twists painfully behind my ribs, a sensation I’m becoming quite accustomed to. “I’m not sure that would be the wisest thing. I mean, you’re supposed to be on bed-rest.”
“But I haven’t bled since I got back from the hospital.” She pauses, concern crinkling her brow. “Have I?”
Another stab to my chest. Lena knows that she loses pieces of time. And she knows why. When she’s lucid, she becomes aware of how sometimes whole days have passed that she can’t remember. She knows what’s going on. That’s undoubtedly why she wants to see her mother. And why she had to ask if she’s been bleeding.
“No,” I confirm softly, my voice perceptibly choked. “No, you haven’t bled any more.”
“Then maybe we could make the trip?” Her whiskey eyes are hopeful.
“Let’s check with both docs first.” Lena nods, but is obviously deflated, so I add, “If not, then maybe I could bring her here. I’m sure they’d let her out for the day. With me. For this.”
“Thank you, my love.”
“Anything for you,” I reply, caressing the silken arch of her cheekbone. And I mean it. Anything, anything at all for her.
I’m reminded of the way she organizes and tidies things when she’s at her most confused. This effort to see her mother is probably part of her process of getting her life in order—making peace with the woman who gave up on her.
I resolve to make the reunion happen, by hook or crook. I want my wife to have whatever makes her happy, whatever will ease her heart and mind, even if that means her spending time with her mother.
We fall silent after that, each lost in thought as the setting sun bathes us in the golden glow of day’s end. We watch as the sky fades from bright orange to deep, royal blue.
It’s Lena’s keen eye that catches the first glimmer of a different light.
“Nate!” She sits up so suddenly, it startles me.
“What? What’s wrong?” Every muscle in my body is instantly straining beneath my skin, prepared for action.
“Go get a Mason jar! Quick!”
For a few seconds, it’s me who is confused. But then, I notice her expression, open and excited, and follow her eyes to where she’s looking. A single firefly is blinking off and on as it makes its way into our backyard. I probably never would’ve noticed it, but Lena spotted it right away.
“Okay, hang on,” I tell Lena, trying to maneuver myself out from under her without unseating her. When I manage to untangle myself, I make my way quickly into the kitchen, flinging open cabinet doors, looking for a Mason jar, but having zero luck. That’s when I hear her voice waft in from the patio. “Look in the pantry,” she instructs.
I spin on my heel and head for the pantry, flicking on the light and spotting a single empty Mason jar on the top shelf in the corner. I think I remember Nissa bringing us homemade strawberry jam in it last year.
On my way back outside, I pause at the counter only long enough to use the tip of a steak knife to poke holes in the lid. With that done, I grab my phone from the charger and go back outside.
Lena is sitting upright in the lounger, her pregnant belly touching the chair between her spread thighs. She reminds me of a beautiful blonde Buddha.
Impulsively, I turn on my phone, raise it to find her on the screen, and snap a picture. I know without a doubt that I’ll go back and look at it often. Something about her face is magic. Pure magic.
Then I look up and see our yard.
My mouth drops open.
There are lightning bugs everywhere. Dozens and dozens of them, flickering on and off in a haphazard display of their talent. It’s as if they’re showing off their brightly-lit bellies in a performance just for Lena.
I approach her with the jar. My first thought is she shouldn’t be up running around the backyard in the dark. It seems that she’s thinking the same thing when she turns to me and says, “Go catch a few, and I’ll film you. I doubt I should be up darting around the yard.”
To see this light in her eyes, on her face, and know that she can’t even fully enjoy this simple ritual feels too much like fate sticking a dagger in and twisting it. Even the little things are too much for her now.
With a smile I hope is agreeable rather than as bittersweet as