Desperately Seeking Epic(22)
“She’s asleep,” Clara tells us.
“I think I’ll be heading home now,” Marcus announces as he throws his beer bottle in the trash. “Mei-ling will be crying all night when I tell her the news.”
“Thank you for being here, Marcus,” Clara says.
“Whatever you need—whatever she needs, I’m here.” Then he looks up at me and adds, “That goes for you, too.” He shakes my hand, hugs Clara, and heads out the door.
“Did you want to stay tonight and get your stuff tomorrow, or just come back tomorrow?”
Scratching the back of my neck, I answer, “I’ll come back tomorrow with my stuff. Unless you want me to stay.”
Her eyes seem to droop, her shoulders sagging as well. “If I ask you to lie on the couch with me and hold me, could you do it without thinking it means anything?”
I stare at her blankly for a moment. She’s asking me to hold her—lie beside her soft body and hold her? I’m shocked. “I think I could handle that,” I reply after a beat.
She exits the kitchen and I follow behind her into the living room. She stands by the sofa, waiting for me to lie down first. I can totally handle this. Can’t I? I mean, I think I can. I can handle being so close to her in such an intimate way . . . shit. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. But I have to. She asked me to. She needs me to. I toe my shoes off and take my place, scooting as far back as I can to allow her enough room beside me. I extend the free arm I’m not lying on, letting her know I’m ready. She inhales deeply, releasing it slowly before she tentatively sits beside me and then lies down. Shimmying back, she curls her body into mine and the smell of fresh linens hit me. The woman still smells the same after all these years. It takes her a few seconds to adjust, but finally she stops moving and seems to sink on the spot. I move my hand awkwardly up and down her body without touching her. It’s just dangling midair. My instinct is to wrap my arm around her, pull her further into me, but I’m not sure if that’s what she wants. Thankfully, Clara answers for me when she grabs my hand and pulls it around her, holding my fist in her hand, and clutching it tightly to her chest.
“Thank you, Paul,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
I squeeze her gently. “You’re welcome, Clara.” For the next hour or so, her body shakes as she weeps quietly, but she doesn’t speak. I haven’t always been good with words. And it would be cliché to say, it’s all going to be okay. Those words in a moment like this would be wasted breaths. It’s just like Neena mentioned earlier, she needed someone she could say things to without them spewing pretty words back at her. Clara just needs someone to hold her, let her cry, and let her be angry. She doesn’t need me to say anything. She just needs to feel me. Eventually her crying calms, and her body relaxes as she drifts off to sleep. And just before I close my eyes, letting sleep pull me into the uneasy, dark abyss, I whisper, “I’m here, Clara. I’m here for you.”
It’s nearly impossible to crack my eyes open. I haven’t slept so hard in years. But I’m incredibly warm to the point it’s uncomfortable, and I have to pee, so I force my lids open and let the morning light leak in. My vision is blurry and I rub my eyes. When I open them again, the first thing I see is Neena with her camera—pointing directly at me. She’s wearing a black beanie, her perfect dark eyes peering at me as she holds the camera in her lap, the side screen tilted so she can see what she’s filming.
“Sleep well, Mom?” she preens.
“I slept okay,” I croak. “How about you, baby?”
She grins. “You’re so not awake yet.”
I roll my head back with a sigh and hit my head on something. I jerk as Paul grunts, placing a hand to his forehead where I just headbutted him.
“Shit,” I gasp.
“Language,” Neena laughs.
“What time is it?” Paul rasps.
I practically fly off the couch. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on the sofa with him. I just needed . . . I don’t know what the hell I needed. I guess I just needed to be held and Paul was there. But clearly that was a mistake. I don’t want Neena dreaming up some fantasy that Paul and I might reunite.
“It’s seven,” Neena answers. “Sleep well, Dad?” Paul pushes up, his gaze jerking to Neena before moving to mine. My eyes widen. She just called him Dad. I guess noting Paul’s reaction, she asks, “Is it okay if I call you that?”
Paul pushes himself up until he’s sitting upright. Meeting Neena’s stare head-on and placing a hand to his chest over his heart, he replies, “It would be my greatest honor, kiddo.”
Neena smiles, then she looks to me. My heart wants to split in two. My beautiful girl is ill, but here she is, smiling. I want to give her a trillion more smiles in the time we have left. And somewhere deep inside where I’d built a wall to protect myself from Paul James, my fortress cracks. He’s weaving his way back in. My instinct is to protect her, but I can’t anymore. If he makes her smile like this in such a tremendously sad time, I must let him.
“I need to get to the office,” I intone after a beat.
“Yeah,” Paul adds, and clears his throat as he stands. “Think I’ll go get my stuff together later today. The hotel has late checkout. I appreciate you letting me stay here.”