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I nod slowly to myself. “Define leaving,” I whisper.
Price: Merry Christmas
Scottie: Merry Christmas x
Swiveling in my chair, I gaze at the photos in matte black and gold frames. Amelia and I attended so many professional sporting events because she got tickets through work. And we took pictures at all of them.
So in love.
Best friends.
A perfect match.
There was never a time in our marriage that I thought we wouldn’t last, never a time where I imagined myself with anyone else. Not even Scottie.
Everyone who knows my wife knows she’s filled with life. Feisty. The life of the party. She knows no enemies. She lovessohard. But unlike Scottie, Amelia has many fears. With her, there’s no living in the moment. Her mind is always three steps ahead, anticipating everyone’s needs, or three steps behind, figuring out what went wrong with a proposal at work or why Astrid didn’t have fun at a friend’s birthday party. She’s a fixer.
But she can’t fix me the way she thinks I need to be fixed. She’s carrying enough fear over losing me for both her and Astrid.
“Dad! Guess what?” Astrid runs into my office with her backpack falling off her shoulders.
“What?” I turn in my chair.
“Emma’s sick. So, I get to be Clara instead of a fairy.” She hugs me.
God, I love this girl.
“My daughter’s the star of The Nutcracker. I’ll need your autograph.”
“My autograph?” She pulls away from me, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes. Right here.” I uncap a Sharpie and point to the top of my desk. “Write your name.”
“I can’t write on your desk.”
“It’s my desk. If I say you can write on it, then you can write on it.”
She giggles while writing her name in big letters. “Can we get pizza tonight?”
“No, honey,” Amelia says, stepping into my office, arms crossed. “I’m making dinner. Lots of veggies and cabbage soup.”
Astrid’s nose wrinkles. “Cabbage soup? Can we have blueberry muffins in case I don’t like the soup?”
“No.”
“We can have pizza,” I say, lifting Astrid off my lap and standing.
“Yay!” Astrid runs out of my office.
My wife opens her mouth but closes it just as quickly, turns, and leaves me alone in my office.
There’s nothing easier than not existing.
I head up the stairs and peek in on Astrid, who ignores me while playing with her iPad.
When I get to our bedroom, Amelia’s hanging the clean clothes in the closet.
“I’ll go back to the doctor. And we’ll see where I’m at on this. If they suggest chemo, then I’ll do chemo. We’ll let Astrid be part of this so she understands what’s happening every step of the way.”
