If I Could Tell Him

Chapter fifty

Last chapter. Deep breath. Here we go.
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MARIGOLD POV

TIME SKIP (five years) BROUGHT TO YOU BY ALL OF Y O U READERS WHO HAVE MADE IT THIS FAR I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR READING THIS SHIT

Marigold opened the door to her father's hospital room, looking over his comatose state. She always hoped that maybe one day she would get used to seeing him lying there, but she never did. In her head, he was still the dorky, funny dad that raised her.

"Hi, daddy." She said, sitting on the end of his hospital bed. "I start high school tomorrow. I'm real scared. Dad said that's where you guys met though, so maybe I'll meet my spouse there too." She searched his face for a reaction, knowing that she'd get none.

Marigold wiped her eyes, looking around the room.

"Well..." she started, tucking her hair behind her ear, "dad misses you. You should hear the way he talks." She laughed sadly.

Connor would mention his husband any chance he got. He still wore his wedding ring and Marigold sometimes caught him sitting up in bed, talking to the empty space next to him. It broke his daughter's heart to see him so lonely, but he swore up and down that he was alright.

"I wish I could hug you again. I even want to see you and dad get all gross and cheesy dancing in the kitchen again." She touched her face, wiping her tears. "I'd always try to join you, remember? But I'd slip and almost fall. I-I didn't think anyone would catch me. But...you did."

Marigold started to cry harder, remembering when she was a little girl and slipping around in her fuzzy socks on the tile floor. They'd either be giant trees from Evan or black with skulls from Connor. She didn't like to choose between them, so she'd always wear one on each foot.

"You never let me fall. R-remember?" The girl's voice dropped to a whisper. "You and dad...you always made sure I was okay."

Marigold was full on sobbing at this point, unable to control herself.

"Why did you leave? Why did you leave me and dad all by ourselves? It's not fair!" She cried out angrily, knowing that she wasn't justified in her resentment towards her unconscious father. It wasn't his fault, after all. It was the driver of that fucking red truck. After all these years, they still couldn't prove it was Thomas. Marigold lay down next to Evan on the hospital bed, trying to block out the sounds of machinery rolling and nurses bustling and just focus on pretending she was little again. Pretending she was a little kid, curled up next to her sleeping dad after she had a nightmare.

Her nightmares were much more real now.

"Wake up..." she whispered softly. "Wake up, wake up, wake up."

After several hours of desperate pleading and pretending Evan would respond, Marigold sat up dejectedly.

"I...I have to go, daddy. Dad's making dinner. Some...mushroom pasta thing he said you found on Pinterest." Marigold wipes her bloodshot eyes, taking a shaky breath.

"Dad wanted me to give you this." She said, pulling out a dried bunch of marigolds. "It's your wedding bouquet. Oh, and..." she took a small sapling out of her bag. "Gramma and dad and I have been growing this for you. It's f-from one of your tree's branches...you named it something, right?" Mari thought for a moment.

"Arnold!" She exclaimed finally. "Dad told me you named him Arnold." The girl placed both the small tree and the dried flowers on his nightstand. "Well...bye, daddy. I love you. Dad loves you. We all love you." She turned to leave.

Just as she got to the door, she heard something. A voice that she never thought she'd ever hear again. A voice she loved and missed dearly. A voice that only now presented itself in her dreams.

"Marigold?"

THE END

Spoiler alert: there's a bonus chapter for you a bit after the author's note
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