Chapter 6
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Days.
The word echoed in my head.
I called Marcus at midnight.
Told him what Dr. Patel said.
"Speed everything up," I told him.
"File the guardianship papers first thing. Get a judge to sign them emergency. I don't care what it costs. I don't care who we have to call. It needs to be done by tomorrow."
"I'll take care of it," Marcus said.
"Michael... are you okay?"
"No," I said honestly.
"But I will be."
The next morning, I was back at the hospital before sunrise.
Clara was awake.
Sitting up in bed.
Looking better than she had yesterday.
I knew it was a bad sign.
The final surge before the end.
"We need to tell her today," Clara said.
No hello.
No small talk.
She got straight to the point.
"Dr. Patel talked to you, I assume."
I nodded.
"He said days."
Clara's jaw tightened.
"I don't want her to find out after I'm gone. I don't want her to wake up one morning and her mother is just... gone. And some stranger is telling her what to do. She deserves better. She deserves the truth from us. Together."
She reached for my hand.
"I'm scared, Michael. Scared she'll hate me for lying. Scared she'll hate you for not being there. Scared this will break her."
I squeezed her hand.
"We'll tell her together. We'll be gentle. And whatever happens, we'll get through it. She's strong. Like her mother."
Clara smiled sadly.
"Like both of us."
At ten o'clock, Sophie arrived.
Her backpack bouncing.
Pigtails flying.
She stopped when she saw both of us sitting there.
Serious faces.
The room too quiet.
"Mommy? What's wrong?"
Clara patted the bed beside her.
"Come here, baby. Sit with me. And Michael, you sit too. We have something very important to tell you."
Sophie climbed onto the bed.
Crawled into her mother's arms.
Looked at me with suspicion.
"Is it about the shoes? Because I said I'd pay you back. I will. I have three dollars in my piggy bank."
I almost cried.
"No, sweetheart. It's not about the shoes."
Clara took a deep breath.
"Sophie, you know how Mommy has been sick for a long time."
Sophie nodded solemnly.
"And you know the doctors are giving me medicine to make me better."
Another nod.
"Well, baby... the medicine isn't working like we hoped. Mommy is very, very sick. And soon, I'm going to have to go away."
Sophie's brow furrowed.
"Go away where? To the hospital forever?"
"Not exactly. I'm going to a place where there's no more pain. No more ouchies. I'll be happy there. And I'll watch over you every single day. But I won't be here. Not in person."
The room was dead silent.
Sophie processed this.
Her little mind working.
Then her lip started to tremble.
"You're going to die?" she whispered.
Clara held her tighter.
Tears streaming down her face.
"Yes, baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Sophie screamed.
A raw, animal sound.
"No! No! You can't! You promised! You promised you'd get better! You promised!"
She thrashed in her mother's arms.
Kicking.
Crying.
I reached for her.
"Sophie—"
She pulled away from me.
Eyes blazing.
"Who are you? You're just the nice man! You don't get to touch me! I want my mommy! I want my mommy to stay!"
Clara looked at me.
Heartbroken.
Nodded for me to continue.
"Sophie," I said softly.
"There's more. I'm not just the nice man. My name is Michael. Michael Harrison. And... I'm your father."
The effect was instant.
She froze.
Stopped crying.
Stared at me.
"You're lying," she said.
Her voice was ice.
"I don't have a daddy. Mommy said he went away."
"I didn't go away," I said.
"I just didn't know. I didn't know about you until yesterday. But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere. Ever."
Sophie looked at her mother.
"Is it true? Is he really my daddy?"
Clara nodded through her tears.
"It's true, baby. He is. And he's going to take care of you now. He's going to love you like I do. Like you deserve."
Sophie looked from one of us to the other.
Betrayal warring with confusion on her face.
Then she did the worst thing possible.
She went completely still.
Quiet.
Her eyes went dead.
"I hate you," she whispered.
To both of us.
Then she jumped off the bed.
Ran out the door.
"Sophie!" I yelled.
I ran after her.
But she was fast.
Five years old and filled with adrenaline.
She was around the corner before I could get out the door.
I ran down the hallway.
Past nurses.
Past patients.
"Sophie!"
She was gone.
The elevator doors were closing.
I saw her small face through the crack.
May you like
Eyes empty.
And then she was gone.
