Into the Inferno - Earl Emerson [89]
“Oh, I see,” Lillian said, raising her eyebrows to imply she certainly saw everything.
By the time they’d left, it was too late to make anymore calls. The girls and I started another Monopoly tournament. These would be among my last evenings with them, and I wanted to do whatever they wanted. As we played, we could hear Stephanie in the other room, alternately on the phone and then on the computer. Frankly, I was too exhausted to help. Turning into a half-wit was fatiguing. When it was time to get ready for bed, Allyson showed Stephanie a toiletry kit that included a new toothbrush she’d conned Grandpa into buying by intimating that she didn’t have one of her own. No wonder they wanted to take the girls away from me.
Physically run-down almost to the point of collapse, I’d showered hastily and crawled into bed. Stephanie followed me and bedded down on top of my covers like a cat. You had to admire the confidence with which she addressed our relationship. We talked for a few minutes and then, in the middle of a sentence, I nodded off.
Couldn’t stop myself.
“Aren’t you ever going to wake up?” Allyson asked, sitting on her knees beside me. Britney was cross-legged on my stomach. It was morning.
“I’m getting up.”
“You always wake us up,” Britney said.
“Well, I thought I’d make you feel important, let you get me up for a few days.”
“We’re already the most important things in your life. You always tell us that,” Britney said.
“You sure are, honey.”
“Can we get Stephanie some clothes from the spare bedroom?” Allyson asked. “That way Steph won’t have to drive all the way back to Tacoma.”
“I thought you were saving your mother’s clothes.”
“Mom will never know.”
“Sure.”
In the blink of an eye she was gone. Still sitting on my stomach, Britney looked me over carefully. I bounced her up and down with my breathing, but she wasn’t in a mood for play. “Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Does TB make you die?”
“TB? You mean tuberculosis?”
“I guess.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Do you have TB?”
I sat up, the movement tumbling her over backward. When she’d righted herself, I held her hands and said, “No. Of course not. Why do you ask?”
“Because Ben told somebody you have a com . . . communicable disease. When I asked Grandma what that was, she said it was like TB.”
“You didn’t tell Grandma I had a communicable disease, did you?”
“I don’t think so.”
Stephanie was staring at me soberly.
“I don’t have TB.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. Why don’t you go help Allyson pick out something for Stephanie?”
After Britney left, Stephanie said, “You’re going to have to tell them.”
“I’ve got three days.”
“You leave without saying anything, they’re going to be hurt for the rest of their lives.”
“I know that, but you don’t have to see the look in their eyes. I do. I’ve already done this once. Remember, I’m the one who had to tell them their mother wasn’t coming back.”
Stephanie walked to the door, then turned back to me. “I thought you weren’t going to wake up.”
“This is day five,” I said, realizing my vision hadn’t cleared yet. That my left ear was ringing. “I guess I don’t have three days, do I? Only two.”
You can’t believe how scared I was. “If we don’t beat this . . . I’m going to be . . .”
“I know.”
While Stephanie was in the shower, Allyson came into the room, draping a flower-patterned dress over her shoulder. “How’s this?”
“Very summery.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Are we going to live with Grandma and Grandpa?”
“No, dear.”
“They said we were.”
“They say that every year.”
“I don’t want to live with them.”
I had to think about what I was going to say next, because Wes and Lillian, once they found out how sick I was, wouldn’t stop until they had custody of my girls. I’d delayed thinking about this, and now that I couldn’t avoid it, it was almost too much to process. I could live my life as a vegetable. I could die. I was growing accustomed to the thought of either.
What I could not grow accustomed to was the thought of Wes and Lillian raising my daughters. I’d been dealing with it by not thinking about it, but putting my head in the sand wasn