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Her skin was ice cold.
I ran a hand over her forehead, and she was cold to the touch. I pulled the blanket up higher, just like I would if we were home and she was cold. I'd be tucking her in by now most nights, after reading her a bedtime story or two. Her stuffed unicorn would be tucked under her chin. That stupid unicorn had taken a beating and was ragged and threadbare, but she loved it. She had to sleep with it every single night.
It didn't feel right that her unicorn wasn't here now. I'd have to remember to bring it with me.
Her chest rose and fell slowly, too slowly even for sleep. I stroked her hand and kissed her forehead.
“Be strong, Ava. Be strong for daddy, please?” I asked her, my tears wetting her soft skin. “I can't lose you, baby.”
My little girl had me and her momma in her, which meant that she was a fighter. She could fight her way through this.
She would.
She had to.
“I love you, Ava,” I whispered, stroking her hand.
As soon as I said those words, everything changed. Her chest stopped moving, and the machines behind us went crazy, making all kinds of noise. There was a loud beeping that went on and on and on, and doctors filled the room, pushing me aside.
“Are you the father?” one nurse asked me.
“Yes, I am,” I said, the yawning pit in my stomach threatening to swallow me whole. “What's going on?”
“Please, step out,” she said.
She took my arm and tried to guide me from the room. I pulled away from her grip and stayed put, staring at Ava as the doctors circled her like goddamn vultures circling a piece of carrion. The room was eerily quiet except for the beeping.
“What's going with my little girl?” I said.
“Please, Mr.--”
One of the doctors turned off the beeping machine and said quietly, “Time of death, nine-fifty-five pm.”
I pushed my way past the doctors and the nurses and stared down at Ava's sweet face. It was so still. So peaceful. She looked like a perfect little angel. I stared at her little upturned nose, a trait she got from Shannon, the freckles along her nose and cheeks. She wasn't dead, she couldn't be.
The nurse who'd tried to take me out of the room earlier, grabbed my arm, pulling me from the room as gently as she could.
In that very moment, my entire world fell apart.
***
Two and a half months after the funeral, Landon stopped by and found me sitting on my front porch. Empty bottles littered the steps beside me. He didn't say anything as he sat down. I just handed him a beer, and he took it.
“Listen, man, I'm so sorry – ”
“I wish everyone would stop with the sorry bullshit,” I said, drinking down the last of my current beer.
I reached for another one and popped open the top. I tossed the cap away, where it clattered on the porch, spinning and rolling. I took a long drink and stared down into the bottle like it held all of the secrets to life and the universe. Like it could teach me how to bring my wife and daughter back to me.
“I'm so tired of everyone apologizing to me,” I said. “It's not gonna bring them back. They’re dead. They’re both dead.
“I know,” Landon said quietly. “But you know Shannon wouldn't want you to live like this.”
I scowled at him. “It hasn’t even been three months! I have a right to grieve.”
“You do,” he said, sipping his beer. “But you also need to come to terms with it and make some decisions.”
I sighed, running a hand through my greasy hair. It had been far too long since I'd seen a shower, and I probably smelled rank. My diet consisted of beer and booze these days. I couldn't even recall the last time I'd had a real meal. Probably Shannon's meatloaf, the night she died.
