Page 8 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
It had a ramp out front and enough wheelchair accessibility that she could access the entire first floor without leaving her chair. The upstairs was a bit more complicated, but I had a lot of connections even outside of shifters, so I’d had a top-of-the-line stairlift installed for whenever she was too weak to walk up herself. Which, toward the end of her life, was more often than not.
I preferred to carry her, though, ignoring how much thinner and more fragile she had grown, and instead pretending we were a newlywed couple all over again. Inevergrew tired of carrying her like that. Or touching her. Or just being in her presence. The world was a darker place without her.
None of that now,I reminded myself sternly. Some days it was so difficult to ignore the gaping wound in my chest, but I’d promised my wife I wouldn’t wallow, so I wasn’t going to wallow. It was the least I could do for her. The girls and I had gone to counseling for a year, where I’d processed my grief, and that was that. The therapist told us we’d made immense progress and didn’t need to attend biweekly anymore, so we were down to quarterly check-ins individually or as a family, or any emergency spots we might need if something triggered one of us.
But so far, no triggers, no signs of PTSD. Just regular old grief. Granted, what was regular about losing the love of your life or a mother?
“Daddy, you okay down there?”
I glanced up the stairs. Eva stood on the landing, a stuffed unicorn under one arm. Jeez, I had really zoned out, hadn’t I?
“Yeah, baby, just thinkin’.” Although I didn’t really have the thicker accent that some of my relatives did, it often slipped in at the end of my words when I was very tired or very happy.
“Thinkin’ ’bout what?”
Although both my children were incredibly mature for their age, I saw no reason to burden them with even more. They’dalready gone through something no child should have to go through, so I had absolutely zero desire to add to it.
“Oh you know, stuff.”
“Stuff ‘n’ things?”
“Stuff ‘n’ things, baby girl.”
“Do you need more time for the stuff ‘n’ things?”
“Nah. I got more important things to spend my time on.”
“Likeme?” Eva asked, raising her hand into the air and striking a little diva pose. She could be a little reserved around others, but goodness, sometimes she was quite the firecracker. Yet another way she took after her mother. Apparently, when Zara was a kid, a lot of people thought she was mute. Which was wild to think about, considering she and I had spent literal years of our lives just talking to each other until our voices were hoarse.
I was incredibly lucky that they trusted me enough to be so comfortable around me. I’d never take that for granted.
“Like you!” I ran up the stairs at full speed. I couldn’t often express my shifter side in the suburbs, but in the safety of my own home, I could indulge in some of it.
I was up at Eva’s face-level in about a second. She let out a happy cry and wrapped her arms around my neck, so her feet dangled in the air as I took the last few steps onto the landing. Turning, I saw Addy standing in the hallway, looking at us with staged horror.
“I will save you, sister!” she cried before launching herself at me.
I let out a dramaticoooph!and half collapsed to my knees, making sure to hold Eva steady. Addy yelled in triumph while Eva laughed, and I fell to the side so they could swarm me.
My daughters were too smart for their own good, though. They knew they couldn’t actually win a fight with their old man, so the next thing I knew, they were tickling me.
“No fair!” I cried, trying to keep from flailing as one of them went for my foot and the other under my armpit. The last thing I wanted to do was lash out accidentally, which was liable to happen when tickling was involved.
“All’s fair in love and war,” Addy said, parking herself cross-legged on my chest and tickling around my neck. I wasn’t very ticklish there, but Eva was going after my feet like she had a vendetta against me. I’d forgotten how sensitive they could be!
“Oh yeah?” I challenged.
“Yeah!”
“Well, if that’s the case…” Wrapping one arm around her back so she wouldn’t fall, I sat up, which scared Eva away from my feet. I stood, flipping Addy upside down. Eva giggled and clapped her hands.
“Do you surrender?” I declared, really laying on the drama. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise that my girls were interested in chorus and musical theater.
“Never!” Addy cried, fake-pummeling my shins. “I will never surrender!”
“Then meet your doom!”
I began to walk toward the girls’ room, gently swinging my upside-down daughter, her upper body swaying from side to side. She gave up on reaching behind her to bat at my legs, and instead tried to grab onto doorways as we went along.
