Page 70 of Make You Stay

A year. One lousy year is all the time we have left with Enid? That’s not possible.

I won’t accept that truth.

“Let’s get a second opinion.”

“We have,” Jeff states, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Enid.

“A third, then. A fourth. Hell, get a dozen opinions.” With each word, my voice increases in volume. Perhaps if I yell loud enough, God might hear me.

“Aidan, we’ve gotten the opinions. They all suck.” Enid wipes away a few tears, reaching out to grasp my hand.

“Shit, Enid. This doesn’t work without you.” And then I engulf them both in an embrace because I don’t know what else to do. What else to say.

There’s no way to accept the woman I’ve spent most of my life loving is dying. Our daughters are six, eleven, and sixteen. They need their mom for everything.

I can’t wrap my head around the idea that Enid won’t be there for their weddings, the birth of their children, their graduations, for God’s sake.

I frame her face with my hands, gazing into the blue eyes I know so well. “What do you want to tell the girls?”

“The truth. I don’t want to keep this from them. Our girls are too smart for that nonsense, and besides, each day now is a gift. I was hoping we could tell them today and then do something as a family. Ice skating, maybe. I want to continue to have fun until I can’t anymore.” She chokes out the last part, overcome by tears.

With a resigned sigh, I nod and try to make myself look presentable before I walk into the house, Enid and Jeff at my heels.

Enid is right. Our girls are far too intelligent. Natalie takes one look at our reddened eyes and starts shaking her head, the sobs already escaping her throat.

Poor Mia has no idea what’s going on, but Emily senses the energy, walking over and grasping her mother’s hands while offering a somber smile.

It’s the worst moment of my life, watching the agony cross over my daughters’ faces as we tell them about their mother’s diagnosis. Never in my life have I felt so helpless. As a parent, you strive to protect your kids from every hurt in this world, but there’s no protecting them from this.

And the girls are a mixed bag of emotions, ranging from anger to belligerence to denial—all in the space of a few moments.

Can’t say I blame them. I feel the same way.

After explaining the severity of Enid’s illness, Natalie dashes upstairs, slamming her door.

I wish Chloe was here.

The thought hits fast, remembering how she lovingly coaxed my daughter out of her room, making her smile when her heart was broken over a boy.

This time, Natalie’s heart reallyisbroken, and she needs Chloe’s gentle love more than ever.

We all do.

But Chloe is gone. I made sure of it. I sent away the woman I love because she wanted a baby with me. She loved me enough to want a baby with me, and I shot her down, even throwing in a few insults for good measure.

Now, the one woman who could help hold this ragtag pack together is hundreds of miles away, and I don’t know what I could say to convince her to give me another chance.

My family needs her.

Ineed her.

I don’t think I can do this without her, and I sure as hell don’t want to try.

Enid spends a half-hour upstairs with Natalie before they both walk downstairs, eyes red and skin blotchy.

“We are going to have fun. Do you hear me?” Enid states, her voice surprisingly forceful. “That is enough tears for one day. I want laughter for the rest of it.”

On that note, we head to the ice rink, determined to do Enid’s bidding.

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