Page 60 of Spoil
I slump back down in one of the hard chairs, prop my elbows on my knees and drop my hand into my hands, miserable.
I listen as Nell cries softly. And while the sound physically hurts to hear, I deserve the punishment. Self-loathing creeps in, and I don’t know where we go from here.
Am I done with her? Not by a long shot. Am I furious with her? Yes. Am I devastated by the idea that I’m not enough for her? Absolutely. Maybe she’s right. Maybe the best we can hope for is co-parenting. Because I can’t make her choose me. I tried.
I tried.
And I failed.
“Are you mad at my mommy?” a small voice asks. I look up to see Danny sitting up, hands nervously working the sheet over her lap as she takes Nell and me in. I give her a sad smile as Nell wipes at her tears, trying to hide them. Of course she doesn’t want Danny to know we’re fighting, or that anything is wrong. She would dig her own kidney out with a spoon if it meant protecting our little girl from the hardships of reality.
I stand briefly before sitting down on the foot of her bed. I rest my hand over hers.
“Yes. Yes, I am,” I say honestly.
Big brown eyes look up at me. “Does that mean you’re going to leave us again?” she asks, and my heart breaks. I never left them. But I can see how a four-year-old would simplify things.
I shake my head. “I never left you. I lost you.” I drop a kiss to her hair. “And no. I’m never losing you two again. I can love your mother and be mad at her at the same time.” My heart clenches in on itself painfully at the truth in my words.
Danny’s eyes light up. “Oh! Mommy told me about that.Um-con-didi-tal love, right?” She struggles to form her mouth around the word and completely botches it, but it makes me smile, anyway.
“Yeah, baby girl. Unconditional love. That’s what makes a family a family.”
I finally look up at Nell, hoping she can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I will always love you and your mother. No matter what you do.”
Nell’s face falls, and she loses the battle to not cry openly.
She stands quickly, running a hand down Danny’s hair.
“I’m going to go for a quick walk. Your daddy’s here, and he can call me if you need me, okay, baby girl? I just need a minute.”
Danny looks adoringly at her mother and nods.
And before I can say another word, Nell’s gone.
Chapter twenty-nine
Penelope
The cold early morning air whips through my jacket and claws at my ribs. I hadn’t had time to really grab appropriate clothing when Daniel stormed out of the house with Danny. I knew he would worry when I texted him, but I never imagined him showing up and taking her.
I can’t even blame him. I understand completely what it’s like to have your heart live outside of your own body and be vulnerable to viruses and injury. His history with his sister simply multiplied it. Was his reaction over the top? Absolutely, but I was going to let him do what he needed to do for reassurance. How could I deny him that?
It was the fury in his eyes. It was the hurt I caused. It was seeing my happy, cocky, flirty Daniel so utterly heartbroken by my own choices that had me practically sprinting out of that hospital. I should feel guilty for leaving Danny there, but she knows and trusts Daniel, and I knew I was about to break down.
My damp cheeks turn cold and then numb from the wind, even as the sky starts to turn the soft purple it does just before dawn.
I could call Cara and talk about it, but I’m not sure I’m ready for her blunt honesty right now.
Shivering, I find myself walking aimlessly for I don’t know how long. My legs take me left, and I realize I’m standing outside of the Arlington Cemetery, where my dad is buried. I walk mindlessly to his grave and stare at his headstone as if it has all the answers. I never visit it. I’ve never taken Danny here. She can’t feel the loss of a man she never met, and my loss still feels so fresh, even after all these years. Does one ever really get over the loss of a parent? Or do we all just figure out a new norm?
Hall R. Sills. Loving father and husband.
I was there at the funeral home with Gen and my sisters when they discussed what to put on his headstone. I didn’t care. It was a piece of rock with a name on it. My father - my hero - was gone. They could have placed an ad for McDonalds on it. None of the details mattered.
The words look just as hollow now as they had back then.
Chilled, I sit in front of the stone. I know he’s not here, but his name carved into the stone gives me something to talk to. Or talk at. Maybe it’ll help me make sense of the thousands of thoughts that swirl like a hurricane through my head. Somewhere during my walk, a headache started at my temples and threatened to spread.
