***
For ten dayshe’d been by her side. She looked so small and peaceful lying in her hospital bed draped in white sheets and a blanket. Each day that passed made her death more imminent, yet he clung to the frayed thread of hope because he wasn’t ready to let her go. His world at that moment was fucked up; his daughter was the one dying and he was the one living. He’d come close to death so many times—in his world of violence, the grim reaper was always lurking around the corner—yet he was okay and Chenoa wasn’t. It didn’t make any sense.
On a cold Tuesday night, he fell asleep in the chair he always sat in, but he woke up suddenly not long after.Something’s off here.He glanced at Chenoa; she lay perfectly still. There was no movement from her. Nothing. The beeping on the heart monitor had been replaced with a constant whine. Frantic, he looked at the monitors and saw the jagged up and down lines were gone, replaced by a steady line covering the screen. A cold sweat broke over him as he hit the red button while yelling, “Chenoa. Breathe, sunshine. Don’t leave me.”
The overhead fluorescent lights glared on and numerous footsteps rushed across the linoleum floor. He moved away and watched a crew of people work on his daughter, trying to bring air back into her lungs. After several minutes, the screen still showed a flat line. The doctor covered Chenoa’s face with the white sheet, forever blocking out his sunshine.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor and nurses each said.
His heart shattered into pieces. For seventeen years of his life, she had been his sunshine, the good part of him. And now she was gone and his life would be forever changed.
“We’ll leave you for a while with her. Do you want us to call her mother?” the nurse asked softly. He nodded, numbness killing his pain. “All right.” She patted his shoulder and left.
He pulled the sheet back and gazed at her face, then bent down and kissed her, her skin still warm. Covering her hand with his, he shook his head. “For so long you flew with such grace, but then you got mixed up with the wrong crowd. They clipped your wings and you fell to the ground. The fuckers sucked up all the energy and life you could give, and then they left you to die alone on a cold cement floor. Fuck, sunshine. I wish you hadn’t forgotten how to dream, how to fight. I wish I could’ve protected you, kept you young and close to me your whole life. Now the demons are gone and you can soar high and free. I’ll love you forever, sunshine.”
A desire for vengeance consumed him, and his muscles and veins strained against his skin. He threw his head back and looked upward.I swear on my ancestors’ spirits that I’ll find out who sold the drugs to my sunshine and I’ll obliterate them. I won’t rest until I fucking kill the piece of shit who murdered my sweet Chenoa.
He took out his phone and called Mika, and she told him she was on her way. Then he called Breanna; he needed her so much at that moment. Chenoa’s death was slaying him.
He stood over her bed and stared down, his mind blank. The only thing he was aware of was the cooling of her skin under his hand. When Breanna came in, tears streaming down her face, it startled him. He’d lost track of time.
She took him in her arms and hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine your pain.” Her familiar scent comforted him, as did the soft strength of her arms.
He grunted.I can’t fucking lose it. I gotta be strong for Shimá, Mika, and my woman. I can’t let this crush me.Over Breanna’s shoulder, he saw Mika standing in the doorway. He reached out and gestured her to come to him. She rushed over and he pulled her toward them. Breanna wrapped an arm around her and the three of them held onto each other, the two women crying against his T-shirt. He glanced at Chenoa, and he knew that her small body covered in white would always be etched in his mind.I just can’t believe I’ll never see you smile, or hear your laugh, or ever hold you in my arms again.He blew out a long breath and pulled Breanna and Mika closer to him.
Before they removed Chenoa’s body, he bent down and whispered against her cold ear, “Thank you for being my daughter. I’ll see you in the dawn of my final day. Fly high and free, sunshine.” He straightened up, then jerked his head at the two men waiting to take Chenoa away. Mika had left an hour before, but he’d wanted to stay until the end. He wrapped his arm around Breanna. “Let’s go home,” he said.
When they got to his house, he started a fire while Breanna told him she’d make him a cup of coffee. As he sat on the couch, staring at the fire jump and crackle in the fireplace, the aroma of roasted coffee beans filled his nostrils. Her approaching footsteps made him smile.
“Here you go,” Breanna said as she handed him a mug of coffee. “I couldn’t find the cardamom, so I just made it black.” She swept a few strands of hair from his face, then settled down next to him on the couch, drawing his back against her chest. “Is it good?”
He took a sip, the hot coffee helping to dissolve the numbness he’d felt since Chenoa died. He stretched out his arm and put the mug on the low table, then leaned back into her. She curled her arms around him, pressing him close. Kissing him softly along his forehead, cheeks, jawline, and neck, she whispered, “Just breathe. Breathe.”
The feel of her, and the love and compassion she gave him, touched him like nothing ever had. When he spotted Chenoa’s guitar leaning against the wall, he lost it. His chest rose and fell as grief consumed him, and his sweet woman held him tightly in her arms, stroking him.
