Between the Perennial Blooms || Paul Lahote

Eleven | Nightshade

"the world ends like this.

with the dying sigh of a new mother
& the feather light touch of ghosts.
hiding in a closet full of skeletons.

i'm rusting over & it feels like telling lies in the pouring rain."

—not with a bang but a whimper | h.a.

• • •

Visiting Acoma hadn't been easy; to no one's surprise, Charlie had put up a fight.

"I don't see why you want to go back there all by yourself," he had huffed, watching from the doorway of her bedroom with arms crossed tightly over his chest as Bailey meticulously folded her clothes for packing. She had washed and dried them earlier, tidied her room until it was nothing short of shining and spotless, and even went so far as deep cleaning the shared bathroom of the house from top to bottom -anything to keep her mind off the pain that coursed through her chest. "You've got all your things here and most of your Gran's in storage at Renée's," he pointed out. "There's nothing there for you now."

Bailey ignored the pang in her heart, ignored the sorrow that overwhelmed her over the boy she barely knew, and ignored the loss that plagued her at the mention of her Gran's imminent passing. "There is too, Papa." She told him. "There's Gran. There's her house. There's all the memories of the two of us before she died." There's a place that doesn't hurt, she wanted to add.

She didn't.

"I know, baby," he sighed, striding over to her bed to wrap his hand around the back of her neck and squeeze it sympathetically. "But I just got you," he admitted, voice taking on the gruff tone it always did when he expressed his emotions aloud. "And I know I never stepped up to the plate when you were little, but I'm trying real hard to be there for you now."

"Oh, Papa," she swallowed thickly, launching her dainty arms around his thick waist and hugging him tight. "I'll only be gone for a little less than two weeks!"

Charlie chuckled wryly and wrapped his own arms around her tiny frame, enveloping her in a bear hug that Bailey had never realized just how much she needed. It eased her pain ever-so-slightly, loosening the vice-like grip around her chest until it only remained as a faint squeeze. "I'm giving you money for that plane ticket, by the way."

Bailey pulled away from his embrace to protest. "Papa, I already bought it. I was saving the money anyway and-"

"Oh hush, Bailey-bug," he interrupted with a hard look of warning, though the warmth in his eyes negated his stern demeanor. "I'm your dad," he said. "Let me do my job."

She nodded silently, flashing him a smile that showcased two identical dimples on either side of her cheeks. At his next words, however, that smile slowly dropped.

"You're going to call me as soon as your feet hit the ground," he stated. "But if you see somebody suspicious before that when you're boarding your flight, you call me and turn your happy ass right back around and come home." She huffed at both his paranoia and use of bad language, but otherwise remained silent as he continued. "If you can't find a taxi from the airport, you call me and I'll get ahold of somebody from the force down there and cash in a favor. If you do find a taxi, you take a picture of the driver and send it to me. Then when you get to Acoma, you text me; and after you walk through the front door of your Gran's, you text me again." He met her eyes to wait for confirmation, and all she did was give a simple nod. "Call me before bed, too." He finally said, then, as an afterthought, added, "Go ahead and text me and let me know you're still alive every morning while you're at it." Bailey nodded her head again, once, twice, three times.