are you sure?”
“Because you’re so adorable and you’re Sam’s little girl. And your uncle lives up there too, and he can’t wait to meet you.”
Sadie takes her time thinking it over but eventually nods. “Okay. I’m ready to meet my uncle.”
Sam holds the door open for us and I usher Sadie in. “Your Uncle Ty isn’t here now either, but there are some pictures of him and my sister up there, and I’m going to show you.”
Sam pinches my butt on his way past me. Before I can retaliate, he runs forward and grabs Sadie up in his arms to swing her around. She giggles in delight, which means he’s instantly forgiven for that pinch. His techniques for distracting Sadie—frilly dresses and acrobatics—work way better than my technique of trying to discuss my way out of things. I have a lot to learn from him.
I wave to the two young men behind the counter, recognizing them as the ones who were there a few days ago. They smile and wave back as Sam goes over to call the elevator down. I know it’s strange, but I feel like I’m starting another chapter of my life right now. Going up to my sister’s apartment and walking into her golden, be-feathered foyer with this little girl and her dad means something.
This is some scary shit, this commitment I feel I’m making by bringing them both here and staying together, the three of us. There’s a part of me that’s tempted to do a one-eighty and go back to that cab so I can hop a rid
e to the airport and fly home. Sam has a lot of baggage, and some of it is four years old and vulnerable as hell. I could really screw things up for both of them. Heck, I just told the girl she has an uncle she’s never heard of when it should’ve been Sam’s decision when and how to do that.
As I watch them disappear into the elevator and realize that they could be going up there alone without me, I hurry to catch up. The fear of losing them is greater than the fear of leaving them. I never realized before that there’s a difference between making a choice to walk away and making a choice to let someone walk away. It’s subtle, but it’s huge. One is running, the other is risking loss . . . and I’m tired of running.
Starting another chapter of my life with these two is a frightening thing, but I still want to risk it. Because I’m not really afraid. Maybe it’s fair to say that I’m timid or shy . . . I’m definitely an introvert. But it’s not fair to say that I’m a coward. I’ve shown that I can woman up when the situation calls for it. And I’m no dummy; I see happiness on the horizon. I can feel the warmth of that sun on my skin. I know there are no guarantees, that maybe my future will have these two people in it and maybe it won’t, but I’ll never know if I run now, will I?
I walk over briskly and enter the elevator with them. Sam is waiting with his key card in the slot.
“I wasn’t sure you were coming,” he says, vulnerability shading his tone.
I shrug. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because this is some big shit.”
Sadie looks up at her dad. “You’re not s’posed to say that word.”
He looks down at her and nods. “You’re right.” He looks up at me. “Because this is some big doodoo.”
I can’t help but giggle with Sadie. “That’s okay. I have a lot of experience with big doodoo.”
“Because she has a horse named Henry!” Sadie says, jumping up and down. “I hope I get to meet your horses and your goats. Not the dead ones, though. I only want to meet the alive animals. I don’t want to be an angel yet.”
I have to stare straight ahead at the doors as they close because I cannot bear to look at the precious little girl at my feet. I can’t promise her that she’s going to come meet my animals when it’s possible she never will. I don’t want to be another one of the adults in her life who lies to her. I glance over at Sam, but his expression is unreadable.
CHAPTER FORTY
Sam and I both had high hopes, thinking we could hang out here in the apartment until Amber and Ty got back from Japan, but it’s just not happening. It’s been three days, but Sadie is still more than a handful; she’s ten of ’em. She’s on a warpath from the minute she wakes up until the moment she falls into an exhausted sleep, refusing to nap, refusing to eat anything healthy, refusing to take baths. Any fantasies we had about her dealing calmly with her mother’s death have gone right out the window and landed splat on the sidewalk fifty floors below us. She’s not doing well at all.
After finally getting her down to sleep, Sam and I are sitting on the couch having a glass of wine together. He’s not even drinking a beer, too exhausted to do anything but grab the nearest alcohol. He looks into the glass and sighs. “You know my life is complete shit when I’m drinking white wine at seven o’clock at night, wondering if I can sneak off to bed without having sex with the gorgeous girl sitting next to me.”
“What are we going to do?” I whine, shaking my head. I’m too exhausted for sex too, and that’s just criminal when we’re so damn good at it together and we have more than enough bedrooms with locks on them to ensure our privacy. I try to run my fingers through my hair but stop when they hit a knot. I don’t remember the last time I used a brush. Parenting a child in mourning is way too much work.
“Why does she hate it here so much?” he asks, sounding bewildered. “She’s usually so easy.”
“I don’t think it’s this place. Or maybe part of it is this place, because it’s all new to her, but I think it’s her mom. She misses her. Her behavior is totally normal.” I think.
“You’re right.” He sighs distractedly. “I shouldn’t be so hard on her.” He gulps half his wine and winces, glaring at the glass. “Jesus, this stuff is terrible.”
I nudge him with my toe. “You haven’t been hard on her at all; you’ve been incredibly patient.” I really admire him for that patience, too. There have been times that I’ve wanted to rip my hair out of my head, and yet he just calmly steers her in another direction to distract her. Unfortunately, none of the distractions he’s come up with have lasted more than ten minutes before she’s out looking for trouble again.
“I think she just needs more space to spread out or something,” he says. “It’s just been so rainy here . . .”
I look around. “There’s lots of space in the apartment, but . . .”
“Yeah, but everything is breakable.” He points with his glass over to the vase we tried to glue back together. Despite our best efforts, it’s going to be permanently lopsided. “That’s probably going to cost half my paycheck to replace.”
“I don’t think Amber or Ty are going to care about that thing, but I get your point,” I say. “She’s going to bring the house down around our ears if we don’t do something.”
“Maybe I should get a hotel room.” He looks pained at the idea.
“No, that’s crazy. The hotels around here are way too expensive, and it won’t be any different from here other than being much smaller.”
He shakes his head and sighs, slowly sinking deeper into the couch. “I’m at my wits’ end. I don’t know what to do.” He closes his eyes and rests his head against the cushions.
I take the glass of wine out of his hand and put it on the table next to mine. “I know exactly what we’re going to do.” The idea comes to me like a flash of lightning, brightening up the sky. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. The question is whether Sam will see it as me asking for more commitment. I don’t think I am. It just makes sense . . . way more sense than staying here watching Sadie become more and more miserable as the hours tick by.
He opens one eye to look at me. “Just tell me what it is and I’ll do it.”
“We’re going to the farm.”
He turns his head toward me and opens his other eye. “Say that again?”
“You heard me.” I lean over and push on his shoulder. “We should go to the farm. Why not?” I stand up, quickly warming to the idea. I pace back and forth in front of him. “We have all the room in the world, twenty other adults who can help keep an eye on her, and the animals. She’ll love it.” My heart beats quickly with excitement. This could work. I know we’d be so much happier there. Why was I resisting before? I’ve already made a commitment to being with them during this mourning period—this is the first time I’m officially acknowledging that to myself, actually, but it feels right—so why not be with them in a nicer place? Once Sadie has settled down and Sam is ready to go back to work, we can move on and go our separate ways or whatever. I’m not going to think about that right now, though; we have plenty of time for making those kinds of decisions. “The animals will keep her busy. She won’t even think about destroying things because she’ll be having so much fun playing with them.”
“Is that safe?” He leans forward, his gaze more intense.
“Safe? Of course it’s safe. Chickens aren’t going to hurt anybody.”
“What about the goats? Don’t they like to headbutt things?”
“Yeah, sometimes, but we have pygmy goats. They can’t do a whole lot, and we’ll keep an eye on her.”
“It’s going to be an awful lot of work,” he says hesitantly, sounding like he’s warming to the idea.
“Believe me, we have kids out at the farm all the time. My sisters and I were born and raised there. Everybody who comes to Glenhollow is used to children being around and getting into trouble. It’s no big deal. We’re hippies, remember?” I give him my biggest smile.
“What about . . .” He looks around the
room.
“It can be just for a few days, to help her work out whatever she needs to work out. You can come back when the band returns from Japan. You’ll be right on schedule, writing music and everything, just like you agreed.”
He looks down at his hands, rubbing his palms with his thumbs. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” His question confuses me.
“What are you going to do? Are you going to stay there or come back here after?”
“I’m going to stay there.” This seems like a question he should already know the answer to. “Why would I come back here? I don’t live here.”
“Oh.”
I realize when I hear the defeat in his tone what he’s saying. He’s worried it will mean the end of “us,” whatever “us” is right now. A part of me is thrilled to know he’s thinking of a future with me in it, but the other part of me is trying to be realistic. Is it fair to imagine moving forward together as a couple when there are so many unknowns? When our futures seem to be going in different directions?
I go over to sit next to him, putting my hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about me. Everything is going to be cool; you’ll see.” I have to trust that everything is going to work out the way it should. It’s the belief system that our mothers raised us within: the Universe provides. We just need to go with the flow and be open-minded.
“Yeah, sure.” He stands and walks over to the kitchen, taking a beer out of the fridge. He pops the top off and takes a long drink.
I twist around to look at him. “What’s wrong? Why are you angry all of a sudden?”
“I’m not angry.” Sam walks over and leans on the edge of the counter, the couch maintaining distance between us. “I’m cool.”
“You’re not cool.” I get up and walk over, taking the beer away from him and putting it on the counter. “Tell me what’s going on in your head right now. A nickel for your thoughts.”
He stands up straighter, his presence dark and smoldering with emotion I can’t translate. “They’re going to be more expensive than a nickel this time.”