Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I sat there for a few seconds, completely pitiful, before I did my business.
My panties were the only thing I could manage to get up, and even those were a struggle.
He came back moments after I got them in place, and then helped me walk to the sink.
“Do you want to wash your face or anything?”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
My startled question had him grinning. “Nothing. Just know you are a girl, and you’ve been in the hospital for the last eight days. Wasn’t sure how much cleaning you got done.”
I had nothing to say to that.
“A sponge bath courtesy of the aide,” I mumbled. “I’d love to wipe it down, though. Amongst other things.”
He nodded and looked around, spotting the washcloths that were on the shelf above the toilet. Grabbing three, he turned on the sink and started to run hot water. Once he had it where he wanted it, he pulled the stopper up and blocked off the drain, allowing it to fill.
About the time that he would’ve turned it off, we both heard a very loud, “Da!”
Dante grinned. “Be right back.”
He was gone seconds later, and I heard him plodding down the stairs, then his happy voice saying, “Hey, girl.”
I turned off the water and stared at myself in the mirror.
I’d never have that. I’d never have a kid to call my own. One who I would talk to like I’d missed her for however long she’d been asleep. I wouldn’t be able to have kids. Not with this cancer crap I had. I couldn’t trust that I’d live long enough to make it through the majority of my kid’s life.
With shaky hands, I dunked the cloths into the sink and then reached for the pump soap.
Just as I’d gotten two squirts into the water, Dante reappeared, with Mary in his arms.
My heart completely melted, and I straightened…then immediately regretted it.
Tears burned my eyes as I took a deep breath, which also fuckin’ hurt.
I remained still as I closed my eyes and waited for the wave of pain to recede.
“You have two more hours until you can take any more meds,” he said apologetically. “But I can help you get cleaned up.”
I nodded, swallowed thickly, and then opened my eyes.
Dante sat Mary on the floor, then turned around and closed the door.
Mary immediately went to the toilet, and Dante closed it. “No, ma’am.”
Mary gave him a look that said she was clearly not pleased with his refusal to allow her to play in the toilet.
“Here.”
Then Dante handed her his phone, and I watched in amazement as she opened it, pulled up her favorite app, and then started to play.
“Wow,” I breathed. “She’s better than me.”
Dante chuckled as he walked up to me. “The girl is pretty damn amazing.”
I smiled softly and reached for the wet cloth that was submerged in the sink.
“I’ll do it.” He stilled my hand. “Let’s get the shirt off first, though.”
Before I could protest—again—he had the buttons halfway undone.
Loss so great it was debilitating had me speaking up this time, though.
“I don’t…” I started to shiver. “I don’t want to look!”
He paused.
I could see the gauze that was wrapped around my chest, and I really, really didn’t want to see anymore.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered as he moved me to sit on the counter.
I did, unable to help the fear that poured through me, and gave myself that out.
He could look if it meant that I didn’t have to.
I knew that eventually I’d have to, but the time for me to do that wasn’t right now.
Maybe tomorrow or the next day, but I just didn’t have it in me today.
The shirt came off the rest of the way, and he gingerly removed it from my arms, keeping my movements as shallow and slow as he could make them.
He did the rest of the work, gently pulling it off my body and tossing it somewhere on the floor.
I could hear the beeps and blips from Mary’s phone, and I opened my eyes to look at her, being sure not to look down.
“I don’t see Marianne in her at all,” I whispered.
Dante grunted. “Looks just like my kiddos used to.”
A pang of sadness washed over me at the knowledge that this man in front of me had lost his children. I wished I knew more, but to know more, I’d have to ask him. I wasn’t sure asking him was the right thing to do. It was obvious that it was still raw, so I chose not to say anything about his other children. Instead, I focused on Mary and Marianne.
“Marianne’s son, the one who died, looked nothing like Marianne, either. It was funny because I always used to joke with her that the hospital had switched the baby at birth with hers. He had dark blonde hair, steel blue eyes, and shared absolutely none of her features. Though, he also didn’t look much like Drake, either.”