Chapter 9 - THE FINAL GOODBYE
I brought Leo back to the hospital the next morning.
The foster mother had agreed to let me take him for a visit,
knowing the situation was dire.
I carried him through the ICU,
his small face pressed against my neck.
He was quiet,
as if he sensed the gravity of the place.
When we entered Sarah's room,
the doctor was there,
looking at the monitors.
"She's waking up,"
he whispered.
"The sedation is wearing off."
I sat on the edge of the bed,
holding Leo in my lap.
Sarah's eyes fluttered,
then slowly opened.
She looked confused at first,
then her gaze landed on us.
A single tear escaped her eye and ran down her temple.
"Charles,"
she croaked,
her voice a ghost of itself.
"You found him."
"I found him,
Sarah,"
I said,
taking her hand.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was selfish,"
she whispered,
her eyes fixed on Leo.
"I wanted him all to myself.
I thought I had more time."
Leo reached out and touched her hand,
his little face scrunched in concern.
"Mama?"
"Hey,
baby,"
she said,
a tiny,
weak smile appearing on her lips.
"Daddy's going to take care of you now."
She looked at me,
her eyes searching mine for forgiveness.
"I'm so sorry,
Charles."
"I forgive you,"
I said,
and I meant it.
The anger was gone,
replaced by a profound,
aching sadness.
We sat there for an hour,
a family that had only just begun and was already ending.
She told me where his favorite toy was,
what he liked to eat for breakfast,
how he was afraid of the dark.
She was giving me a crash course in his life,
her words coming slower and slower.
The monitors began to beep more frantically.
The doctor stepped in,
his face grim.
"It's time,
Mr. Miller."
I stood up,
clutching Leo to my chest.
I kissed Sarah on the forehead,
her skin cold and dry.
"I love you,
Sarah,"
I whispered.
"I'll take care of him.
I promise."
She looked at us one last time,
a look of pure,
unfiltered peace crossing her face.
And then,
her eyes closed for the last time.
The long,
unending tone of the heart monitor filled the room.
The light of the Miami sun was blinding through the window.
May you like
Sarah was gone.
But the red stain on the sheet a month ago had led me to the only thing that mattered.
