Falling Slowly

Epilogue

Epilogue

Eight years later…

My fingers grazed the name embedded into the gravestone, lightly sinking into the chiseled dents that spelled out her name. It had been five years since I had last seen her, since I’d last felt her embrace.

Those last few days had been the hardest of my life, but they had also been filled with an indisputable happiness that could rival the sun itself. The last few moments of my time with her flashed through my eyes – her tiny hand go limp in mine, her tired eyes drifting shut, and the tiniest smile on her pink lips.

My chin quivered slightly as I looked down at the ground, hot tears burning behind my eyes.

I was still hers, completely and utterly. I always would be. I tried to move on, tried to find her in every girl I passed on the street. But it was impossible. Anya was it, she was everything.

Tearing my eyes away from her name, I met the warm brown of Phillips; eyes that I associated with her, even if there was no blood relation. They were Anya’s eyes. Despite my watery gaze, a small smile played on his lips.

“She’d be proud of you, Liam.” The whispered comment brought goose bumps to my already chilled flesh despite the sticky Alabama humidity.

I didn’t respond. The silence that spread between us spoke volumes as we were caught in our own private thoughts about what she’d say and how she’d react to the news. After a few minutes passed, Phillip put his arm around my shoulders awkwardly, and we walked back to his car.

Charlotte and Hope were playing outside in the front yard when we pulled up into the driveway. I had only stepped out of the car when a small purple blur dashed towards me and attacked my legs.

“Daddy!” she chirped. Her eyes were bright, searching my own as she tugged on the hem of my shirt. “Nana and I planted flowers, wanna see?”

“What’d you plant?” I asked as she led the way across the yard. She plopped down on the ground and pointed to a fresh plot of dirt, her movements remind me of her mother when she was young. But instead of planting flowers Anya had been famous for killing bugs.

“Orc-kids,” she replied. “Nana said they’d grow in four years. That’s so long!”

I crouched down and took her tiny hands in mine. “Just you wait and see. Those years are going to pass on by faster than you expect.”

“Really?” she eagerly asked.

I nodded and she leaped forward, wrapping her arms around my neck. I picked her up and met Charlotte and Phillip’s glistening eyes. Hope nestled her face in the crook of my neck, gripping the collar of my shirt with her tiny fingers, clutching herself to me like a baby Rhebus monkey.

Her birthday was just a few short weeks away, and with each passing day everything that at one time made Anya perfect – that still made her perfect was shining through the brown eyes of my little girl.

“Daddy?” Her tiny voice caught my attention, and I marveled at the pure innocence of her gap-toothed smile. “Did you see Mommy?”

I smiled. “I did, baby. She loves you very much.”

“Daddy,” she peered up at me through her lashes, “I wanna go next time. Pwease?”

I dabbed her nose with my thumb and she beamed. “She’ll love that. She misses you.”

“I miss her too,” she whimpered, burying her face in my shirt, “but we’ll see her soon, like Nana said. Right?”

“Yes,” I reassured her. My eyes ventured towards the sky, savoring the sunset and the way it complimented Hope’s fair skin as I tucked her into the car-seat of my car despite her protests that she was a grown-up big girl. My motorcycle still sat in the garage at my dad’s place, a faded reminder of simpler days.

“Daddy?” She asked hours later as I tucked her into bed and double checked under the bed and closets for her.

“What is it, baby?”

Her dimpled smile brightened up her face in the dimness of her bedroom. “Tell me the story again. Of you and mommy?”

I kissed the crown of her head, the fractured beams of light casting shadows of stars along the walls, and began.