“I hear you, Adam, loud and clear, all right?” He nods. “But from where I’m sitting, I see an amazing girl who deserves more than the shit hand she’s holding right now. I know the risks.”

That seems to shut him up, and we watch the game in companionable silence. I’m not one to sit on the sidelines, so taking my cue from Adam, I wade in where I’m most definitely not wanted.

“You know, I admire you, dude. You are a stellar dad,” I say, keeping my eyes trained to the soccer field. “Just saying, Sara would be great with them. No pressure or anything, I just know it’s got to be fucking hard to juggle two separate lives, which is essentially what you’re doing right now.”

I know he hears me because I can see his jaw muscles tensing as he clenches his teeth. I resist the urge to tell him to calm the fuck down. Life’s too short to be that tense.

“Within minutes of being born, those two children lost the most important person in their lives. No child should have to go through that. Forgive me if I’m not big on introducing anyone into the fold that may not want to stay around for the long haul,” Adam says quietly.

“Look man, I get it. But nothing in this world is guaranteed, and you seem to be serious about this girl—”

“But is she serious about me? Ah, no quick answer to that one, huh?” he says when I don’t answer immediately. He shakes his head and pulls down on the bill of his hat, hiding his eyes. “I’m not the only person to consider here. It takes two, and until I know she’s in this thing with me, no kids.”

Before I can answer, Celia places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I’m sorry, y’all. It looks like I’m going to have to take off after the first game today. One of my clinic patients needs me to make a home visit. So a play by play of the second game tonight—”

“Hold on, Tink. Let me get this straight. You are going to the home of one of your mentally ill patients this afternoon?” I ask, willing myself to calm down.

“Well … yes,” she answers.

“You and what policeman?”

“What? What are you talking about? It’s just me.”

“I’ve told her, dude, and she won’t listen. I can’t go with her because I’ve got Lily and Gage, but I’ve warned her. She’s got a head as hard as a rock,” Adam says, shrugging at Celia when she shoots him the evil eye.

“Celia...”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, ya big oaf.” She crosses her arms and stamps her tiny foot.

“I’m well aware of that, but you’re still not going by yourself. Just think of me as an added bonus—excellent company for an otherwise boring afternoon.”

It’s clear she doesn’t agree, and I swear I can see a bit of smoke shooting out of her ears. She pivots on her foot and flips her hand under the bill of Adam’s baseball hat, and it flies backward into the grass.

“And you … you traitor. You two are always ganging up on me now,” she says with a huff. “I wish…”

“Go ahead, lay into me. You know you wanna,” Adam taunts.

His lighthearted chuckle only spurs her on.

“May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits!” Celia spits out, garnering more attention than she bargained for.

All of the parents in the near vicinity burst out laughing. One soccer dad claps Adam on the shoulder, saying, “That sounds serious, man.”

Something catches Adam’s attention on the field, and he swats at Celia, pointing toward the pile of kids crowded around the goal. In the midst of the mayhem, the one and only butterfly soccer princess is lining up her shot for the goal. For the moment, Sara, home visits, fleas, and camels are forgotten.

She looks determined. She looks sparkly. She looks fierce.

With a swift kick and a tiny bit of luck, the ball soars past the goalie and hits the back of the net. All three of us shoot up out of our chairs and jump up and down, cheering.

Lily swipes her unruly curls from her eyes and turns to the crowd, beaming. She searches until she finds Celia, lifting her hands and wiggling her fingers as she giggles.

“Sparkle, sparkle, sparkle,” Celia whispers as she wiggles her fingers right back.

“I See Fire” by Ed Sheeran

The Past

“AND MIZPAH; FOR he said, the Lord watch between me and thee when we are absent one from another,” Father Babineaux recites to the small crowd. His voice bellows over the chirping birds and passing cars.

That was her favorite Bible reading. She’d read it to me countless times. Looking back, I think she tried to ink these words into my being, a reminder she would always be with me. Maybe she always planned for the day she would leave me. Sadly, this brings me no comfort. Inevitability is no consolation. My heart is heavy, sagging in my chest with this unimaginable loss.

I sit in the front row of the cemetery service and grip Audrey’s hand to center me. I lay my head on her shoulder, and her cheek rubs my hair. Instead of a full church service, I opted to tell Grams goodbye with a short wake at the funeral home and a graveside service.

The doctors say she died of a massive stroke. They told me over and over that no amount of time would change the outcome. An hour earlier, ten minutes sooner, it would’ve made no difference. But how could they know that? I see their assurances for what they are—empty words. Promises with no other purpose than to erase a stupid girl’s guilt.

Why in the hell did I go to that meeting with Mr. Bernard? Those extra minutes could have made all the difference.

Father Babineaux looks at me expectantly, and only then do I notice he’s no longer talking. Taking that as my cue, I stand on wobbly legs, clutching the white rose in my hand. The thorns bite into my flesh, and I grip even tighter. I wear her St. Jude pendant around my neck, the weight crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I approach the casket and place the rose on top. I stare at my reflection in the varnished wood and search for the words buried deep within me. How do you say goodbye to the only parent you’ve ever known?

My heels sink into the softened ground as I press my forehead into the wood. I will myself to forget the sight of her on the bathroom floor. I want the image wiped from my brain, replaced with memories of her crocheting in her chair, lying in bed saying her rosary, leaning over my bed to kiss me goodnight. Those are the things I want to remember. She lived a life of strength and unconditional love—I refuse to remember her in a moment of helplessness.

I open my mouth to speak, but my voice cracks from lack of use and days of crying. I clear my throat and try again.

“Thank you, Grams. Thank you for being the perfect example of grace and strength. I could use your strength right now,” I say as a tear splashes onto my chapped cheeks. “If I’m half the woman you were, I’ll be amazing.”

I grip St. Jude in my fist and pull, feeling the metal chain digging into the back of my neck. “Maybe one day, things won’t feel so hopeless. Maybe with you watching over me, I won’t need St. Jude after all. I’ll pray … I’ll wish … I’ll hope for that day."

I feel Audrey’s presence behind me, and she squeezes my shoulder to let me know she’s there. I close my eyes and pretend we’re the only two people here. I try to forget her parents, who walked me through the process of planning the funeral. I erase Harold, Grams’s nurse, from my mind, as well as Grams’s bingo friends and their looks of pity.

I don’t have to worry about dismissing Lucas from my thoughts, because he isn’t here.