Liz woke to a piercing, agonizing screech coming from the baby monitor beside her – so high-pitched it was also traveling through the walls, through the hallway, through the doors. Far worse than usual. She glanced at her bedside clock as she scrambled out of bed, pushing the blankets down into a rumpled pile. 2:11 a.m.
She rubbed her eyes blearily and stumbled toward the door, nearly tripping over Hudson who was already awake, alarmed by the noise.
She made her way down the hallway and turned into Sara's room, stopping in her tracks as she watched Samar, already there, lifting Sara into her arms and murmuring hushed, soothing words into her ear as she held her close: "Shh, shhh, darling girl, you're okay, I've got you."
Liz felt her eyes stinging, the lump forming in the back of her throat, and she knew this wasn't Samar's responsibility but she couldn't bring herself to step forward and break the spell.
"Missh mamaaaaa," Sara screamed. "Daddyyy!" She threw her head back, trying to escape Samar's embrace as if her arms were a trap keeping her from her real family.
Samar held on, placing one hand around the back of her head, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She stepped toward the bookcase and gently picked up the framed photo Liz had placed there. "Look, baby girl, they're right here, they're right here so you always, always remember them," Samar murmured, making sure Sara could see her parents' smiling faces.
But Sara only wailed harder and louder, and knocked the frame from Samar's hand so forcefully that her little fist caused the glass to crack, a tiny thin line of blood appearing on her palm. She threw herself in seemingly every direction at once, crying and screaming, each of her sobs a knife to Liz's heart. The photo fell to the floor, forgotten, as Samar grabbed Sara's hand gently, moving backwards to sit in the rocking chair, Sara in her arms. "Shhh, shh, love, I know, I know."
Liz had finally pulled herself out of her reverie, and knelt beside the rocking chair, reaching out to inspect Sara's hand. Samar used her thumb to spread open the little girl's chubby fingers, Sara's tiny, pale hand cupped within her palm. Liz gently touched Sara's skin, pulling it gently in different directions so she could see how bad the cut was, her own palm skimming against Samar's as she completed her inspection. Sara's panicky sobs transitioned into something more simple and exhausted and scared, her little body unable to handle so much emotion at once.
"You're okay, Sara," Liz whispered, brushing the un-cut portion of her palm softly. "I'm gonna get you all fixed up, okay?"
Sara managed to nod but let out a rough wail, her throat raw from her cries. Liz stood up and Samar followed her wordlessly into the bathroom, lovingly placing a kiss on Sara's temple, whispering to her over and over that everything would be okay.
Liz rummaged through the cabinet beneath the sink, pulling out rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, Neosporin, and princess-themed Band-Aids. Samar sat down on the edge of the bathtub, Sara in her lap, and placed another kiss on her red, puffy cheek, wiping the tears away with her thumb.
Sara wailed as Liz pulled her hand into her own, tugging softly at her skin, swiping the alcohol-laden cotton ball across the cut to make sure it was completely clean. "I know, sweetie, I know it hurts, but we're almost done," Liz murmured as she watched herself work. She unwrapped a Band-Aid and dabbed Neosporin onto its pad, then quickly, carefully affixed it to Sara's palm. "See? All done! And now you get to show off your princess Band-Aids." Liz smiled at her, lifting her little hand up to place a kiss amongst the princesses.
Sara's cries were gradually beginning to lessen, but she was still whimpering quietly, tears continuing to stream down her cheeks. Liz let her eyes sneak up a few inches and she met Samar's gaze and all she could think was how was I so blind to this, how was I ever so blind?
Liz suddenly realized how uncomfortable her legs felt in this crouched, cramped position on the bathroom floor and pushed herself up to her feet. Samar stood, and began to hand Sara to Liz, while she said, "Where do you keep your vacuum? I'll clean up the glass."
Sara was already settling into her arms, so she couldn't really do anything about it, but her mouth fell open in protest. "Samar, no, I can do it. Really. You've done more than enough," she insisted, overwhelmed.
Samar smiled and simply shook her head, walking around Liz out of the bathroom, a gentle hand brushing across her arm as she passed.
Liz sighed resignedly, nearly rolling her eyes, and called out, "Front closet. Vacuum's in the front closet."
TBLTBLTBLTBLTBLTBLTBLTBL
Samar worked quickly, and by the time Liz had finished cleaning the tears and snot from Sara's face, changed her diaper, and helped her into a fresh, non-tear-soaked set of pajamas, the vacuum's whine was already winding down and Samar was placing it back inside the closet and checking the carpet carefully for stray pieces she may have missed.
Once the carpet had been deemed safe, once Samar had disposed of the bigger chunks of glass in the kitchen trash and returned to give Sara a goodnight kiss, Liz moved to lower her daughter into the crib.
But Sara whined and wrapped her little arms around Liz's neck and refused to let go, clamping her legs tightly around Liz's waist, clinging to her like a desperate monkey.
Liz stopped and looked at her, brushing her hair out of her face softly. "Are you a little Sara monkey?" she asked playfully, grinning.
Sara's eyes were wide and she unwrapped one arm from Liz's neck so she could stick two of her fingers into her mouth. Liz kissed her forehead. "Come on, I'll let you snuggle me for a bit," she murmured, smiling at Samar as she walked past her into the hallway. She looked over her shoulder, stopping when she saw Samar turn away toward the living room. "Samar?"
Samar slowly looked back at them.
"You can come with us. If you want to, I mean," Liz nervously offered, then smirked softly as she added, "Our first official meeting of the Insomnia Club?"
Samar smiled and, even though she looked exhausted and a little bit sad, it was that specific smile that made her eyes twinkle in that specific way that was just so Samar, the smile that never failed to make Liz melt into a puddle. Liz breathed a sigh of relief as Samar nodded and began to walk toward her. She moved her feet again, down the hall to her bedroom, euphoric at the knowledge that Samar was following her.
She climbed into her bed, settling in propped up against her pillows, Sara's head resting on her chest. She reached for the remote on her nightstand and switched on the television, flicking over to the DVD she knew was already waiting for just such an instance – Frozen – and pressed play where they'd left off a few nights before.
Samar sat gently on the other side of the bed. "Ah, Frozen. I have yet to see this."
"Oh my goodness, Sara, did you hear that?" Liz whispered conspiratorially. "Auntie Samar hasn't seen Frozen!" She glanced over at Samar, her nose crinkling in amusement.
Sara lifted her head, just barely, and asked, seemingly in utter disbelief at this travesty, "No Fwozen?"
Samar shook her head, grinning, and replied, "Nope. Not yet, anyway."
Liz looked back at Sara, and kissed her temple. "I think that means we have to start from the beginning. What do you think, kiddo?"
Sara nodded, a tiny smile finally appearing on her face. "Auntie Samaw gotta see Fwozen," she said, her tone lacking the energy that it normally would've had – Liz could tell that she was already getting sleepy again.
"I agree," Liz told her with a grin, clicking over to the menu and restarting the movie.
Sara snuggled into Liz's chest, clutching her shirt in her little fist, angling her head a bit so she could see the screen.
Samar leaned back into the pillows on her side of the bed, getting comfortable, just as Hudson jumped up onto the foot of the bed and curled up between their feet. Samar reached out to pet him with one foot, wiggling her socked toes against his fur for a moment. She sunk down further into the pillows, then turned onto her side and reached out to stroke Sara's hair gently before tucking her arm back into her chest and propping her head up to watch the screen.
Within the first half hour of the movie – Liz hardly paying attention as she thought about Sara and her parents, and Samar and her brother and her mom and dad, her thoughts then drifting to Sam and how much she missed him and how much she wished he could've met Sara, and then drifting back to Samar and Samar and Samar – Sara had fallen asleep on her chest, her tiny lips parted and a thick thread of drool pooling at the corner of her mouth.
As the drool soaked into Liz's shirt, she was brought out of her swirl of thoughts. She smiled down at her daughter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Precious girl," she whispered. She turned her head to smile at Samar, but she'd fallen asleep too, curled up on her side, head tucked into the crook of her arm against the fluffy pillows.
Liz nearly cried at the sight, how innocent and peaceful she looked, how beautiful she was, her long, dark eyelashes pronounced against her skin, her full lips gently pressed together, her thick ponytail of hair cushioned behind her, stray strands of curls falling out in every direction, one beginning to creep its way across her cheek.
God, she wanted so badly to curl up beside her and hold her and bury her face in those curls and kiss away all her pain and show her how much she appreciated her and tell her how perfect she was, how strong, how kind and generous and thoughtful, how much she adored her, how she couldn't have done any of this without her, how much she loved her, I love you I love you I love you…
But instead she tore her eyes away from her sleeping beauty and, as slowly and carefully and quietly as she could, got out of bed and carried Sara back to her crib. She kissed her on the forehead and, once she was sure she wasn't going to wake, crept back into her own bedroom, her heart leaping as she gazed at Samar's still-sleeping form on her bed, on her bed.
She stopped the movie and turned off the television, slipping back into bed, remaining on top of the blankets so as not to wake Samar. But her efforts were thwarted by Hudson who chose that exact moment to lift his head and raise his back paw, urgently scratching at an itch on his neck, his collar spinning around and around with the movement, his tags jangling as loudly as alarm bells in the silence of the room.
Liz felt Samar stirring, but directed her attention at the dog, realizing that her anger at him for ruining the perfect moment was probably a bit unjustified. "Shh, Hudson, stop that," she whispered, sticking her hand out to slow his paw until he took the hint.
She looked back at Samar, who was definitely awake now, and met her gaze, smiling apologetically. "Sorry," Liz whispered, leaning back to lie on her side facing Samar, mirroring her position. "He probably did that on purpose," she grumbled, "because he's mad at you for taking his spot."
Samar chuckled, a small grin turning her lips upward. "I'm sure he did. What an asshole," she said playfully, her voice a bit rough from sleep, a little deeper than usual.
Liz snorted at that while Hudson re-settled himself across the foot of the bed, sprawling out as if he were trying to prove to Samar that this was his territory. "So, Frozen didn't hold your interest, huh?" Liz asked with a teasing smirk.
Samar simply smiled at her in response. "I must have been exceedingly comfortable. I'm rarely asleep at this time of night," she admitted with a shrug, trying to mask the truth of the statement with humor.
Liz bit her lip, watching her for a moment. "You didn't have to do that, you know," she said, her voice a near-whisper.
"What?"
"Any of it," Liz answered instantly. "You were in Sara's room before I was; you were the one trying to comfort her. You held her and kissed her and dried her tears. You cleaned up the glass so I didn't have to worry about it." She paused, and then repeated, even more quietly, "You didn't have to."
Samar smiled softly, her eyes drifting shut. "Of course I didn't have to, but those are the kinds of things you do for someone you love," she mumbled sleepily, easily, with not a hint of hesitation, as if it were the simplest and most obvious statement she'd ever spoken aloud.
Liz's heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest. Was she talking about only Sara, or was she talking about her too? Oh god, she would be overthinking that sentence for the next month, analyzing it until the memory was completely shredded in her mind (wait, had she said it this way or that way?), turning it over and over and over and over-
"Are you okay?" Samar asked then, opening her eyes and reaching for Liz's hand, sliding her own smoothly across the sheets until her palm was resting lightly on top of Liz's knuckles. "I know it must be taxing with this happening every night."
The concern in Samar's eyes and the gentle way she was touching her made Liz forget how to breathe for a moment, but she managed to answer coherently, nodding slightly. "Well, this is the first night I haven't been sobbing when I've come back to bed, so right now? Right now I'm okay," she admitted, a small, grateful smile gracing her features.
Samar swallowed heavily at her words, studying her expression carefully, but she didn't break their gaze and Liz was glad. It seemed Samar's exhaustion had brought back the vulnerability that had been missing earlier on the couch, and Liz wanted to soak it all up until it became a part of her, until she understood every little fragmented piece of the woman whose hand was so sweetly, warmly covering her own.
Liz cleared her throat, still staring into Samar's eyes, and bravely, truthfully, whispered, "I'm glad you're here."
"Me too," Samar whispered back, tightening the grip of her fingers around Liz's hand.
After a moment, Liz finally looked down at the sheets nervously. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, uncertain if she should even be asking at all.
Samar let her head descend deeper into the softness of the pillow and thought for a few seconds. "I will be," she finally replied.
Liz had assumed the answer would be along those lines. She looked back at Samar's beautiful face, wanting to trace every line formed by stress or weariness or devastation, the touch of her finger erasing all those bad moments from her consciousness. But instead, she simply whispered, "I'm sorry," for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
Samar breathed out a faint chuckle. "I know. But I'll be all right," she assured her. "Yes, those wounds will always be there, ready to reopen at a moment's notice like they did today. Each loss is a piece of me that's gone, a place inside of me that's empty and that hurts if I stare at it for too long. But I haven't lost all my pieces, Liz."
Liz blinked back tears and smiled, so genuinely, so brightly, that she was afraid Samar would see the words I love you broadcast across the room, projected onto the wall, written on her forehead. "No you haven't," she murmured, lowering her head to her pillow, unable to tear her eyes away from Samar, until finally, they were so heavy with exhaustion that she couldn't help but let them fall closed.
And then, after several minutes, she heard Samar's voice slipping through her half-asleep state of awareness – "goodnight, Liz, I'll see you in the morning" – and felt her starting to pull her hand away. Without opening her eyes, Liz instinctively closed her fingers around Samar's wrist before she could escape and mumbled, "No, stay, you can sleep here."
"Are you sure?" Samar asked, cautious.
"Yes, don't be dumb," Liz muttered, tugging on Samar's hand until she could feel her weight shifting back into place.
Samar snorted. "You're bossy when you're half asleep," she joked as she slid between the sheets, scooting them out from under Liz's body and pulling them up over both of them, then sinking down, burrowing into the soft mountains of pillows and blankets.
Liz smiled lazily, a bit lopsided, and blindly reached down to adjust the blankets, tucking them between her body and her arm. She turned her face further into the pillow, her hair falling down to form a little curtain, and shifted her hips and her legs into a more comfortable position.
If she'd opened her eyes, she would've seen the look on Samar's face – the soft smile, the love in her eyes, the way she bit her lip as she reached out with one hand, only to falter and let it fall to rest on the sheets between them.
But she didn't. Her eyes remained closed, and soon, so soon, she was asleep, happier than she'd been all week.
