Meet Cute(9)

“Ah, kiddo, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“But they might still be here. They might not be gone—” She breaks down again, as she’s done so many times over the past few days. She uses her stuffed llama’s feet to wipe her tears away. She looks so young, like the little girl whose scrapes I sometimes bandaged so many years ago. But I can’t cover this wound with a Band-Aid. It’s just too deep.

I want to tell her to try not to think about it, to just remember the good things, but Emme is like me in this regard. She can’t stop thinking about it, and not talking isn’t going to help her. I brush her hair away from her face—something I’ve seen my mother do a million times. I wish I had the right words and my mother’s soft hug to make it better.

“They could’ve stopped at a coffee shop on the way to the freeway, Em. If they’d been one minute either way, it could’ve been someone else and not them. It’s not your fault.”

“I just want them back. I want to wake up and I want them to be here and I want this to just be a really bad dream.”

“I know. Me, too.”

I let her cry, because I don’t know what else to do. When there are no more tears, she asks in a meek voice if I’ll stay until she falls asleep. I pull the beanbag chair next to her bed and settle in.

I wake up at midnight with a stiff back. Emme is fast asleep. Thank God. She’s been up the past couple of nights with bad dreams, and I stay with her until she falls asleep again. I tiptoe out of her room and down the hall, desperate not to disturb her.

I’m exhausted, but now that I’m awake, my brain is in motion. Tomorrow the lawyer is coming to read the will. He knew my dad personally, so the house call is out of respect for him and our family. There’s so much paperwork to go through, and my mind has been scattered. I decide it might be best to review some of it before Thomas arrives in the morning so that I’m somewhat prepared. Especially where Emme and custody are concerned.

Light seeps out from the crack at the bottom of my dad’s office door. I don’t remember leaving it on when I was in there earlier. Aunt Linda jumps when I push it open to peek inside. She’s been staying with us during the funeral arrangements, which has been helpful, sort of. She has a habit of coming in and taking over, which can be hard to handle.

“Oh! Daxton, you scared me. I didn’t realize you were still awake.” She puts the files she’s holding into the drawer of my dad’s desk.

“What’re you doing?”

“Just tidying up. There’s going to be a lot to sort out in the next few weeks.” Her smile is sympathetic. “It’s a big job, going through this house. Craig and Evelyn have been here since before you were born. Have you thought about how you’re going to manage that?”

“I guess it all depends on what the will says.” I assume the house is going to me or eventually to Emme once she’s old enough, but I won’t know for sure until tomorrow. So many things are up in the air until then.

“Of course. So much to consider. Well, I should be going to bed. We have an early morning what with reading the will and all.” She crosses the room, her hand resting on my shoulder. “You should get some sleep. You’ll need a clear head.”

She moves to the hall, and turns around again, as if she’s waiting for me to leave the office. I’m foggy and suddenly exhausted all over again by the thought of making sense of all this paperwork.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I close the door to the office and follow her up the stairs, heading down the hall to my teenage bedroom, wondering what tomorrow will look like.





In the morning, I get dressed on autopilot and end up in a suit out of habit. I find Emme in the kitchen, making herself a fruit smoothie—with ice cream. It’s early, but I let it slide. Her appetite hasn’t been great the past few days, so if she wants ice cream first thing in the morning, she can have it.

Thomas arrives promptly at ten and pulls me into a hug, patting my back and murmuring his condolences. He’s far more formal with Linda, but no less pleasant. He turns a soft smile on Emme and comments on how much she looks like our mother, which makes her teary. I put an arm around her and hug her to my side.

“Why don’t we do this in the dining room, where we can be comfortable?” I suggest.

I just want to get through this so we can move forward. I feel like we’re all trapped in a state of limbo, waiting for our new realities to begin.

We settle in the dining room, and Thomas begins by reviewing the breakdown of assets. The house is mine—which I anticipated, and everything else is split between me and Emme. Financially, my parents’ accounts are divided in Emme’s favor because I already have a boatload of money that I’ve managed well so far, thanks to my parents’ guidance.

“Dax, you’ll have power of attorney over Emme’s accounts and the funds your parents have allocated to support her. It appears your parents have given you some leeway so you can make adjustments based on need, but in addition to the social security checks, which should be significant, you’ll also get an allowance each month for care and expenses.”

“I’m sorry, maybe I’m confused, but how can Daxton have power of attorney if I’m the legal guardian? How effective is that if I have to ask him to approve every single financial decision that might benefit Emme’s future?” Linda asks.