“Morning, sleepyhead. I made you this. I figured you’d need it,” she smiles, handing me a glass of Jack’s hangover-cure smoothie, which consists of two raw eggs, one banana, a handful of berries, a drizzle of honey, and coconut water.
“Actually, do you mind if we talked in the hallway for a second?” I ask, placing the smoothie on the counter.
“Can’t it wait? I’m feeding Fiona her breakfast right now.”
“Mommy! Mommy!” Cara shoots out of her chair. “Can I feed Fiona? Please, Mommy? I’m a big girl now.”
“Sure, princess.” Erin smiles, not having the heart to say no to Cara, especially when she’s this excited.
We step out of the kitchen into the hall while ensuring we have eyes on the girls at all times.
“Caleb, if you pulled me out of the kitchen just to apologize about yesterday, don’t even bother. I’ve had my fair share of bad nights. You’re allowed to have them too. But next time, I’d rather you sleep in the guest room. The girls got worried when they couldn’t wake you up this morning.”
A pang of guilt hits my chest, but I push it down, unable to focus on the fucked-up example I’m giving my nieces.
“That won’t happen again,” I promise.
“Good,” she says, stepping towards the kitchen again, but I stop her steps by gently stepping in her way.
“But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” she asks, sounding honestly confused about what else could it be, aside from me apologizing for being the world’s worst fucking uncle.
“What was that shit you just told the girls, Erin?”
“What?” she says, looking even more baffled.
“You just told little Cara that her daddy will be coming home soon. Don’t you think that just fucks with her little head?”
“I don’t say anything that I don’t believe in myself,” she replies with a stern tone.
“Are you serious right now, E?” I ask, completely mystified by her naivete.
“Yes, I am. Jack will come home to us. Of that, I have no doubt.”
“Jack has been in a coma for months, Erin. Fucking months.”
“Keep your voice down,” she orders with an assertive tone, glancing over at Cara as she makes faces at her baby sister to make her laugh.
“Erin,” I drag my hand over my face. “You can’t say shit like that to the girls. It will only fuck with their little heads.”
“This from a man who decided it was a good idea to get wasted last night and sleep on his nieces’ bedroom floor.”
“I already apologized for that.”
“Well, I’m not apologizing for what I say or don’t say to my kids. Jack will come back to us. I know he will.”
“Erin—”
“Jack is coming home, Caleb,” she interjects, rubbing her pregnant belly. “I know my husband. He’s a fighter. He wouldn’t leave me or his babies without a good fight. We’re his life, and he’s ours.”
I stand there silent, witnessing for the first time how my sister-in-law never left the denial phase.
She honestly believes that Jack will make it out of this alive.
And as much as I would love that to be true, logic and reason tell me otherwise.
“Erin, we all want that. I want that more than anything. But it’s not going to happen. Instead of filling the girls’ heads with empty promises, you should be preparing them for the inevitable. You should start preparing yourself, too, E. Because sooner or later, we both know we’ll get that call we’ve been dreading. The call from the hospital where they tell us that Jack is dea—”