Page 83 of Indigo

As I get closer, I see the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and my heart clenches. I crouch down beside her, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“Baby?” I try again, reaching for her as a fresh tear streams down her cheek.

The moment my fingers touch her skin, she blinks as if she’s coming out of a trance. “Pax,” she whimpers, her sorrow filled eyes meeting mine.

“I’m so sorry.”

She nods before looking back at Lana. Her bottom lip trembles, and I feel my eyes begin to burn again.

Don’t you fucking cry. She needs you to be strong for her.

“She’s so cold…” she whispers, reaching her hand out and placing it beside Lana on the bed. “I don’t understand. She just went for a walk. She does it every morning. A walk. And now…” She raises a trembling hand to her lips. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You don’t have to figure anything out right now,” I say, hearing the tremor in my voice. “Let’s just face one thing at a time, yeah? I’m right here.”

I place my hand on her knee as her face crumbles. More tears fall from her tired eyes as she squeezes them shut. “I didn’t even tell her I loved her before she left. I just got in the shower and told her I’d call her later. If I’d gone with her…” She breaks off on a sob and buries her head in her hands, leaning forward and resting her forehead on the bed next to Lana’s hand. “She wanted me to go with her,” she cries, her voice muffled by her palms and the mattress.

I do the first thing that comes to my mind. I stand, wrap Indie in my arms, pick her up and cradle her to my chest.

Sitting in the chair I scooped her up from, I rock back and forth, making shooshing sounds in her ear as she cries.

My chest fucking aches, and as my eyes wonder over to Lana, I break. I can feel the wetness of my tears against my cheeks, and I sob silently with my girl, kissing the top of her head gently as her body convulses against me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, over and over, rocking her, wishing I could take it away. Wishing I could carry it for her. Because the feel of her trembling against me hurts more than any punch I’ve ever taken, any loss I’ve ever experienced.

I don’t know how to get her through this. I don’t know how to get me through this.

???

Hours pass.

At some point, a doctor came in and explained to us that Lana had sustained an injury to her head, fallen into the water and subsequently drowned. They revived her on the beach, had to perform CPR twice to recover her heartbeat on the trip to the hospital, and then once she was brought in, she crashed again. They were unable to resuscitate her. Words like autopsy and morgue were thrown around, drowned out by the sounds of Indie’s pained cries as he spoke. Eventually, she fell asleep in my arms, and I held her.

As I sit there, looking at the woman who was like my mother, lifeless, pale, cold, a nurse comes to the door. She opens it quietly and looks at me with such pity I can feel it from here as I continue to rock Indie in the chair.

I know we need to leave. I can see it written all over the nurse’s face, so as gently as I can, I shift my hold on my girl and whisper, “Blue.” Trying to wake her without frightening her.

She stirs and looks up at me sleepily as she does in the mornings, with the sun pouring into the room. “Mmm?”

“Baby, we need to go home.”

Her eyes widen as reality hits, and she sits up, almost falling off me, but I catch her and help her stand. “Home?”

I nod as she looks from Lana to me frantically. “It’s time to leave, baby.”

She shakes her head, tears already spilling down her cheeks, replacing those that have just dried. “I can’t. I can’t leave.”

I look over at the door of the hospital room, where two nurses now stand.

A while ago, someone came in and explained to me they would transport Lana down to the morgue when they needed the room. That they’d give us as much time as they could.

After they move her, we'll be able to contact a funeral home to organise our next steps.

“We can’t stay,” I whisper, trying to help her understand. “They need to take her now, baby. I’m sorry.” I choke out my apology, and my throat tightens when she looks at me as though I’m trying to take her mother from her.

She launches herself at Lana’s bed and buries her face in her neck. “No, no, no, no,” she cries, her body trembling. “I can’t. She can’t. Oh, God.”

I place my hand on her back and rub my palm in soothing circles.

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