by Lauren Rowe
“Little Miss Sunshine,” Josh says softly, stroking Marisol’s miniature leg. “Little Miss Sunshine Faraday.”
I can’t help but smile. “Little Miss Sunshine Faraday,” I repeat. I can’t imagine a more perfect name for her.
Josh exhales. “Well, man, it’s official. The Faraday men are hopelessly outnumbered. I’m having this mental image of you, me, and Uncle William standing on a desert island, surrounded by an endless sea of estrogen.”
I grin. I didn’t know my mouth was still capable of turning up, but apparently it is.
“I foresee a helluva lot of pink and purple in our future.”
“No, not purple,” I say adamantly. “Purple is strictly prohibited in my house.”
Josh chuckles. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” He snickers. “You pervert.” There’s a long beat as he strokes Marisol’s arm. “Looks like we’re gonna need to buy a couple more pairs of pink sparkle-boots, huh?”
Right on cue, Luna kicks her little thighs wildly.
“‘Pink sparkie boots!’” Josh says, speaking for Luna. “Yippee!”‘
I can’t help but smile again.
“We’re so screwed,” Josh says.
I look down at Luna and my heart pangs and twists in my chest. Oh my God, is this pain—or is it pleasure? Whatever it is, it’s an overwhelming sensation.
“I already love them,” I say softly. “More than I thought possible.”
Josh shoots me a crooked smile. “Welcome to fatherhood, bro. Isn’t it fun?”
“Oh, yeah—so far, fatherhood’s an effing blast.” I touch Luna’s toes and she flinches under my touch—and, all of a sudden, I want nothing but to feel her tiny body pressed against my chest. “When will we be allowed to hold them?” I ask the nearby nurse.
“As soon as they’re off the ventilators. Hopefully, no more than a few days—maybe even tomorrow. Their lungs seem to be doing pretty well.”
“Yeah, the doctor told us,” Josh says. “That’s great news.” Josh looks down at Marisol. “You and your sister are little beasts, aren’t you, Little Miss Sunshine?”
“Switch with me, Josh. I don’t want Sunshine to think I don’t love her, too.”
He nods and we trade incubators.
“Hi, baby,” I say, stroking Marisol’s soft feet. “Little Miss Sunshine.” She strains toward my touch and my heart leaps and pangs exactly the way it did when I was touching Luna.
“Hi, Luna,” Josh whispers, laying his large hand on her tiny chest. “Nice to meet you, Crazy Monkey. I’m your Uncle Josh.”
“Oh no,” I say. “Tit for tat. I’m gonna make them call you something horrific like Uncle Joshie-Woshie.”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Oh, hell yes. Karma’s a bitch, motherfucker.”
The nurse behind us clears her throat.
“Oh. Sorry,” I say.
“Joke’s on you. They won’t be able to say that, anyway. It’ll come out like Unkie Jshwshsh.”
“Oh no, we’ll work with them every single day ’til they get it exactly right,” I say. And the minute those fantastical words leave my mouth, my heart wrenches in my chest like I’m being stabbed with a rusty blade. Why am I letting myself envision a future in which Sarah and I happily teach our toddlers to say “Uncle Joshie Woshie”? I swallow hard, but I can’t keep tears from pooling in my eyes.
Sarah.
“She’s gonna be okay,” Josh says, reading my mind. “Sarah’s the strongest person I know.”
I blink back my tears. “If she doesn’t pull through,” I whisper, but I can’t finish the sentence.
Josh’s jaw muscles pulse. “She’s gonna pull through.”
“But if she doesn’t —”
“Stop.”
“Josh, if she doesn’t pull through,” I persist.
Josh shakes his head sharply at me.
“Then I’m going with her.”
Josh swallows hard. Wordlessly, he bends down to Luna and touches her tiny fingers, one by one. “Jonas, that option is officially unavailable to you, bro,” he says, not looking at me, “for the rest of your life.”
I look down at Sunshine and then over at Luna, processing what Josh just said to me—and with sudden clarity, I know he’s right. Holy fuck. He’s right. I’m a father. These miniature people are mine. Forever. No turning back. And I can’t let them down.
Holy shit. I suddenly feel like I’m standing at a fork in the road. Am I gonna be the kind of father who blows his fucking brains out while his kid is making him a turkey burger downstairs? Or am I gonna be the kind of father who climbs any mountain and slays any dragon for his baby girls—even if that mountain or dragon happens to be himself?
Josh is looking at me with eyes that see right through me. He raises his eyebrows, clearly asking me if I understand and accept the situation.
I nod.
Josh steps forward and puts his hand on my shoulder. “You’re not alone in this. I’m right here.”
“I love her,” I say simply.
Josh wraps his arms around me. “I know,” he says, his voice quavering into my cheek. “I love her, too.”
“I don’t know how to live without her,” I choke out.
“You won’t have to.”
“She’s my everything.”
“She’s gonna pull through, Jonas—I know she will. She’s Sarah Fucking Cruz.” His body twitches violently against me as he tries to contain his emotion.
“This is too hard,” I say. “It’s too hard for me to handle.”
“It’s too hard for anyone to handle. It’s not just you.”
I mumble something incoherent into his neck and Josh squeezes me tighter.
“Have faith, Jonas,” Josh whispers into my ear. “God wouldn’t take Sarah from us. There’s no way he’d be that fucking cruel.” His voice is strained. “Again.”
Chapter 13
Sarah
I’m standing inside a massive cave on the lip of a towering waterfall, peering into the dark abyss below me. A warm, driving rain pelts me from above, drenching my skin and hair and clothes. If it weren’t for the headlamp on my helmet, I’d be enveloped by utter blackness without reprieve.
I can’t move.
I can’t speak.
I’m in pain.
Is this rain-battered cave some sort of gigantic metaphor for my own demise—a construct my mind has created to make death understandable to me? Wow, that’d be hella poetic—and, jeez, awfully sad, too. But, no, I don’t think I’m dead, because every inch of my body hurts right now. Juepucha culo.
My face feels heavy. My head is pounding. And, oh my God, what is that horrible pain in my abdomen? Holy crappola. If this is death, then I’m officially pissed because the brochure clearly stated I’d feel nothing but eternal serenity all the dead-long day.
The rain is gaining in intensity. My teeth are chattering.
I look down.
I’m holding my sons, one in each arm, swaddled in blue blankets from head to toe. I peer at them through the dark, my headlamp barely cutting a swath through the driving rain—but I can’t make out their faces. Hey, hold up. Aren’t my babies supposed to be in my belly right now?
I look down and the rocks beneath my bare feet crumble and fall away into the darkness below. I step back, trying to steady myself on firmer ground, but the rocky ledge beneath my feet is shifting.
I tilt my face up and let the warm, sheeting rain pound me in the face.
Hold up. How is it raining inside a cave?
I stick out my tongue. The rain tastes salty. And metallic. The smell of blood suddenly fills my nostrils. I jerk violently with my epiphany and scramble to focus my headlamp on the bundles in my arms. My light illuminates a crimson-soaked blanket in my right arm—and then in my left. Dark, wet, viscous blood is dripping off the bundles in my arms and making me gag. Oh, God. There’s blood everywhere. All over me. All over the babies. And dripping down the rocks surrounding me. I try to shriek, but nothing comes out
of my mouth.
My stomach clenches. I have to save my babies from this torrent of blood. I look down toward the dark water below and my knees knock uncontrollably. That’s a long, dark, scary-as-shit way down. I can’t do this. I’m not ready. Oh shit. No effing way.
“Sarah,” a calm voice beneath me says. “I’m right here.”
Jonas.
“You’re gonna be okay, baby. I’m right here.”
A small orb of light illuminates the surface of the black water below. “Here,” Jonas’ voice says from below, calm and confident. His hand extends into the sphere of light and pats the water. “I’m right here, Sarah.”
“Jonas,” I try to say, but my voice doesn’t work. Tears stream down my blood-soaked cheeks.
“My precious baby,” Jonas says softly into my ear. I feel his nose nuzzling against my cheek.
“Jonas,” I breathe, closing my eyes.
Wait. Why the frickity-frack can I hear Jonas in my ear and feel his nose against my cheek when he’s down in the water below? I peer into the abyss beneath me and, yup, his hand protrudes into the orb of light.
“I’m right here,” Jonas whispers softly in my ear again. His hand clasps mine. “Don’t leave me, Sarah. I need you.”
My sweet Jonas needs me? Oh, well, then, that settles it. I take a deep breath, hug my babies to me, and hurl myself off the edge of the waterfall.
I’m instantly sinking into cold blackness. I flail my arms, trying to gain traction, and, as I do, I lose my grip on my babies. I try to scream as they float away from me, but I can’t make a sound. Ink-black water is flooding my mouth and rushing down my throat. But just when I think I’m a goner, strong arms grab me and pull me up, up, up until my face breaks the surface of the water.
“Jonas,” I cry, gasping for air. “The babies!”
I open my eyes. “The babies!” But nothing comes out of my mouth. My voice isn’t working.
I’m in a darkened hospital room. Jonas is seated next to my bed, his strong arms draped across me. His fingers are woven into mine. There are tubes and wires attached to me. Oh God, I’m in so much pain. And, oh my God, Jonas is heart-stoppingly beautiful.
Jonas smiles at me through tears. “Sarah,” he says, overcome with emotion. “Thank God.” He shudders with relief. “I’ve been so worried.”
I clutch my belly. “The babies,” I say—or try to say. I can’t make sound come out of my mouth.
“They’re in the NICU,” Jonas says softly, understanding me despite my absent voice. He strokes my face tenderly. “Two little girls.” He wipes his eyes. “And they look just like you.”
A surge of pure love floods my entire body, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes open. The pain is too great. I’m too tired. I’ve never felt quite this tired before. I’m slipping away. I reach toward Jonas, trying to hold onto him, trying to stay with him in the light—did he just say we have daughters?—but I’m too weak to overcome the darkness.
“Sarah?” Jonas whispers, his voice breaking. “Baby?” He yelps. “Fuck. Sarah? I love you, Sarah. Sarah?” His voice breaks. “Oh, Sarah. Baby. I love you so much. Please hear me. I love you.”
His muffled voice cuts through the darkness for a nanosecond, and then I’m subsumed into the darkness again.
Chapter 14
Sarah
I’m standing with Jonas on the side of a Belizean highway.
“As a member of the Jonas Faraday Club,” he says, shooting me a shy smile, “you need a color-coded bracelet.” He ties a multi-colored friendship bracelet to my wrist.
“Oh yeah,” I say, laughing. “To designate my freaky-ass ‘sexual preferences.’” I look at the braided bracelet on my wrist. “I’m not a purple?”
“No, you’re not a purple, you big dummy—neither am I. We’re a brand new color—a color designated for just the two of us.” He holds his wrist right next to mine. “Because we’re a perfect match, baby.” He leans in and kisses me. “Because you were made for me, Sarah Cruz.”
I smile at him. “You were made for me, Jonas Faraday.”
“Please, please don’t leave me.”
I feel pain everywhere. Holy fuckity-fuck-fuck, what is that goddamned pain?
“S-A-R-A-H,” Jonas says, diverting my attention from the pain. He hands a platinum bracelet to a saleswoman behind a jewelry counter. “S-A-R-A-H,” he repeats.
The woman behind the counter nods. “And you, miss?” she asks me.
I’m disoriented for a moment. I look around the jewelry store and then back to the clerk. “Um.”
“Say it, baby,” Jonas coaxes. “You know what to say.”
Holy hell, I feel like shit.
“Baby,” Jonas says. “Think about our love. Let it lead you back to me.”
I take a deep breath. “J-O-N-A-S,” I say, handing her the platinum bracelet that’s suddenly appeared in my hand. I turn to look at Jonas and the pain in my body subsides. “Jonas, no matter what happens from here on out, if I have to leave, always know I loved you with all my heart and soul.”
“That’s not what you say right then,” Jonas says, clearly panicking. “Say what you’re supposed to say.”
“Sorry.” I twist my mouth, trying to remember. I look down at my hands. Where’s my wedding ring? Oh no. I never, ever take it off. Where’d it go?
“Sarah?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t remember what I’m supposed to say.”
“‘Our bracelets have to be a perfect match because we’re a perfect match. End of story,’” Jonas says. He flashes me a beaming smile. “That’s what you say. And then you jut your chin like a little badass.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right.”
He puts his finger under my chin. “We have to get these memories exactly right, my love. If you think about them, if you let your mind relive them exactly like they happened, they’ll bring you back to me—I know they will.”
His smile is melting me right now. Damn, he’s a good lookin’ man. I nod. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”
“Good girl. Now say your line,” he says softly.
“Our bracelets have to be a perfect match because we’re a perfect match. End of story.” I jut my chin.
“There’s my badass!” He laughs and sweeps me up into an embrace. “God, I love you, Sarah Cruz.” I feel his hand clasping mine. “Stay with me, love. Never leave me. I’m right here.”
“Is that what you’re supposed say right then?” I ask. “I don’t remember it that way.”
“Please, please come back to me,” his voice says softly in my ear. His fingers graze my cheek. “Please, baby, please.” He sounds like he’s crying. “I love you.”
“That’s not what you say, Jonas.” Tears well up in my eyes. Shoot. I can’t remember what he’s supposed to say. The blackness is pulling at me, coaxing me. I can’t think straight.
He squeezes my hand. “I love you,” he whispers. “Stay with me, baby.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You have to.”
“I don’t know if I get to decide.”
“Of course, you do,” Jonas says. “Who the fuck gets to decide, if not you?”
“Well, you know. God.”
“Fuck God.”
“Jonas. You can’t say that.” I look around, paranoid someone will overhear him.
“I’ll say it again. Fuck God. As far as I’m concerned, God’s been a fucking asshole to me my whole life and I’m fucking sick and tired of his bullshit.” His face is pure anguish. “So fuck it. I’m God now. I’m in charge. And my first order of business is decreeing that my beloved Sarah shall come back to me.”
“It doesn’t work that way, my love,” I say earnestly. “And, seriously, you can’t talk that way about God. You’re gonna get us in big trouble. Take it back.”
He exhales loudly. “Just stop being so difficult and do what I tell you to do for once in your goddamned life, woman.” I feel his hand on my cheek, his lips against my ear. “Stay with me, Sarah,”
he breathes. “Please.”
A breeze rifles through my hair. I smell salt in the air. I look around.
I’m standing on a white-sand beach. The ocean is the most spectacular shade of turquoise I’ve ever seen. Jonas is bent down on his knee, holding up a ring box.
“There’s never been a love like ours and there never will be again,” he says, his face beaming up at me. “We’re the greatest love story ever told. Our love is so pure and true, it’s the amazement of the gods.” He bites his luscious lower lip and smiles. “Baby, our love is the envy of the gods.”
I kneel down and throw my arms around his neck. “Yes!”
“Yes?”
“Yes, baby, yes!” Tears squirt out my eyes. “Always and forever, yes. No matter whether I’m flesh and bones or ether or ash, I’ll always be yours, Jonas. I’m a member of the Jonas Faraday Club forever and ever.”
He leans back from me, his eyes panicked. “That’s not what you say, Sarah. Goddammit. You don’t say that thing about ether and ash.” His lip trembles. “You just say yes.” He’s obviously holding back tears. “You don’t get to say anything but yes.”
I nod. “I’m sorry, Jonas.” I touch his chest. “Yes.”
He slides the diamond onto my finger and takes my face in his hands. “Never leave me, Sarah.”
“I’m trying.”
I look down. I’m holding a huge plastic cup filled with liquid that looks like lemonade. My wedding band is on my finger, thank God. It freaked me out not seeing it there a minute ago. And my engraved platinum bracelet is on my wrist, too. Phew. All’s right with the world.
Samba music is blaring in my ears. I look to my left and there’s Jonas, swigging from a big cup and shaking his gorgeous ass to the infectious beat of the music, his engraved platinum bracelet on his wrist, as usual. Okay. We’re good.
I look around. Beautiful Brazilian people. Palm trees. Warm, luscious air.
Ah, yes. I remember this place—Rio de Janeiro. Jonas and I are here for Carnivale during my second year of law school and we’re drinking caipirinhas ’til we can’t feel our faces or toes. Hellz yeah, we are. Woot woot! Yay for numb faces and toes!