ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟜𝟘
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When I wake up, Dixie's arms are wrapped around my shoulder. She kept pulling at me throughout the night, but I mostly kept my distance, my back towards her.
It was hard for me- honestly. I love Dixie more than anything.
But last night really hurt.
I knew she probably didn't mean it. It was probably just something that slipped out with everything she had been dealing with lately. She apologized over and over again, but that didn't make it disappear.
I mean come on. That was my sister she was talking about, Molly didn't do any harm.
Molly loved Dixie, Dixie loved Molly.
I reach over to hit the alarm on the nightstand before carefully getting out of bed. Before leaving the bedroom, I leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead.
We really needed to fix our problem. It just felt like every time Dixie and I finally found our way back to each other, something came along and knocked us off balance again.
Sometimes these moments made me miss Jordyn a lot. My daughter.
Dixie made it seem like she was the only one grieving her, but I missed her everyday too. That was my daughter. My sunshine. My bug.
And Molly being gone only made it worse.
I padded downstairs barefoot, rubbing at my eyes as I headed straight for the kitchen.
The house was still quiet. Morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows, stretching across the marble countertops.
Usually, this was my favorite part of the day. Just me, a cup of coffee, and whatever disaster the emails waiting in my inbox had decided to become overnight.
I reached for the coffee grinder quickly.
The familiar sound filled the kitchen as fresh beans tumbled inside. It was a comfortable sound to say the least.
Something I desperately needed.
A few minutes later, I wrapped both hands around the warm mug before settling onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.
Steam curled lazily into the air as I opened my laptop.
75 unread emails. I sighed.
The first several were from the foundation. It was another fundraising gala, three sponsorship requests, a hospital wanting donations for new pediatric equipment.
One was from my assistant reminding me that Engine 14 had been invited to speak at an elementary school's Fire Safety Week later this week.
I clicked the attachment and it showed the schedule, and arrival time. Apparently the mayor would also be there to kick off the city's annual safety initiative.
Right.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I'd almost forgotten about this, even though I was the one who pitched it.
Normally, I'd be excited because kids always asked the funniest questions. It would go along the lines of:
"Can firefighters arrest people?" "Have you ever fought a dragon?" "Can your truck fly?"
It always made my day.
But the thought of standing in front of a room full of children felt strangely difficult.
Molly was eleven. Just a few years older than most of those kids.
I felt a pit settle deep in my stomach.
I quietly closed the email before taking another sip of coffee.
More emails popped up. It wasn't anything unusual. Insurance, construction updates. One of the apartment buildings I owned needed approval for a renovation.
I approved it without really reading.
My mind wasn't here. It hadn't really been anywhere since Molly disappeared.
I absentmindedly opened another browser tab, the homepage loaded.
One advertisement in the corner immediately caught my attention.
That was funny. Great timing, too.
I stared at it. My cursor hovered over the little "X" to close it. But I clicked. The website loaded almost instantly.
The site was about couples counseling, conflict resolution, and marriage restoration.
It was private sessions, luxury retreats.
I leaned back slightly, tilting my head.
Maybe this was exactly what we needed. I mean, Dixie and I had spent months trying to fix everything ourselves.
Every time we thought we'd finally climbed out something managed to drag us right back down.
Maybe we needed someone who actually knew what they were doing. Someone who could tell us what we kept getting wrong.
I clicked another link.
I frowned. There were far too many options to pick from. How was anyone supposed to choose?
One had over two thousand five-star reviews, another specialized in grief, one specialized in trauma. Another worked exclusively with first responders.
I opened every single one. Twenty minutes disappeared without me realizing it.
Eventually I found one.
Dr. Eleanor Hastings.
She had thirty years of experience as a clinical psychologist and marriage specialist.
She specifically dealt with family trauma, grief counseling, and private practice.
The waiting list was normally six months.
I frowned upon that. Six months?
No way in hell. Me and Dixie needed something sooner.
I kept reading. Private emergency consultations available. Good, that sounded promising. My eyes landed on the consultation fee.
It was expensive. $20,000 dollars. For some reason, that reassured me.
Expensive usually meant experienced, and experienced meant better.
Better meant...she could help us. Maybe she could help me stop feeling like this, she could help Dixie stop carrying the entire world on her shoulders.
She could save us before it was too late.
I clicked Book Consultation.
The earliest available private appointment was Monday morning, in the next two weeks. It felt long, but I knew it would be worth it.
Perfect.
I entered my information, payment completed, and confirmation received.
I exhaled quietly.
One problem, one solution. At least I hoped it would be.
I wasn't going to tell Dixie yet- not until I knew it was confirmed.
If I told her, she would go ballistic on me. She hated talking about her feelings, or just emotions in general.
I can save the reaction for later.
A soft creak sounded behind me. I immediately clicked back to my email tab.
I looked over my shoulder.
She stood at the bottom of the staircase wearing one of my old T-shirts, her curls a little flattened on one side from sleep.
Normally I would've walked over, wrapped my arms around her and kissed her forehead.
I couldn't help but stay where I was.
"Morning." I said, looking back at my screen.
The word sounded empty. She walked into the kitchen anyway.
"Morning."
She stopped at the sink, hands holding the counter. Finally she smiled a little, though it looked uncertain.
"You're not going to give me one of your hugs?"
One of my hugs.
I looked down into my coffee for a moment before answering. "I figured you might want some space."
She blinked tilting her head, my answer throwing her off.
"What?"
"I don't know. After everything yesterday, I didn't want to assume."
Dixie stared at me in silence. Her smile disappeared.
"But I don't want space."
"Listen Dixie, I don't really know what we're doing right now. I think space is for the best, right?" I sighed.
"...Do you want breakfast?" She said suddenly.
"I'm alright."
She nodded once. Her fingers fidgeted together as she looked down. "I can make something if you want."
"It's okay, sweets. You don't have to."
There was more silence. Dixie hated the silence- normally she'd fill it. I would too.
"So what are you doing today?" She took another hesitant step toward me.
I rinsed my mug beneath the faucet. The warm water rushed over my hands.
"I'm heading over to my parents."
She crossed her arms. "You are?"
"Mhm."
"You didn't tell me you were."
I guess we don't tell each other a lot of things.
"I only decided this morning."
She stood there for another second before quietly asking, "Can I come?"
My hands stopped moving.
The mug remained beneath the running water.
For a brief moment, I almost said yes. The way I always did. My first instinct was to say yes because anywhere I went, Dixie came too.
But this morning wasn't like every other morning.
I rinsed my mug beneath the faucet before setting it carefully on the drying rack.
"I think..." I started quietly. "I should just go."
Then yesterday replayed itself.
I turned the faucet off, set the mug on the drying rack before finally looking at her.
"Today should just be family." I regretted saying that.
Dixie was family. I knew that.
Her face fell anyway. "I thought I was family."
"Of course you are."
"Then why..." She swallowed. "Why can't I come?"
I rubbed the back of my neck because I didn't know how to explain it. Every explanation sounded cruel.
"I can help spread information, it'll make her disappearance more visible to everyone." She stated.
"I know you can."
She laughed once. "You keep saying you know."
"Because I do."
"Then why does it feel like you don't believe me?"
I looked away toward the kitchen window. "I believe you. I guess I'm still trying to catch up."
"Catch up with what?"
"My head," I tapped my temple lightly. "It's still back there."
She wrapped her arms around herself. "If this is about last night, I already said I'm sorry. I really wanted to make it."
"I thought I told you Justin Deyes was literally my redemption card to getting my job back-"
"You're still thinking about your job, Dixie?" I cut her off quietly, rubbing my eyes briefly.
I frowned. I just wish she would get it sometimes.
Her shoulders slumped as she looked up at me. "You're right, I'm sorry."
"Yeah." I sighed.
I didn't really care about apologies anymore. They didn't matter if there wasn't any action.
But the thing was I cared about Dixie more than anything. I think I cared too much, I was simply afraid.
"Can you just let me?" She asked.
I closed my eyes. I wanted to- I really wanted everything to go back to normal. But normal wasn't here anymore. I wanted everything to go back to the way it had been a week ago, before Molly.
And before last night.
"I don't think today." I looked back at her.
She stared at me, the look on her face read hurt. "But why?"
Why was it so hard to say no to her?
I didn't have an easy answer to that, so I stayed silent.