Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
“No, thank you, though. I’m ready to say hello to Mommy.” She fumbles with her zipper. I snag the blanket out just in case, as well as the flowers she picked at the grocery store last night. There’s no rhyme or reason to which she picks, it’s mainly whatever grabs her attention and is the most colorful.
I close the door, leaving the truck running to keep it warm, and with any luck, the rain will hold off until we’re back on the road.
“Lead the way.” She knows the path all too well. We’ve made it a point to come here on the major holidays and days like today—Nellie’s birthday as well as the day Brooke was taken from this earth all wrapped in freaking one.
“I am.” Her hand untangles from mine, and she takes off, being mindful of the headstones while she makes her way to see her mom. Dark hair swirls in the wind, her arms pump at her sides, and when I notice she starts to trip, I’m hot on her heels. At the last minute, right as I see her pitch forward, she recovers before darting to her destination. I’d like to say I’m right there behind her, except I’m not. Nellie likes to have a moment to herself with her mom, and who am I to deny her any single thing?
“You want to give her the flowers?” I call out right as she drops down to her knees in front of the headstone. Brooke didn’t have a lot at the time of her death: a small apartment and some odds and ends of furniture. Her car was totaled on the spot. It added a level of stress that nearly rivaled Nellie being in the NICU. Especially since unbeknownst to me, Brooke put shit in place that made me the beneficiary, leaving the funds to me to help support Nellie in her future. I sold everything except what I thought our daughter would one day want, put it all in a trust for Nellie, and when the insurance settlement came though, I added it to the funds.
Then I did estate planning of my own, realizing that I’m fortunate enough to have my parents, unlike Brooke. Yet I put shit in place just in case, and wouldn’t you know it, around the same time that Nellie was coming out of the NICU, Kara was finally on her way out of a rehabilitation facility, and Dad decided the mechanic shop would become mine. He’d been ready to retire. Having his first grandchild and watching his only daughter go through relearning how to walk only pushed him over the edge.
“In a minute.” I hang back, watching as she brushes her hand along the engraved picture of Brooke. Nellie mumbles a few words under her breath. She’s too far away for me to hear them, and I’d rather not pry into her conversation. Instead, I do some talking of my own.
“Well, Brooke, Nellie is seven today. She’s so much like you. Smart, easy-going, and inquisitive as hell. Kara thinks I should get her tested for the gifted program, but I’m not sure. I’d rather her be a kid for as long as possible instead of worrying about some test that tells me her capabilities.” Shit, there’s no doubt about how amazing Nellie is, you don’t need a fancy test to prove it. “Anyway, she’ll probably tell you more. She already does.” Every night when we say our prayers or finish a story, Nellie looks at her mom’s picture on her nightstand to tell her she loves her.
There have also been times when Nellie is having a rough day, like when some kid at school will ask her where her mom is, or she’ll see a mom and daughter walking around town doing something that dads usually wouldn’t. Those are the days I hear her whisper to Brooke. A piece of me aches to fix the pieces for her, but how does a man do something about it? Beat a little kid up? Sure, that sounds like a great idea, and it’s also tempting, but I’d no doubt land in jail and feel like a piece of shit to boot.
“Okay, Daddy, I need the flowers now.” Her wish is my command. I move toward her and go down on one knee, allowing Nellie to take the flowers. I watch as she takes the old flowers out of the metal vase and plops them to the side on the ground. A lot of cemeteries have strict rules about real versus fake flowers, this one doesn’t mind much, and the last ones aren’t that old. More than likely, they’re from either Kara or my mom. They usually come out here to refresh them, a promise of their own they made to Nellie when she thought Brooke would only get the colorful arrangements a few times a year.