Page 2 of Stay for Me
“You don’t know that. What if these girls are mean? What if the boys don’t like girls who don’t wear makeup? Why can’t I get ready in your bathroom? Why won’t you let me put eyeliner on?”
The life of a preteen girl is always so dramatic.
“Well, I need to get ready in my bathroom. To answer your other questions . . . you’re twelve, your father said he didn’t want you to do it, and I’m going to abide by it because he’s dead and I’m tired.”
Her eyes meet mine, and then she sighs. “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have said it . . .”
My sweet girl, always the caretaker. She may only be twelve years old, but you’d never know it. She’s sometimes more grown up than most of the adults I know, but that’s the life of a military child. They grow up too fast, understanding that a family is its own unit and everyone needs to do just a bit more.
Then she lost her father, and her childhood became nonexistent. Gone was the girl who spent hours on fashion and beauty. Instead, she has been trying to be an adult and I’m doing everything I can to stop that progression.
“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. I am. I shouldn’t have snapped. I was wrong.”
She waits for me to breathe normally and chews on her lower lip. “I’ll get Sebastian and me off to school.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I just need to get going. It’s a first day for all of us.”
Luke’s favorite saying was that everything happened for a reason. He felt that kismet was real, and that it was the reason we met. I don’t know if it’s true, but I never argued. I was eighteen years old, met a man who was a pilot, and I fell—hard. Within a few months, I was pregnant with Melanie and we were married.
No one thought we’d last—in a way, I guess we hadn’t, but it wasn’t the ending anyone had in mind.
“Did Grandma make our lunches?”
I really freaking hope so. I was unpacking while she helped get things ready for today. “She said she did last night.”
“Did she make Sebastian’s sandwich without the crust?”
“I gave her all the instructions.”
She sighs, knowing that, most likely, it didn’t happen. “She’s as bad as Daddy. He doesn’t make the sandwiches right either.”
Her body tenses at her slip. She never mentions Luke. She pretends that he’s just deployed and that we didn’t suffer the most unimaginable pain a family could feel. Melanie has taken it horribly. Luke was her world.
Her hero.
The father that every little girl dreamed of. He may not have always been there because of his job, but neither she nor Sebastian ever felt neglected. His job came first, yes, but kids never felt that. It was only me who got shafted in the time department when it came to Luke’s job, and I accepted my role. I was to handle everything at home—the kids, appointments, moves, and shuttling them around. I ensured that our home was a well-oiled machine, and if something broke, I got it fixed.
However, no one told me to plan for me being the broken piece or what happened when the plane went down.
“Everyone is trying,” I tell her with a smile, thankful that my mother-in-law has been able to step in and help.
“I’ll check on the sandwich while Sebastian ishogging the bathroom!” Mel screams the last part so loud I wince. Then she heads downstairs, missing the soft sound of her brother laughing at her.
“Sebastian, you have five minutes, buddy. All you need to do in there is brush your hair and your teeth. Doesn’t take more than that.”
“Okay, Mom!”
He’s eleven and this is really just to irritate his sister. I love my kids, but I really hoped to have today go smoothly.
It’s their first day of school in Sugarloaf. They’ve met a few kids over the years when we visited Sylvia and Dennis, but it’s all uncharted for them here. Typically, a new school is no big deal, but this time felt different because we had left military life behind. There was camaraderie between military kids. They understood how hard it was to be the new kid, year in and year out, and tended to be more welcoming.
Now, they’re going to a place where these kids have known each other their whole lives.
Not even thirty seconds later, he’s standing at my door. “Do I match?”
I look at him, dark brown hair just like his father’s and that grin that is impossible to resist. Then I look at his attire and groan. “I thought you and Grandma laid your clothes out last night?”
“We did.”
