It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,88

my hand. “Thank you so much. You are like an angel.”

“No,” I say with a sad laugh. “I am the furthest thing from an angel you will ever meet.” But I have an overwhelming sense of completion as I stand to leave and the humming fades away. “I didn’t do anything but bring in coffee.”

Her smile, though still sad, also has a hint of hope. “You did so much more than that. You have the gift of wisdom.”

I laugh, in spite of the situation. “Maybe you should tell my parents that.”

“I’m sure they already know.”

And with that, the sun darts behind the clouds and the room darkens. Our moment is over. Neither one of us knows what to say. I leave the room, wagon in tow, and just as I close the door, I hear her crying softly and telling James how much she loves him.

Is this what Madeline’s mom and dad went through every time she went into the hospital? I pull out my phone and dial one of the few numbers I know by heart.

“Mom. What are you and Dad doing for dinner?”

Chapter 36

The twenty miles home drags on forever.

“You sure you don’t want to hang out a little longer?” Daniel asks as we pull up to my house. I can hear the sadness in his voice and as much as I want to make him feel better, I know time is the only thing that can do that. Besides, I have my own issues to deal with.

I shake my head. “I really should spend time with my parents,” I say. “You know how protective they’ve been since …”

Daniel gets it. His parents are the same way, which is probably why he doesn’t want to go home. He hates it when they hover. But after meeting James’s mom, I get it. Parents feel as helpless as we do in these situations.

“Look. We’ll get coffee in the morning. I doubt anyone’s going to care if we ditch school.”

“Okay,” he says reluctantly. “Coffee in the morning. I’ll pick you up.”

I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “See you then.” I reach for the handle and am about to step out of the car when he grabs my hand. I look down first at it and then at his face. “Daniel, what’s wrong?”

The tears are streaming down his face. “I don’t want to go to sleep,” he cries. I turn back to embrace him.

“Shhh,” I say, trying to comfort him. “How long has it been?”

“Since I slept?” he asks, but his head is pressing against my shoulder and it comes out in a muffle. I nod. “Not since the day she died. I mean, I’ve taken naps when I can’t hold out any longer, but at night …” His voice breaks off in a sob. “I’m afraid I’ll start to forget her.”

I force him to look at me. “That will never happen. No matter how much time passes or how long it takes for your memory to conjure the image of her face, this”—I point to his chest, just above his heart—“this will never forget her. She’ll always be there. She’s a part of you. She’s a part of both of us.”

“It’s not fair!” he yells, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. “It sucks.”

I nod. “No, it’s not fair. And you’re right. It totally sucks.”

“But we’ll get over it, right?” he says bitterly.

I think carefully about how to answer him. Finally, with a sigh, I say, “No. I don’t think we’ll ever get over it. I never got over Grams and she was old. But somehow, in time, we’ll learn to get through it.”

“I hope so. I don’t think I can live with the pain forever.” Daniel wipes his eyes with the cuff of his shirt. “You better go. Your parents are already peeking out at us through the curtain.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll be alright. Just promise me you won’t bail on me tomorrow. I can’t face everyone at school without you there to stare them down.”

I stick out my hand. Slowly, he takes it in his own. “Deal.”

After a quick hug, I get out of the car and walk swiftly up the steep lawn toward the bright porch light of my house.

“I’m home!” I call out as I enter, dropping my purse and jacket on the floor. The smell of my mom’s famous sweet and sour chicken makes my mouth water and I head straight to the kitchen where I find my parents, heads