ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟞𝟘 #4
He smiled through the tears. "She drove us crazy. She almost climbed our bookshelf once."
I smiled. "You caught her, and you were so mad."
"I wasn't mad. Maybe a little scared." Cameron nodded.
"I just miss her." His voice was barely above a whisper.
I looked at him. His eyes were red now.
"I miss her so much."
Mrs. Hastings let the silence sit. She didn't rush to fill it, and I appreciated that.
Cameron looked back up at Mrs. Hastings again.
"I think sometimes I was so focused on taking care of everything else that I didn't really let myself..."
He stopped again.
"Grieve?" Mrs. Hastings filled in.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"I did the same thing," He glanced at me. I gave him a small smile. "I just worked. I worked until I was too tired to think, and I got angry when people tried to slow me down."
Mrs. Hastings leaned forward slightly. "That may be one of the things you've been avoiding."
I looked down at our hands. "I don't want to avoid her."
Mrs. Hastings sat across from us, watching us with the same calm expression she'd had since we'd walked into the room.
Except her eyes had changed. They looked a little brighter.
She blinked once and looked down briefly, almost as if she needed a second to compose herself.
When she looked back up, there was a small amount of moisture gathered in her eyes.
She smiled faintly. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be." Cameron shook his head.
She reached for the tissue box on the table and pulled one out. "I've heard many parents talk about losing children."
She paused. "But hearing you two talk about Jordyn...I mean, it's difficult not to feel it with you."
I looked at her. That made me feel less strange.
I'd spent so much time around people who didn't know what to say without trying to fix it, or telling you that everything happened for a reason.
Mrs. Hastings dabbed beneath one eye. "She sounds like she was a wonderful little girl."
"She was." I smiled.
Cameron nodded. He laughed quietly at himself. "Even when she was driving us insane."
He looked at me. "Remember when she decided she was going to help me wash the car?"
"Yeah. And she poured the entire bucket of soap on the driveway," I smiled immediately. "You shouldn't have left the bottle where she could reach it."
Cameron laughed.
Mrs. Hastings smiled. "She sounds very determined."
I shook my head. "She had absolutely no fear."
"None," Cameron agreed.
He looked down at our hands. Then he laughed again, but this time the laugh caught somewhere in his throat.
The world never seemed to understand when something terrible had happened.
The air conditioner still ran, cars still drove outside.
Somebody somewhere was probably complaining about traffic.
Cameron cleared his throat. "Her birthday is coming up."
I turned toward him.
Mrs. Hastings looked at him. "Her birthday?"
"Yeah." Cameron nodded.
He gave a small laugh.
"Actually, we have to go back to her grave."
My fingers tightened around his.
Every year, her birthday came around whether I was ready or not.
It didn't care if I was having a good week, or if Cameron and I were fighting. It didn't care if I was buried under work, it simply showed up.
"Her birthday is in a couple of days?" Mrs. Hastings looked at both of us.
Cameron nodded. "That's why we usually go."
He looked at me briefly before answering. "Every year."
"What do you usually do?" Mrs. Hastings waited.
Cameron smiled faintly. "Nothing huge."
Nothing huge was probably the best way to describe it.
"We bring things," I said, shrugging. "Small things. Whatever we think she'd like."
Cameron nodded. "Flowers, toys sometimes. Sometimes food."
I looked at him. "Food?"
"You know she liked snacks." He smiled.
I laughed softly. "That girl liked everything."
Mrs. Hastings smiled.
Cameron leaned back slightly. "We talk to her, tell her what's been going on."
Mrs. Hastings looked at me. "Do you talk to her too?"
"Yes." I nodded.
"What do you tell her?"
"Everything. I'll tell her about work."
I smiled faintly. "Or I used to."
"Now I'll probably tell her about the new firm."
That made me smile. I could already imagine standing there talking about an office she would never see.
I'd tell her anyway.
I'd tell her about the big windows, I'd tell her I might finally have my own name on a door, I'd probably tell her that her father was pushy because of it.
That would make her laugh if she were there, or at least I liked to imagine it would.
Cameron squeezed my hand. "I'll tell her about the station sometimes."
I looked at him then smiled. "Even though she'd probably complain about how boring that sounds."
He laughed.
"Jordyn liked coming to the station, she liked the trucks, she liked climbing into them."
"And you always knew she wasn't supposed to."
"I was supervising the whole time, Dixie."
"You let her sit in the driver's seat for Pete's sake."
He smiled. "She looked cute."
"You were wrapped around her little finger." I shook my head.
"So were you."
I looked away because he was right.
Jordyn could ask me for almost anything, and I'd give it to her. The problem was that she knew I couldn't resist.
She would tilt her head, give me those enormous, puppy-dog eyes, and I'd already be reaching for my wallet.
I sighed quietly. "I know she's not coming back, but sometimes I still expect to hear her."
"That's a very common part of grief." Mrs. Hastings sat back.
I looked at her. "Is it? Because sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind."
"You're not."
I gave a small laugh. "That's good to hear."
She smiled. "Your brain became accustomed to her presence. Her voice. Her footsteps. Her routines. Your daily life included her..then suddenly it didn't."
I stared at the floor. "That's awful."
"It is." She said, I appreciated how she didn't try to sugarcoat it.
"We used to argue about what cake she wanted." Cameron spoke.
I smiled. "She wanted so many balloons that we couldn't walk through the living room."
Cameron nodded. "She loved birthdays. Anything where everyone was paying attention to her."
We both laughed, then the laughter faded.
Cameron looked down. "Now we just bring things to her, and it's not the same."
"I hate that we have to go to a cemetery for our daughter's birthday."
Mrs. Hastings looked down for a moment. When she looked back at us, her expression was gentle.
"That's an incredibly difficult thing to live with."
Cameron nodded. "Yeah. I don't want her birthday to only be about the day she died."
Mrs. Hastings nodded, then asked me, "And how does it feel knowing her birthday is coming?"
"Scary, and not because I don't want to go."
I swallowed. "I do. I just... I don't know what it's going to feel like this year."
Mrs. Hastings nodded. "Why do you think this year might feel different?"
I looked at Cameron.
Because so much had changed. We had nearly lost each other too.
We had spent months barely speaking, we'd separated, we'd both been so angry. And we had said things we couldn't take back.
That was the honest answer.
"I think because Cameron and I have been through so much." My voice was quiet.
"And now we're okay."
Cameron squeezed my hand.
"Yeah."
"I don't know what it'll feel like to stand there with him again."
Mrs. Hastings leaned back.
"I think going there together may also give you an opportunity to remember that you are not grieving alone."
Mrs. Hastings smiled faintly. "You don't have to make the visit perfect."
"Trust me. Nothing about us is perfect." I laughed.
"That's true, but you can let it be whatever it is."
I nodded. That was the part I needed to hear, because I had already started worrying about it.
Would I cry? Would Cameron cry?
Would we stand there in silence? Would I feel guilty for being happy about my new firm?
Would I feel guilty if I didn't cry?
That was the problem.
Grief came with too many rules. I couldn't even visit my own daughter's grave without worrying whether I was doing it correctly.
I sighed.
At least this year, like always, we'd be doing it together.