Desperately Seeking Epic(99)

My throat feels like it’s closing. Paul’s head drops and we all stand silent for a moment.

“I’ll be here bright and early,” Marcus tells us. I bend down and hug him before he leaves.

Paul takes my hand and laces our fingers together as we watch him go. He doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. All we can do now is pull strength from one another and hope it’s enough to get us through.

It has to be.





Clara spent the night on the couch last night, while I took the bed. But I was restless all night. After tossing and turning for hours, around five in the morning, I climb out of bed, deciding sleep is hopeless. I creep down the stairs where Clara is passed out on the sofa, one arm dangling over the side. But Neena’s bed is empty. I hear something scratching that sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. Following it, I find her in the kitchen, seated at the table with a giant butcher’s knife.

“What are you doing?” I hiss in fear, making her jump. She drops the knife on the table. “Are you okay?” I ask, calming myself.

“I’m fine,” she manages, her tone breathless.

When I flip on the light, she winces. “Sorry, princess.” The table has wood dust on it, in the center. I give her a questioning look.

“I wanted to carve my name in the table, too. I guess I should have asked first.”

Instantly, I smile and pick up the knife. “I think that’s a great idea, let’s just get a smaller knife.” I find another knife and hand it to her and she returns to her mission. She’s biting her lip as she works; focused. I make a pot of coffee and by the time it’s finished brewing, she’s done. She swipes her hand across the engraving and smiles.

She put her name underneath mine, but in bigger letters.

“Trying to show me up, huh?” I jest as I lean down and kiss the top of her head.

“Life’s too short to be subtle,” she pipes back.

She got that from the video Ashley made. She’s quoting me.

“That is true, princess.” I frown. Life is too short.



Neena and Marcus spend the day together. I try to keep my distance, allowing them space. Marcus is someone to Neena I could never be. He’s always been around. He’s a father figure and friend, all wrapped into one. He’s seen a million precious moments; possesses a million memories of her life. I want to hate him for that. But I can’t. He stepped up when I wasn’t around. Neena is the amazing kid she is because Marcus played a role in her life. I’m grateful he stayed and helped Clara. In the afternoon, he helps Neena go outside and they sit on the top porch step together, Neena is leaning against him as they chat. Clara and I check on them a few times as they talk softly. After a while, he brings her back inside and tucks her in, kissing her forehead.

“Later, alligator,” he says, his voice husky.

“After a while, crocodile,” Neena murmurs back, her smile faint and sad. It’s not good-bye.

It’s see you later.

It’s until we meet again.

That’s how Neena wants it.

My own throat starts to work overtime, swallowing uncomfortably many times over. Marcus is struggling to keep it together. His lip trembles slightly as he takes her hand and kisses it before he turns and walks out the front door without another word. I feel for him. I really do. This is not easy on any one of us. Clara follows him to make sure he’s okay while I sit on Neena’s bed and pat her leg. She’s curled up on her side, her blanket pulled up just beneath her chin. Her expression is hard to gauge as she stares at nothing. My little girl looks sad. Sad and tired. But too tired to cry. A disconsolate pang clutches at my chest. For all intents and purposes, Marcus is her best friend, and they just spent what they assume will be their last good day together. I can see how it hurts her no matter how tough she tries to act.

“I love you, kid,” I tell her. “I’m with you.” I just want her to know she’s not alone. That although I can’t carry this burden for her—no matter how much I want to—I’m here. She’s not alone.





Two days have passed since Marcus left our home in tears. He’s been silent ever since then. I don’t blame him. He was a wreck. Watching him fight back tears at times and falling apart was so damn hard. It’s odd how much hurt there is to experience through all of this. Some days, I don’t know if I can endure the agony. It’s an endless abyss. True torture. I hurt and silently pray for Neena; my beautiful little girl who lies in bed waiting for her own demise. Seeing her rapidly deteriorate, how she struggles, is an immeasurable cycle of torment. The immense pain reaches from the depths of my soul, leaving me in a constant state of utter sadness. I hurt for Paul. My heart goes out to him. He’s the father that’s only getting a taste of just how amazing she truly is. His window has been incredibly small. Having her ripped from him is his worst nightmare come true. He holds it together for my sake, but I know he’s hurting badly. And Marcus. How do I ever repay this man for what he’s done for me? For helping me raise my little girl? I hurt for him; for his kind heart. He’s the man that’s never had to love her—that didn’t have to be there for her all along—but he’s loved her like she’s his own. My heart races every time I watch her. I’d gladly lay down my own life so she could keep hers. God wouldn’t mind if there’s one more angel down here on Earth. She’s mine, and I simply don’t want to let her go.