Page 22 of Rectify

“I fucking miss you,” I say through tears.

Random thoughts from our childhood would pop into my mind while I was away, and it would take me days to get over the pain. Like a missing limb, there was always a phantom throbbing that lingered when I thought of the brother I remembered versus the man he became.

“I’m so sorry I let you down.” I cry ’til my tears dry up and until my voice is hoarse, my repeated apologies, all that’s left to say.

I sit there for God knows how long, mourning every milestone, every struggle, every smile, every tear. I lay it all at my older brother’s bedside wishing for a lifetime of second chances that will never come.

Eventually, I manage to compose myself enough to know my time here, in this hospital is done. I put Lily’s picture back in my pocket, take hold of Leroy’s hand in mine and offer a parting kiss on his forehead.

“I love you, bro.”

Walking down the sterile, and silent hallway, my boots squeak against the linoleum with every heavy step. I’ll never know what brought me to him only hours ago, but I can feel the shift. As if it was a necessity, that only the universe knew I needed, I feel his presence, guiding me into the next phase.

The one where I really will be all alone.

* * *

Switching off my car, I step out and shuffle up the driveway. Standing on the porch, I have my last smoke for the day. I’ve tried to quit. A million times. When we had Lily, it was my longest time without them, but since that dreaded phone call, they’ve become part of my daily routine.

Now, I’m like a young kid, scared of getting caught in the habit. I’m constantly wiping my hands with sanitiser, and chewing every fucking flavour of gum to rid myself of the stench before I go anywhere near Lily.

I flick the butt off into the neighbour’s yard and head inside. With the intention to apologise to Max, I’m interrupted by my phone vibrating in my pocket. A number I don't recognise flashes on the screen. Not an uncommon occurrence since I use my phone for work, I answer nonchalantly.

“Hello, Jay Evans speaking.”

“Jay.” There’s a worrying pause. “It’s Sasha.” There's only one reason she would call me. My heart stops beating, and my lungs stop working. I'm frozen in fear.

In any other circumstances the phone call would be welcomed, but knowing who she is to Lily and the time of day it is, my mind explodes with horrid scenarios.

“Is Lily okay?”

“She’s fine,” she says soothingly. “It’s just protocol to call the parents when a child hurts themselves. We’ve written up an accident report for you to take home upon pick up.”

The only words that I hear are child and hurt. I'm turning on my heels and jumping back in my car before she's even finished explaining what happened.

“But since she hit her head,” she continues. “I didn’t want to wait ’til later this afternoon.”

“She hit her head? Does she need stitches?” The panic rises with every question, and I do nothing to mask it. “Is she bleeding?”

“Jay,” she says a little more forcefully. “Everything is okay. I promise. There’s a solid sized lump on the back of her head, but she’s playing and laughing like normal. We put an ice pack on it, and we’ve made sure she hasn’t gone down for a nap.”

I look at the digital display clock in the car. “I’m coming to get her. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I figured you’d say that. She’ll be excited to see you.”

“Sasha.” The silence stretches as my heart rate and breathing finally return to normal. “Thank you for calling.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

The shut down is obvious, but it doesn’t change how grateful I am. Knowing Sasha’s there with Lily until I arrive, eases my worry.

I punch in the code for the door, and in three large strides, I’m watching Lily laugh in Sasha’s lap. Sucking on a raspberry ice block, her giggles fill up the room as Sasha animatedly reads her a book.

While the rest of the kids seem to be outside enjoying the afternoon sun, I take inventory of the two of them enjoying each others company. It’s a picture of effortless beauty, and my chest tightens. It’s not often I let myself think about Lily and her mother, and what their relationship would be like if she was still around. But watching Lily interact with such comfort and familiarity has me mourning things my daughter and I will never get to experience.

I thought I would be able to give Lily the life I never had, more importantly, a mother. Even if the circumstances aren’t the same, I don’t ever want her to endure the loss I felt. The loneliness, and the endless comparisons to perfect families. Those feelings follow you like a dark shadow you can never rid yourself of. That’s not the life I’m working towards for her. I don’t ever want to be responsible for any negativity in her life. I will live my life shielding her from all of that.

Every day I try to show her I love her. Fuelled by the fear of fucking up, I am overbearing, strict, and when it comes to Lily, her happiness is non-negotiable. Ever. And I hope whenever the day comes that I say my last words and take my last breath she knows, with every fibre of her being that she was loved.

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