I'm replaying her words in my mind as the coconut scent hits my nostrils. It's in my bed; it's in my clothes, it's on my skin. It's soaked in my scarf after that last embrace and the pouring rain isn't enough to wash it away. My long strides are bringing me back to reality, and I'm doing my best to keep it together. By the time I get home, I'm a piece of paper crumbled on the floor, but I leave my anger outside.
Amanda's silhouette greets me as I catch a glimpse of the showbiz she’s been watching lately. The number of chores she has to do around here has significantly dropped nowadays, especially since the last hospital visit. But I keep her anyway, Emily likes her, and I don't mind the company.
But I don’t even bother with small talk today; I need to hit the shower right away. My legs want to give up and seem heavier with each step I take, but I keep going. I walk past Emily's door, and the smile she wears on her sleep is enough to blur the tubes and the machines from the scene. She's beautiful, even this broken.
I make my way to the master bedroom, and it's as chaotic as my mind appears to be, but I don't care anymore. I just need to rinse her smell off me, although I know there is not enough soap in the world to wash her off my existence.
The steam fills the bathroom quickly, and my muscles are eager to relax. I shiver under the hot water as a supercut plays in my head again and the realization hits me. She left.
She fucking left. And yet, she’s everywhere.
The pillow on the empty side of our bed still has her shape, and if you look closely, gold strains of hair paint the linen sheets. I can see her in Emily’s eyes, on her cheekbones, and her little hands. She’s everywhere and nowhere at all. She’s a ghost, and we are a house she doesn’t want to haunt anymore.
She says motherhood didn't suit her; that it wasn't what she expected. It wasn’t how I pictured it either. I didn't think I would be asking myself if they made coffins small enough to fit a four-year-old. I didn’t see myself crying my youth away with every doctor’s appointment gone wrong. I didn’t fucking expect fatherhood to hurt this much, but I’m still here, aren’t I?
I didn’t run because the pain suddenly became too much to bear. I’m still here. You will find me by her side when she takes her last breath, and even after that, I'll still be here like an abandoned dog waiting for his family to turn the car around.
I'm staying because the feeling I experienced when I hold her in my arms for the first time makes up for the pain that came afterward. I will always be here because these walls contain my best, and my worst, years of my life.
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