When We Were Young

Our Father

Skylar seemed to heal. Not completely. Neither had I. But the wounds scabbed over and we started to live again.

It was early April and we had just come back from a week in St. Thomas for spring break and a much-needed holiday. We seemed to get back to the place we were before. But I was about to throw everything up in the air and hope that we all landed on our feet.

I stared at the letter and reread it a thousand times. It was formal, Dear Mr. Albert J Young. Congratulations...

Now it was real. So real that I wasn't sure what to think or feel. I was excited. A life-long dream coming true, but yet what would I have to give up? Besides that I hadn't told Sky yet. After our life finally settled down after the miscarriage, I knew she was still fragile. While I didn't have to tiptoe around her, I was careful.

Now this. Maybe a change would be good for her. Maybe a new place, a new way of life, would help us move forward.

But first things first. I had planned it anyway. Before the baby, before this news, and I wanted to wait so she didn't think this was the way I thought we could move on together. But now it seemed I would have no choice but to speed up the timeline.

I needed her to know that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life.

She was at the gym when I came home from the museum. I paced around, cleaning up, straightening up the pile of books on the shelves for the hundredth time. I thought about dirtying some dishes just so I could wash them.

Finally, I heard the keys and she came in. I had a book in my hand, although I wasn't actually reading anything. I smiled, trying to relax.

Sky's face was flushed and her hair was matted to her head. But she was smiling and looked relaxed.

"Hey there," I said, walking toward her to give her a kiss. But her phone rang just as I touched her shoulders.

She crinkled her nose and said, "Sorry," and quickly kissed my lips. She pulled out her phone and made a face. "Hello?"

Whoever was on the other end was talking fast. I could hear that, but not what was being said.

"I am. But we..." Skylar was saying. Her face paled and I was concerned. She reached for me and put her hand on my chest; my hands were on her waist. Skylar squeezed her eyes shut. "I can be there in an hour." Her voice was quiet, and sad.

She hung up the phone and just stood there, her eyes closed, breathing very slowly. "Sky, what's going on?"
"That was Columbian Presbyterian. Apparently my father is dying, and he named me the primary for his care." 

"Your father?" I blinked. "Your..."

"I can't even...I don't..." she stuttered.

I didn't know what to say either. She collapsed against me and held me for a few moments before mumbling and rushing to the bathroom to shower. My plans would have to be put on hold.

She held onto my hand tightly as we made our way through the corridors. Not that anyone likes hospitals, but it seemed that Sky had a clear aversion to them.

We made it to the nurses' station and after a few seconds, the nurse finally looked up.

"I'm Skylar Shaw. My father is Charlie Walker," she said, swallowing so hard I could see the movement in her throat.

"Oh, Ms. Shaw," the nurse said, glancing at me. "Let me get the doctor and he can sit with you. Follow me, please," she said and we followed her down the hall. People groaned, machines beeped; it smelled like sickness, and I tried not to think of the last time Skylar and I were in a hospital. We walked into a small waiting area with tacky, orange, stained sofas.