24 Days

Chapter 2: December 1st

"Ally, where's Taffy?"

My eyes open before Tara can finish her question and I'm met with teary eyes and trembling lips. Her hair sticks up on end and her face is lined with creases from the bed sheets.

And I don't know what to tell her. I know she won't react well when i tell her that Taffy followed her surfer boyfriend to a tropical destination for an undetermined amount of time. I know she'll wait and scream and cry when I tell her that she won't be home for Christmas and that she'll scream the house down at the possibility of Taffy never returning to our house.

Taffy was more her rock than she was mine. She comforted her nightmares with her humming and she let her sleep in the same bed with her. I saw them several times when I woke up for a glass of water in the middle of the night; with Taffy humming or stroking Tara's hair.

Now I just had to figure out what to do.

"She went out, baby," I hear myself saying, as my eyes dart to the clock by my bed which reads 4am. "She'll be back soon. Come here, you can cuddle with me for now ok?"

She seems to consider this offer and her hand even extends to lift the covers so she can crawl in. Then she remembers the protocol and her face turns sour as she withdraws her hand.

"Call her. She'll come back. She'll put me to sleep."

There's hesitance in her voice when she adds, "that's what she always does" and I know then that she knows that something has changed.

"I know, baby, but she's far away tonight. Let's just sleep ok? Morning will be here soon."

She nods and crawls into my bed.

I feel bad calling her baby. It's what Taffy calls her, or called her; when she was here, and it feels like I'm taking something away from her by using her pet name for Tara.

But she's more easily manipulated when we call her baby, and I have to meet Elena in the morning and it's horrible to say, but that feels more important than taking Taf's feelings into consideration.

Getting her to sleep is easier than I thought. She huddles against me; her hands curl around the edges of the pillow and her eyes flutter shut and before the clock strikes 4:3, her breathing is regular and a peaceful look has fallen upon her features.

I'm not so lucky.

I try following her technique but the pillow feels hot and gets dampened easily by sweat and every time I close my eyes, I can feel my heart start to race as feelings of fear come over me.

I'm more aware now than I was last night and every creak and groan of the floorboards has me thinking it might be her, crawling back to us with an apology.

But it's never her. There's my mother's soft footsteps wrapped in bed slippers, Matt's running shoes treading softly and quickly and then silence. Jack and Kurt are still in bed and Tara's in mine. And for today, that's everyone in the house.

It's almost 5:30 when I finally ease myself out of bed. The sun still hasn't risen and I breathe in the chilly morning air, as if it somehow has the power to instill some calm in me.

Taffy said it did. And I believed her until breathing the very air sent me into a state of panic at the reminder of her. I perch at the end of Taffy's bed. It doesn't feel right to sit on it or to climb in under the covers; it's too soon. It feels as if a ghost of her still lingers, along with the smell of the sea salt spray she used for her hair.

Then I remember. Seek and you shall find.

I look around her side of the room, wondering where to start my search.