Darcy and her father return back to their old stomping grounds of New York City. With her, Darcy brings habits of being reclusive. She is perfectly content spending most of her time within the walls of her father's café and sees nothing wrong with t...
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The jacket from Chris's suit did little to nothing to keep me warm outside as the sun descended into the horizon. The feeling in my bare legs were quickly fading to numbness, but I let myself be one with the way I felt inside.
Cold. Numb. Frozen.
After Josie's speech, there was something a little lighter in the air. It was the sounds of a celebration – a true celebration of the life Miss Sylvi had lived. There were more stories, more memories, told around hearty plates of food, over drinks, and by the fireside. There was the connection of strangers, and the reconnection of old faces.
Emery, Kristy, Zarah, Albany, and even Rayna sat with me as we caught up on the past decade. Emery has a thriving art shop on Etsy. Kristy was set to graduate in the fall with a degree in Marriage and Family. Rayna would soon travel to India for a study abroad program. Zarah, heavily involved in a volunteer position at a marine rehabilitation facility, was working a career around that upon graduation. And Albany, still undecided about what she would take up as a major, has spent the majority of the past two years "thrift-flipping" clothing and selling them for a profit to help pay for school.
We were scattered all across the country, with Emery the closest to me in New Jersey, and Albany the farthest in Utah. It was when each of them began talking about their families did my heart begin to sink a little lower in my chest. Aside from Kristy, who was adopted as an older sibling to a younger brother, had larger families with a minimum of five people in their household. They all had stories of many cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Some siblings were giving birth to new siblings every couple years.
And then... There was me and Papa.
Me, Papa, and maybe Suzie.
This is what led me outside to the second floor balcony, away from the crowd that was beginning to thin as the event came to a close.
The phone rang four times before Papa picked up. His ecstatic welcome at my call was enough to bloom heat within my chest.
I spared him – and myself – the exhaustive task of recounting the details of my day and, instead, told him of mine and Chris's day yesterday. I left out a certain watery memory before giving him the cliffnotes of the day today. As he went on to talk about all the things that went wrong since I've been gone (long doctor waits and an asshole air conditioning man) I couldn't ignore the rising panic that began to have a grip on my heart. It wasn't an unfamiliar panic, but a panic I've felt many times before. It was a true fear – a fear that I don't think I will ever be able to get rid of. But I could at least talk to him about it.
"Papa," I said once our conversation hit a lull. "I love you."
"Oh, well, I love you, too," he replied cheerily. "I'm excited to have you back home."
I gripped the necklace at my throat. The pearls were cool against my warm fingers. "But Papa... one day there will be a time where I can't have you come back home."
