Page 112 of Keeping the Score

Then Benny laughs. “That’s brilliant. There you go. Be the fucking shark. The great white. Go after what you want.”

“Yeah.” I lift my chin and push my shoulders back. I’m wasted, but determination calms me. Focuses me. I’ve spent my whole life going after what I want. I’m not stopping now. Not when the most important thing in my life is on the line…

Love.

32

ANDI

I’m in Ford’s kitchen, getting things ready for his week. I’ve checked his schedule and know what days he has games and practices. I’ve looked at his planner and know he has a visit to a children’s hospital on Wednesday afternoon. I’ve texted all that to Lieve. I’ve cooked a big batch of quinoa that he can use for meals, and I’ve cut up a lot of healthy veggies for roasting, for game days.

All the while, there’s a hard pulse in my stomach and a massive fissure in my chest.

Tilly’s on the floor nearby, sitting in her baby seat, playing with toys and squealing at a high pitch. She’s dressed in a little blue dress so she looks nice for her dad when he gets home. I look over at her. I don’t know what’s happening. Should I pack up her things?

The pressure behind my eyes intensifies as I move across the room and look at all her toys and books. I pick up one of several diaper bags and begin filling it with her favorite toys. Then I move to the bedroom to gather some of her lotions and shampoos, wipes and diaper rash cream. I pick up her little hairbrush… and that’s when I break down.

I sit on the bed with the hairbrush in my hands, tears running down my cheeks. I have to get a grip. I have to be strong.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” I sob aloud, swiping at tears.

I know this has to happen. It’s Tilly’s mother. I was angry for Tilly when Willa left her here. She needs her mother. I’ll miss her, but I’ll survive. I have to let her go so she can have what she really needs. I need to be strong and handle this like a big girl.

But God, ithurts.

Images churn through my mind, so many of Tilly: her laughing, smiling, babbling—the adorable way she grabs the toes of both feet. Her splashing in the tub, trying to roll over and then doing it, falling over when she first started sitting. Ford with his hand under her butt holding her up in the air with one hand to stop her crying. Wrapping her in a blanket by rolling her over rather than wrapping the blanket around her. Singing “Baby Shark” to her in a completely off-tone, high-pitched voice and her cracking up.

Another sob escapes my lips.

But I have those memories. I will always have them and I’ll always be grateful for the time I had with her. Getting to know Tilly has changed me. And the most important thing is for her to be happy and healthy and loved.

Tilly is getting louder and protesting being alone, so I get up and go back to the living room. I sit down on the floor in front of her and smile through my tears. “I love you, Tilly. I’ll miss you so much. But I want you to be happy. I want that most of all.”

The door opens and closes.

My head whips around. It’s too early for Ford to be back.

But it’s him. He walks in, handsome as always—other than the lines of strain on his face—stylish in black pants and a black and white tweed coat. When he sees Tilly and me, his strained expression softens, and his lips quirk. “Hi.”

Then he notices my wet face. The smile disappears, his forehead creasing, his eyes shadowing, and he strides toward us and crouches down.

“What’s wrong?” he demands. “Why are you crying?”

I slide the back of my hand across my cheek. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I just started crying and I c-can’t stop.”

“What’s wrong?” He sets his hands on my shoulders.

I cry harder.

“Badadadaba!” Tilly cries.

With a frustrated smile, he turns and reaches for her, lifting her out of the seat. “Hi, baby girl. Did you miss me?” He stands, holding her up in front of his face. She babbles happily. Then he cuddles her against him and closes his eyes. “I love you, Tilly. More than I ever thought I could.”

Heat and light expand in my chest, a glowing fullness.

“Gabadada aaaaaayeeee.”

“I missed you, too. Can I talk to Andi for a minute?”

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