Page 11 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

“I’m more than sure.” I pulled the ring out of the box then and slipped it onto her finger.

It didn’t fit.

“Dammit.”

She threw her head back and laughed.

Chapter

Five

When I think of you, I touch my elf.

—Dixie to Mary

DIXIE

Present

“Grandpa,” Phoebe said, interrupting my thoughts. “Why did you hide this for so long?”

I thought about that for a long moment before saying, “I didn’t really want to ruin the holidays. But after my meeting with my doctor today and the prognosis report…I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

“What did they say?” Bayou asked. “How much time, exactly, did he give you?”

I gave them the generous number instead of the one he really expected.

“Three months,” I answered.

The real answer was four weeks to twelve weeks.

And even worse, it’d really already been two weeks.

If I made it through the new year, it would be a miracle.

“We should have a party,” Pru suggested. “A really big bash for New Year’s. One last biker bash that pisses off all your neighbors one last time.”

“Plan it,” I suggested. “But wait until after I talk to the rest of the family.”

I had two children that I needed to let know first.

And, if worst came to worst, and I was dead by the time that party came, then they could do a wake instead.

I felt it in my bones that I wouldn’t be much longer of this Earth.

It’s like I could almost feel Mary’s healing touch reaching out to me, urging me to come home.

And I wanted to go.

I wanted to go so badly that I felt like I was somewhat willing myself to hurry along faster than intended.

“What about that one?” Phoebe asked.

I looked over at the ornament she was pointing out and laughed.

“That was the first photo taken of me holding John.”

Chapter

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