It Started with a Kiss

“You tell me. Is it too late for us to start over?”

The question throws me off-kilter. I wasn’t expecting to see her, much less deal with our issues in a public confrontation this morning. And before coffee.

I’d love to give her an answer right now, to lighten the burden even if she is the one who saddled it around herself. I just don’t know if I’m in a place to do that just yet.

“I need to go because I want to be the first visitor to see him. But I’ll think about what you said and that you made the effort to be here.”

She stands and comes to me. “Can I hug you?”

“Yes, I’d like that.” We embrace, and at that moment, I have clarity. “Everybody deserves a second chance, but don’t blow it.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

I start walking again but stop once more and turn back. “Will you be here later?”

“No, honey. I won’t.” She sounds more unsure than she’s ever been, but I believe her words. “Life can be hard sometimes, Marlow. No matter what happens, make sure you can stand on your own. Because you’ll end up alone with nothing.”

I think she needs to work on her words of wisdom. We part ways, and I cross the street to return to the hospital. This time, I check and then go to the waiting room until my name is called.

It’s eight o’clock, and I stand to go check in with the nurses at the main desk again. “Can I see him?”

“Let’s get you back there quickly,” the nurse says, coming around the desk. “We’re about to take him into surgery, but I think it’ll be good for him to see you.”

We rush down the hall on a mission. She’s giving me an overview of his condition, but I’ll have to wait to talk to the doctor to get the details. When she opens the door, she lets me enter, and then says, “He needs to remain calm.”

“I’ll make sure he does.”

As soon as the door closes, I hurry to his bedside and take hold of his hand. Memories of when he would take me to movie sets come flooding back. We would walk around holding hands while he introduced me to everyone. He was as proud as a peacock back then.

Not much about his hand has changed other than the size of mine tucked inside it. His eyes slowly open, and when he sees me, he says, “Marlow?”

“I’m here,” I say, pushing all the pain away and focusing on this moment instead.

He cracks a smile. “They’re not letting me out of this place today.”

“No. You’re going into surgery shortly, but I’ll be here waiting for you to return.”

“You always were a good girl.” This time, there’s a pause. I’m not sure if he’s thirsty or thinking about other things. I can’t help him because he can’t have water before surgery, and I don’t know how to fix his problems or heal him. I just know how to be here.

A nurse comes in, greeting both of us as she starts prepping him.

Our time is winding down, so I say, “I’ll be waiting. I’ll be here until you’re out, and then I’ll come see you. Okay?” I get choked up, and tears start filling my eyes.

I’m about to take a step back, but his hand tightens. “Just in case I don’t make it—”

“You’ll make it. For me, you’ll fight. Will you fight for me?” I know what I was asking, but the double meaning feels right to ask of him now.

I’m not granted the words or promise, just a hand squeeze in return before he says, “My legal team protected your trust fund since it was never opened, and I was only a secondary beneficiary.” Shock comes in many forms, but for me, I’m standing here speechless. His other hand covers mine, and he adds, “It’s available to you to claim, so you can have the money and start over on your own terms.”

My own terms? I’m not even sure what that is anymore or what that means for Jackson and me. There’s so much to sort through.

My mom’s words bobbing around my head don’t make it any easier to determine.

The nurse looks at me and then nods once. “You’ll have to return to the waiting room, ma’am. We’re on a very tight schedule.”

I lean in and kiss his cheek. “I love you, Dad.”

Now he’s the one with tears in his eyes. “I love you, too, Marlow.”

I walk through the sliding doors. I have hours to worry about him and don’t know where to go. In the small garden by the corner of the hospital, I sit on a bench and stare up at the blue sky that reminds me of Jackson’s eyes.

“Is this seat taken?”

I look over to see him sitting down beside me. “I’m saving it.”