PART VIII


September 13, 2010

She is finally sleeping though certainly not peacefully. May tosses and turns on
her bed and I stand at the doorway watching her, wishing I could make whatever
it is that's disrupting her sleep go away. But I can't. It's here to stay.

I can't believe another night is upon us and there is no news. I'm too tired to
call again and get another dismal report. I need to get some sleep, too, but I
don't want to go to our bed. I just can't.

I pull May's door shut quietly and leave her to her restless sleep. I'll sleep
on the couch. Or at least try to. I'm tired, but I'm not sure I can shut my
eyes. Walking past our bedroom door, I fight the urge to turn in and look at
those notes once again.

I fight and lose.

I can't help it. Those scraps of paper might be all I have left to figure this
whole situation out. I keep trying to put them in some sort of order, but it
doesn't make sense. Nothing I do with them makes sense.

I just want to know why and the answer doesn't lie in an old box. It lies with
Sarah and she's not here to tell me.

Pulling the box down out of the closet, I hold it in my arms until I get to the
living room. I run my fingers through them, hoping for answers.

Maybe there are no answers. Or at least none I'll be satisfied with.

Maybe it would be best if I just went to sleep and forgot this ever happened.

**********

July 8, 2006

I look up to see Mac walking across the grass towards the hangar where I've been
working on my plane. It's my futile attempt to forget everything that's gone
wrong but it's not working. Nothing is going to help right now. There's too much
to forget.

Mac's dressed for the hot summer weather, her legs long, tan and bare. I have no
idea what she's doing here. She's just here and my heart pounds a little too
hard. I needed someone to talk to and now she's here. I'm just not certain what
I'm going to say. Not sure of the right words anymore.

That's all I need right now. Someone to talk to. A friend. Mac and I are just
friends. Nothing more.

She stops before me, on the other side of the wing, and slides an envelope
across the smooth surface. "You wanted these?" she asks as I reach for it.
Inside are recent pictures of her daughter, dressed for weather a little cooler
than it is here. I can tell by the backdrop that these were taken in Australia
before I called and asked her to come home.

Several of them are of Mic and May. Some are of all three of them together. I'm
tempted to take the one of Mac and with her arms around her daughter, but I
leave it in the envelope. "I only need one," I say, taking a picture of the
little girl standing by herself. I set it down on the wing and hand her the rest
of the pictures.

Mac looks at my choice as she wipes her sweaty bangs out of her eyes. Her
expression doesn't give me a single clue about what she's thinking or feeling.
She looks tired. That's all. We both look tired. "That's a good one. She looks
like her daddy there for a change."

"Her daddy or her father?" I ask and Mac doesn't answer right away. She swallows
hard and keeps her eyes on the photo. Her jaw clenches and unclenches but she
doesn't say a word. I don't know what I expect. I don't know why I brought it up
now when all I wanted was someone to talk to. "Sarah?"

"Don't."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry because it's too late to be sorry. So just don't." She takes a
step back away from the plane and I wish I could reach out for her but there's
too much in between us. "Don't start."

"I won't do anything. I won't say anything."

"That's par for the course, don't you think?" she asks with a scoff.

"What do you want me to say?" I move around the wing to the side she's on and
she crosses her arms over her chest in some sort of defensive posture. "Why'd
you bring the pictures out to me?"

"You asked for them . . . your mother," she answers, closing her eyes. "I don't
know."

"You had to know I'd say something sooner or later. You had to know I always
suspected . . ."

"Then why in the hell didn't you say something before now? How long were you
going to wait? How long were you going to leave me wondering if you knew? If you
even cared?" she asks sharply, cutting me off mid sentence. She opens her eyes
and they are filled with fire. I imagine the anger there has been bubbling right
below the surface for years and it wasn't going to take much on my part to rouse
it.

"You were happy."

"I'm still happy."

"You don't look happy."

"And you're going to fix that?" she asks, still walking backwards away from me.

"I can't. I can't fix anything."

"No kidding," she says, scoffing again.

"Mac . . ."

"You think you can make it all better now? You've never been able to make it all
better. One weekend. One weekend it was all better but then we had to come back
here to the real world. God, Harm, don't you think I've wanted to go back? A
million times over. Don't you think I wish this said something?" she asks,
pulling out a scrap of paper from her pocket. She flips it at me and I catch it
before it can flutter to the ground. I hold the paper between my fingers,
remembering when I left it on her desk. I didn't know what to say then. I wanted
to write something in it. I wanted to tell her to come away with me but I
couldn't. I was too scared.

"I'm . . . I didn't mean to . . ."

"You never have," she says, turning around and leaving me alone with my plane.

*************

July 9, 2006

I can't fight the deep haze of sleep and depression. Can't even fight it long
enough to figure out what that noise is. There's something . . . banging . . .
but I don't care. I drift back to a deep sleep, happier there.

I don't know how long I've been asleep when the shrill sound of the phone
finally startles me into consciousness. Running my hand over my body, I discover
I'm still wearing the clothes I put on this morning to go to the airfield. I
squint around the room. I'm in May's room. I vaguely remember coming in here to
lie down a long time ago. The Winnie the Pooh clock on the wall lets me know
it's 2 a.m. I slept most of the afternoon and all evening. Without May here . .
. I'm just tired.

I miss her. And I miss Mic a little.

And right now, I miss Harm. I put my head back down on my arms with that
thought. I haven't had that one in a while. Haven't felt this ache that starts
in my heart and grows outward from there.

The phone stops ringing before the answering machine picks it up and starts
again right away. I fumble for it quickly, hoping it's Mic. He was supposed to
call me today. Overnight. I want to talk to May. I need to talk to my daughter
even though she doesn't say much. I just need to hear her voice. I fell asleep
on the floor of her room with the phone nearby. I miss her so much and I need to
hear her.

"Mic?" I answer, only to be greeted by silence. I hope I didn't miss his call.
Damn it, why didn't I answer? "Mic? Are you there?"

"Mac, open the front door."

I let out a sigh and I'm not sure whether it is one of relief or disappointment.
I'm not quite sure what I want right now. I can't make my mind up. I never will
be able to make up my damn mind.

"Harm . . ."

"Please open the door. I've been pounding forever and you're scaring me."

"I was asleep. I'm . . . hold on." I toss the phone onto May's bed and try to
get my bearings. I stumble down the dark hallway, my body stiff from sleeping so
long on the floor. I don't turn on any lights. This is all easier to face in the
dark. Easier to hide in the dark.

I unbolt the locks on the front door and pull it open to find Harm standing
there, leaning against the outside wall. He's got on the same clothes he had on
this afternoon, too, but he doesn't look as wrinkled. He doesn't look like he's
been sleeping on the floor or like he has even slept anywhere yet. He shoves his
wireless phone into his pocket and then pulls something out of the other pocket.


"Here." He places the scrap of paper I left him with earlier into my hand. I
unfold it and read the words. The same words as always. 'Come Fly With Me' is
scrawled across the paper in his handwriting and as always it makes my heart
skip a beat and sink all at the same time.

"Now?" I ask, puzzled. "Harm . . . it's the middle of the night."

"Right here, Mac. Come fly with me right here," he says, taking a step towards
me. Before I can even think, I'm in his arms again and before I can even begin
to regret it his mouth is down over mine. Oh, God. I need to say no but I can't.
I can't and never have been able to. I do deserve whatever punishment I get for
this because I can't stop. I've never been able to and I don't know the reasons
why.

I don't even know if I lock the door behind us. Probably not. I barely remember
hearing it slam shut. All I know is his arms are wrapped around me and we are
moving slowly across the floor. Moving towards my room. I'm not sure I want to
go there with this and with him but I don't stop us.

"Why?" I manage to get out between kisses. I look up into his eyes and I know
why. He'll never say it but I know. I want him to say the words but he'll never
change. Too stubborn. Too self-centered. I have no idea why I'm letting him in
here. . .

"Because I need you. Mac, I need you . . ."

"Will you need me tomorrow?" I ask, looking away from those eyes. I'll believe
any lie he tells me when I'm lost in his eyes. This way, I'll only half believe
him. Only believe him until the sun comes up again.

"Yes." God, I want to believe him. I want everything. For him to mean it. For
this to be his house. For May to be ours like she should be. For this to last
forever.

"You lie," I say, pulling him towards my bed. Mic's bed. There will be no
forgiveness for this. I don't think Mic even suspects that it ever happened but
he might pardon the first time because it gave us May.

This is unforgivable.

This . . . is unavoidable.

My hands slide across the front of his shirt and down to his jeans. He moans as
I drag my fingertips across his erection, already pressing hard against the
denim under my touch.

"Harder," he says, licking his lips and I do what he asks. My whole hand pushes
against him and his hips buck forwards. Just from my touch. We've barely even
started and his breathing is erratic. Or maybe that's mine. They're blending as
one now.

I sink to my knees and use the hand that was just pressing against him to
release his erection from the confines of his button fly jeans. I pull them down
to his knees and carefully ease his boxer shorts down. I take his cock into my
mouth, wrapping my lips around his warm flesh. He gasps as my tongue darts out,
flicking against his most sensitive spots. Harm digs his fingers into my
shoulders and it hurts just a little. But it doesn't hurt enough to be my
punishment for loving the wrong person too much.

"Mac . . . stop. Please. Just a second. I can't keep standing," he says and I
release him from my mouth. He takes a step back and sits down hard on the bed,
sighing as he kicks off his shoes and socks and the rest of the clothes I left
gathered around his knees.

"You okay now?" I ask, moving over to him on my knees.

"Keep doing that and I'll be okay," he says, leaning back on his elbows,
watching me. I edge my way in between his long legs and take the base of his
cock in my hands before licking my way around it again. His fingernails dig into
my comforter instead of me this time and I feel all his muscles tense up as I
let my fingers explore across his body. I keep swirling my tongue over him until
I taste a drop of something warm and salty. "Mac, do you . . . I want more than
just this. I want you."

I ease back away from him and stare at his face. The room is dark except for the
streetlight pouring in the window. I didn't even shut the blinds. I should but
I'm afraid to step away for even a second. Afraid he'll leave me.

"I want more, too," I say, looking from him to the window and back again.

"Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere," he says as if he could tell what I was
thinking. I lower myself until I'm sitting on my heels and I look down at the
carpet. I don't know what has changed about him. Something has but I don't know
what it is. Whatever it is, it's too late anyway. "Mac, you okay?"

"Yes," I say, standing up and pulling down the blinds. That leaves the room
completely dark. Darker than I want it to be. I want to be able to see him. See
us. I flip on the light in the adjoining bathroom and pull the door until it's
only open a crack.

He's sitting up on the edge of the bed now, his shirt cast aside, and my heart
skips a beat as I watch the sliver of light glisten off his dogtags. That's the
only thing he has on and he looks good. Cocky son of a bitch has always known
what he looks like. That's part of what makes him everything he is.

"Come here," he says, motioning for me to come his direction. I do and he pulls
me closer with his hands wrapped around my hips. His fingers undo my shorts
quickly, tugging them down along with my panties. I step out of them, feeling
his warm fingers move up my thigh and brush lightly through my damp curls. I
shed my shirt and toss it aside along with my bra.

Harm's eyes look over my body and he smiles. I'd forgotten he hasn't seen me
like this since I had a baby. The baby that is most likely his. Soft fingers
trace across the small reminders that spread across my abdomen and over my hips.
Marks that let everyone know that I once carried a child in my body. I flinch
away from his touch but he pulls me back.

"It's been a while," he whispers, his touch now moving up over my slightly
softer abdomen to my breasts, fuller now than even the last time he saw them.
"You're still just as beautiful."

I put my hands on his cheeks, brushing across the rough stubble, as my thumb
glides across his lips. "So are you. But you already know that."

With that, he laughs and pulls me towards him. I tumble onto him, laughing too
as the bed creaks under us. His erection is pressed between his body and my
abdomen and I move against it, watching his eyes narrow under the sensation.

"You sure?" he asks and I kick him.

"If I wasn't sure, would I be lying on top of you completely naked?"

"I was just asking . . ."

"Stop."

I lean over and cover his mouth with mine. This kiss is even harder and more
passionate than the earlier ones as our tongues dance around the other's mouth.
God, he tastes good. Like something nearly forgotten but left hanging there on
the edge of a memory you can't let go. He can't decide where to put his hands so
I decide for him, guiding his fingers to the apex of my sex. I sit up and lean
back, feeling his erection press against me but not letting him in just yet.

I slide against him and he bites his bottom lip, holding on with all his might
to the last bit of control he's got. I smile at the thought of driving him to
this, enjoying the tiny hold I've got over him. He's got the same hold on me so
it doesn't really matter.

"Mac, is it okay? I mean, the last time . . . you know . . . protection and
everything," he says and I nod 'yes' as I sink down upon him, taking him inside
my body as slowly as I can bear.

"It's okay," I whisper without telling him why it's okay. He doesn't need to
know everything.

He puts the one hand that isn't occupied with other things up for me to hold
onto and our fingers entwine and lock. Both of us hold on to the other for dear
life, his grip tightening the longer I stay still. I can't move right away. All
I can do is look down at him and watch his eyes staring back at me. He thrusts
up just a little, his eyes pleading for me to move. And I do.

I move over him, taking him in as far as I can before easing back up. And he
thrusts up under me, meeting me somewhere in the middle. We both move so much
that the headboard to the side of us hits the wall hard enough to knock the
picture down that was hanging above it.

"Shit," I say, laughing. We both laugh and he sits up with me on his lap, his
knees still over the edge of the bed. My legs wrap around his waist and when we
start moving, the angle is perfect inside and out. Just in case, his fingers
return to my clit, moving in ever tightening circles. My hands go to his
shoulders, for leverage and for something to hold onto.

His tags are caught up around his neck and I feel them slide under my hands.
"Why do you have these on?" I ask, slipping them behind his back.

"I was flying. After you left, I went up." He doesn't have to say anymore. I
already know why he wears them when he's flying. He does it in case the
unthinkable happens.

"You went without me?" I ask, faking a pout.

"I'm taking you with me now so shut up." His voice comes out deep and raspy and
I love the sound of it.

We both continue to move against the other. The room smells of warmth and sex
and Harm and I shut my eyes, trying to absorb it all. I try not to think of how
wrong this all is. I'll think about that when the sun comes up but not right
now.

"Always take me with you," I whisper and he nods. Both of us know it's an
impossible request. I don't care.

Everything starts to unwind inside my body and I struggle to focus. I can't for
long and the room begins to swirl around me as everything descends into
darkness. My body quakes around him. Quakes and flutters and pulls him with me
into this dark place. He lets out one last groan as he releases everything in me
and I feel his hot breath near my face as it comes out in ragged, harsh pants.
We both hold onto each other, our bodies now slick with sweat and drenched in
the fragrance of us.

"Oh God," he mutters softly as he pulls me down to lie beside him on the bed.
"I've missed you."

"Harm . . . stop," I say. I don't want him to lie just because of what we've
done.

"I have."

"Is this because of your mother?" I ask, and he doesn't say a word. I suspected
that might be it but I didn't want to admit it to myself.

"Usually, my mom doesn't come up in conversations right after I've had sex with
someone," he says with a sniffle.

"I was just wondering because I know that's a lot of stress and . . ." I'm
interrupted by the phone ringing somewhere in the house. Shit. Where did I leave
the damn phone? May's room.

"Who would be calling you at this hour . . . oh," he says, probably calculating
the time in Australia in his head. He rolls away and clutches onto one of my
pillows.

"I have to get it. It might be May. I told her I would talk to her today. I'm
sorry," I say, grabbing my bathrobe and hurrying towards the door.

"That's okay," is the last thing I hear as I rush from the room.

***************

The morning light trickles through the window shades way too soon. Mac is still
sleeping, her hands tucked under her pillow, her face looking peaceful. I'm not
so sure how she'll look when she wakes up and sees me in her bed. I'm not sure
how I feel right now.

I close my eyes for just a second and during that time I hear the rustle of
sheets and feel the warmth of her hand on my cheek. She's awake already.

"You awake?" she asks me and I open my eyes to finally meet hers.

"Yeah, I am," I say and she edges towards me. I wrap her in my arms and breathe
in the scent of her hair. I can't make this work out so no one gets hurt. I've
run over a million different scenarios in my mind but none of them end well for
everybody. I know it's naive of me to believe that it would end well. I know I
shouldn't have ever expected it to work out that way. The least painful solution
is always the same one. I have to get up from here and not come back.

"You okay?" she asks and I nod my head in a lie. "You don't look okay."

"How would you know?" I ask and she moves back away from me.

"I just know. I know you, Harm. Your life is a mess right now with your mom and
now this. I'm surprised you're still here. That you didn't leave before I woke
up and go flying," she says and I smile.

"I honestly didn't even think about it," I say, brushing the hair out of her
eyes. Mac props herself up on an elbow and puts the back of her hand up against
my forehead, just like a mother checking a child's temperature. That's what she
is. Someone's mother.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks, moving away and pressing her lips to the spot
her hand just occupied. I grab her again, pulling her body down onto mine.

"I'm feeling fine. Just . . . I don't know, Mac. I don't know how to make
everything right," I say and she laughs.

"Harm, aren't you ever going to learn? There is no way to make this right. It's
too screwed up to make right anymore," she says, still laughing.

"Then what are we doing here?" I ask. She moves her body against mine just right
and I remember exactly what we're doing here.

"I don't know, Harm. You're the one who showed up on my doorstep in the middle
of the night. Why don't you tell me what you're doing here? You said this has
nothing to do with your mother. What does it have to do with, then? The time was
right? Mic is away? You got lonely?" she asks and I close my eyes again, trying
to figure it all out myself.

"All of the above?" I answer and she nods before rolling off of me and curling
up at my side. "Because I missed you?"

"Is that a question or your reason?" she asks and I just shrug. We both lie here
silently, staring at anything but each other. Staring at the ceiling in a
bedroom that's not mine. A bedroom that belongs to someone else.

"Are you going to leave him?"

"What?" she asks, propping herself back up on her elbow.

"Leave Mic. Are you going to leave him?" I ask and now she closes her eyes.

"I can't."

"Why not?" I ask and she furrows up her brow before answering.

"He has May."

"He'll bring her home," I say and she doesn't respond. "Mic wouldn't do that,
Mac. He'll bring her home. He would have to if she isn't . . ."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Why wouldn't he?" I ask and she sits up, wrapping her arms around her. She
stares at the clock and I hear her stomach rumble. Mac is always hungry, even
during life altering discussions. I reach out and touch her shoulder but she
moves away.

"I don't know. There are a lot of reasons. I just don't know," she says, getting
up out of bed and pulling her robe back on before leaving me alone in her room.
Again.

**************

Harm finds me in the kitchen, cooking my breakfast. He leans up against the
counter, wearing only his jeans and tags and I try not to think about how easy
it would be to leave everything behind if he asked again.

I can't tell him the truth. I can't let him know what I'm really afraid of
because it's so stupid I have trouble admitting it myself. I stop thinking about
what I'm doing and I burn myself on the pan I'm using to fry eggs in.

"Shit!" Harm rushes over to me and pulls me to the freezer. He takes out an ice
cube and holds it to the red blister forming on my wrist. The tears begin to
form in my eyes and I know they aren't there because of the burn. I hold on to
the ice as Harm removes the frying pan from the burner and turns it off.

"You shouldn't be eating that many egg yolks anyway," he says, returning to my
side and taking my hand in his again. He holds onto the ice as the tears
continue to roll down my cheeks. "Does it hurt that much?"

"Does what hurt?"

"The burn?"

"No," I answer, sighing as I wipe away the tears.

"Then what hurts?" he asks. I pull away from his touch, leaving him holding the
melting ice as I start to clean up the mess I made.

"Nothing hurts, Harm. I'm fine," I say. He doesn't ask again but tosses the
partially melted ice cube down the drain and stands behind me.

I can't tell him why I'm afraid of leaving Mic. Why I can't tell Mic about this
whole affair and let it be done with that. I can't tell Harm that I'm afraid of
having to face the tiny possibility that May isn't his but rather is really
Mic's biological daughter. It's so stupid but it's the one part of him I can
always hold onto. It was something that I knew that no one else did. A part of
him that I could keep for myself even though he didn't want me. I'm scared of
losing that.

And if she is Mic's, he'll certainly move back to Australia and be given God
knows how much custody of her. I might not see her for months. I can't live with
that. Even if she isn't his biologically, he is her daddy. I don't know what I
would do. After hearing her voice in the middle of the night, I know I can't
live without her. I know I can't hurt her like that.

Chances are she is Harm's but I'm so damn scared of finding out otherwise. It's
so irrational but what part of this entire thing has been rational? None of it.
Not a single day.

"When are you leaving for California?" I ask, sure that I knew the answer at one
point but I've forgotten.

"Later tonight."

"Oh," is all I can think to say. I don't why I expected him to stay here longer.
I don't even know why I was expecting another night together. I'm not so sure if
either of us wants one.

"She's not doing well," he says, his voice so soft and childlike that it brings
the tears back to my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Harm," I say, wondering what it would be like to lose a parent that
I actually cared for. Or having a parent I cared for ever in my life. He should
consider himself lucky. He was blessed with two parents that loved him more than
anything. That's all I ever wanted to give my child.

That is what I'm giving my child.

"Thank you for the picture," he says and I just nod. "She'll really like that."

"You'll call me if anything happens?" I ask. He nods yes though I'm certain I
won't hear from him for a while. My heart begins to break right there, standing
in my kitchen. It breaks for me. For him. For Mic.

Most of all, it breaks for May. She doesn't deserve this mess her mommy has
created. I need to straighten everything out. I knew this would all end in the
morning light. We could only pretend for so long.

**************

By the time I get done charming the nurse into letting me on the floor after
visiting hours, Mom is very asleep in her darkened room. She went home for a few
days but ended up back here, in too much pain. Hopefully, with the help of a new
home health care nurse, Frank and I can take her back home tomorrow.

Brushing my fingers over her hair, I wonder when it's going to start falling
out. I remember being a little boy, watching her brush through it as she was
getting ready to go out with Dad. She was all dressed up and so was he, going to
some military function. It was rare that he was home during any of these events
and they looked so good together. So happy.

I wish I could make someone as happy as he made her. But then again, he also
brought her so much pain. My memory shifts until I can picture the tears
streaming down her face as she tried to be strong for me. We tried to be strong
for each other. Now that I know how much it hurts to lose someone without really
losing them, I can't believe how strong she was. He would have made her so happy
if he just would have made it home.

I can't figure out how to make Mac happy. I offered her everything I thought she
wanted and she turned me down. She won't tell me what she's afraid of. She can't
honestly be worried that Mic won't bring back that little girl. He loves both of
them too much to hurt them like that. He loves Mac too much to hurt her in all
the ways I have.

She never expected me to ask her to leave him. She lived with this safety net
around her all this time. Mac never expected me to ask so she never expected to
have to make that decision. Maybe I should be glad that she decided what she
did. It would be such a mess. Professionally and personally, it would be a
quagmire.

Sitting down on the bedside chair, I run my fingers over Mom's hand, careful to
avoid all the tubes running into her. She stirs a little but doesn't wake up.
She looks so exhausted and this fight has just begun. I reach into my breast
pocket for the picture I've carried all this way. Propping it up on the tray
table, I angle it so she can see it. See the little girl smiling happily as she
holds out a handful of flowers toward the person taking the photograph. She
looks so much like her mother and I wonder how thankful Mac is for that. Maybe I
should be thankful for that, too.

If neither of us wants the truth to ever come out, then it won't have to. May
will never have to know.

"Excuse me, sir?" the nurse who let me in asks from the doorway.

"Yeah?" I say, sitting up in my chair and clearing any thoughts of Mac or May
from my mind.

"You're going to have to leave soon," she says, looking at her watch.

"Okay. Thank you for letting me in."

"Anytime," she says with a smile as she leaves me alone with Mom again.

She moves restlessly on the bed, turning my way before her eyes open.

"Harm?" she asks, reaching her hand out to me. I take it in my own and run my
thumb across her smooth skin.

"I'm here, Mom," I say, pulling my chair closer to her.

"I was just dreaming about you . . . and your father. And Frank was there. Let's
just say it wasn't the most comfortable dream I've ever had," she says with a
touch of laughter in her voice. It makes me smile.

"I think Dad would like Frank. He's a good man. He's treated you well," I say,
and her fingers tighten around mine.

"But Frank got to raise you. He got to see all the best years that your father
didn't."

"It couldn't be helped, Mom," I say, watching her eyes move to the photograph of
May.

"No, it couldn't, could it? She's an absolute angel. Mac is so lucky," she says,
not taking her eyes off of the picture.

"Mac and Mic are both very pleased with their daughter," I say and she now looks
at me.

"They should be thankful they have her," she says, her eyes closing under the
weight of utter exhaustion.

"They are. Sometimes I think she's what keeps them together."

"Ironic, isn't it?" my mother says, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.


"What?"

"Nothing," she says but I already know what she means. I might have given them
the one thing that binds them together. I asked her to leave but it's my fault
she stays. She doesn't want to hurt her little girl. Just like my own mother
never wanted me to hurt. She licks her lips and clears her throat. "Before they
throw you out of here, can you see if you can get me some fresh water?"

"Of course," I say, tucking her hand back on the bed as I stand up to leave.

"Harm?" she calls out softly as I reach the door.

"Yes?"

"Everything will work out for the best. It always does," she says, opening her
eyes to watch me. I can't help but to smile at her.

"Yeah, it always does."

****************