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15...

Somehow, I expected to find everything completely changed when I walked back through those cold, sterile doors out into the world. It felt wrong that nothing was different but me. The sun still blazed high above and the steady hum of traffic and noise still filled the air. I paused, staring up at the clear blue sky and tried to figure out what I should do, but my mind felt empty and numb. All I could think to do was keep moving, and so I began to walk. It didn't matter where I was or what I was doing; all I could do was follow the path my feet chose to take.

Then, after passing through an endless number of streets and neighborhoods, I found myself staring up at the window of Marie's parent's place. I staggered a little as a flood of memories hit. I could hear her laughter on the wind, feel the first hesitant kisses, hear her voice calling up to her parents that she was marrying me, see the hint of moonlight on her face as we drove off to our lives together. I closed my eyes, struggling to push the thoughts away. Remembering was too much; I had to keep moving or else I was gonna fall apart. So, I took a big breath and forced myself to the front door.

I don't know what I expected. I'm not even sure I expected anything at all. There were tears and strangled cries, lots of anger, and finally a sort of weary acceptance. It was my fault. In Nick's eyes, everything was my fault. She should've had the van and I shouldn't have been working the swing shift. I shouldn't have let her walk... What could I do but stand there and take it? Nick was only saying what I was thinking.

The stairs up to Mrs. Rossini's apartment loomed large before me and I dreaded what was waiting for me when I got to the top. I didn't even think that Sam would be anywhere but there. Mrs. R, she always looked after Sam, and if Marie wasn't there, then Mrs. R would be. She'd been there for me when I was growing up. She was there for me now. Of course, she'd be there for Sam.

My hand fell heavy on the door and I could hear Mrs. R's irritated squawk as she bustled over to the peephole. She flung open the door and immediately began scolding me for knocking. Didn't I know better? I was family and I should just come right in. She went on like that for a long time before realizing that I was just standing there, not saying a word. Her voice trailed off as she stopped and peered into my face.

"My God, Tony what's happened?"

Feeling a sudden rush of emotion, I shook my head and croaked, "Is Sam here?"

"Tony, what's going on? Why are you? Why isn't?" She stopped again before asking in a tremulous voice, "Where's Marie?"

I met her eyes then and I think she saw the truth in my eyes. "No." She shook her head and finger at me. "She's just runnin' late, right? Or she's sick, or...or..."

I couldn't say anything, but it didn't matter because in a heartbeat she'd clobbered me with a breathtaking hug. "No! No, not that!" she cried, finding her tears more easily than me. I let her hug me but I was thinking about Sam. More than anything, I needed to see her and know she was all right. "Mrs. Rossini, I gotta talk to Samantha."

She took a step back, giving me a sorrowful look before replying, "She's in the other room watching television, the poor darling. I'll get her. You just sit."

I don't remember much of what I said to Sam. How do you tell your little girl that her mother's never going to be around again? How do you tell her that the best thing in her world suddenly just isn't in it anymore?

She took it silently, stoically, with those big brown eyes staring up at me. She was eight and a half years old and her life wasn't supposed to be this way. She didn't cry, didn't react, she just listened to my faltering words and when I'd finally managed out all I could, she took my hand and spoke to me solemnly, "We're gonna be okay Daddy, don't worry."

I nodded and kissed her forehead, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes for the first time. "I love you Samantha...your Mommy, she...." but I couldn't go on.

"It's okay Daddy."

I closed my eyes and shook my head as she crawled into my arms. It wasn't okay, but I hoped that someday it would be.

The next couple of days passed in an endless fog filled with visitors and casserole dishes. It wasn't until later, after the funeral, after the wake, and after our fridge was packed full with food, that reality began to settle in. My father drove me back to the hospital to pick up my van. He seemed to know that words weren't what I needed, so we drove in silence until we reached the parking lot. Then, as the car idled under yet another steamy day, he cleared his throat. "You take the time you need. I stay with Sam until you come back."

He wasn't one for words, never much of a talker. He'd been in my shoes though, and he knew. All he could do was let me be.

When he was gone, I reached up to adjust the visor against the sun and something tumbled into my lap. It was the button Marie'd tacked up there on our wedding day. It hit me then; she was gone and I was alone.