A/N: Yeah, we don't have to discuss how long it took me to get this chapter out.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart). I am never without it.

~ e.e. cummings

I'm a creature of habit. Normally I wake up every day at five, shower, get dressed, and start my work day. I eat breakfast and lunch at my desk, often even dinner. When Stephanie and I had been together, I'd only eaten lunch at my desk. We had made a habit of eating breakfast and dinner together in the apartment, even though it meant she dragged herself out of bed to eat with me and then went back to sleep when I left to start my day. These days I kept myself busy from the time I woke up until I fell asleep. Stephanie had initially been concerned about my work schedule when we became a couple because she said I worked all the time. The truth was I had worked all the time because I had nothing else in my life. I had changed that for her, but once she had left me I'd gone back to my old ways, working even more than I had before our year together. I had been away from Trenton for four weeks and even though Stella and I had a routine that worked well for her, I was still struggling to find my own footing. I loved Stella and would do anything for her, but I missed my office. I missed going down to the fifth floor each day, riding around Trenton on patrols, and the quiet comfort of my apartment. There was rarely a second of quiet in the house with a three-year-old around.

Thanks to Alison's connections within the courts, we had been able to get an emergency hearing with a judge in the family courts the second Monday in December. She had presented the case to the judge along with the results of the DNA test Stella and I had taken a few days earlier. She stated that all I was seeking at the moment was to establish my parental rights to Stella and that other factors such as child support and custodial terms could be further discussed once Stephanie was in better health. Katie had been called as a character witness to state that Stephanie made it clear that her intentions were to inform me of my child and to work out the best terms possible for her given our circumstances and that I had been doing very well taking care of Stella. Stephanie's doctor had provided a statement regarding her current status and long-term prospects. She had been taken off the ventilator two days after Stella and I had taken our DNA test, but was struggling to speak. Her current ability to communicate was limited to yes/no head shakes and pointing to pictures on a large card. She was currently undergoing extensive speech therapy along with occupational and physical therapy to regain skills. Her left side was showing weakness and she was demonstrating symptoms of depression and anxiety, possibly even PTSD. Her long-term recovery was generally positive, but the full reach of her recovery was unknown and possibly wouldn't be fully realized for a few years.

After taking a brief recess, the judge stated he had spoken to Stephanie's doctor on the phone and would be taking a court-appointed attorney with him along with Alison and a court reporter to interview Stephanie in her hospital room to determine her wishes. I could tell he was suspicious of me since Stephanie had failed to inform me we had a child together, but I didn't argue. The interview with Stephanie had been conducted the next day and through being asked yes/no questions she was able to state that she consented to joint custody, to changing Stella's last name to Manoso, and that I would provide Stephanie with a set amount of money each month for Stella's care. I had every intention of providing more than that, but it had been the amount set by the court. The judged signed the order later that day without the need for us to return to the court house. I had set to work right away getting her birth certificate and social security information updated with the name change so that I could get her signed up for preschool. We had toured three schools in the past week and I had been happiest with the second one, a Montessori school with a day care that was only a few blocks away from the house. Stella would start there in January.

"You don't have to tell everyone your full name," I told Stella after she introduced herself to a group of Amish women shopping at the local grocery store. It had only been a week since I'd officially informed her of her new last name, but she was already using it with everyone she met.

"I like my new name," she replied cheerfully. "Stella Manoso, Stella Manoso." She said her name in a sing-song voice and wiggled in the child seat on the cart. An older woman passing us made approving noises.

"Aren't you adorable?" she said.

"I know," Stella replied, which elicited a laugh from the older woman. I fought back a laugh as well. She had inherited her modesty from me.

The Stella Manoso Song lasted through the rest of the shopping trip and the self-check-out line. I felt a headache coming on by the time I loaded Stella and the groceries into the car. It was two days before Christmas and we had been in the checkout line for what felt like an eternity.

"Can Mommy come home?" Stella asked as we drove through the city. She still asked the question every day.

"Not for a while. And you can't go see her right now because the hospital won't let kids inside yet," I replied, anticipating her follow-up question.

That was entirely true, but the biggest factor of all was Stephanie. She was emotional and often agitated, frustrated that she couldn't make people understand what she wanted to say, that she seemed to have issues remembering things that had happened, and that she had to rely on strangers for everything from toileting to eating to sitting up. I visited her every day and updated her on how Stella was doing. My visits always made her emotional, though I wasn't sure if it was me, talking about Stella, or a combination of the two in addition to everything else. She always tried to talk, but the sounds that came out of her mouth were unintelligible. I constantly reassured her that it would get better and hoped I wasn't wrong. The speech therapist had asked Katie to bring Stephanie's iPad to the hospital so that she could use apps on it to better communicate. Katie had texted me earlier in the day to say Stephanie had used it with her and she had been able to express herself a little more and could spell out words.

Helen and Frank had both needed to go back home for a while and had felt more comfortable doing so once Stephanie had been moved out of ICU. Helen and my parents were all leaving New Jersey the same day to come out to Indiana, but on separate flights. They would end up on the same flight from Detroit to Fort Wayne.

Katie arrived at the house shortly before six, which gave me time to go up to the hospital to visit Stephanie.

"Please be back by seven-thirty. I have a date," Katie said as she helped Stella finish dinner and get ready for her bath. "I've been putting him off for about a month because of Steph, but now that she is on the mend I told him I could go out with him before I leave town for the holiday."

"My parents should be here around seven. My mother just texted to say the plane had landed, so they just have to pick up their luggage and get the rental car. Helen said she was just going to check in at her hotel and she'll be over tomorrow," I said. I told her goodbye and that I would probably see her after she got back from Florida.

Stephanie was now in room 3402, which was in the neurological unit. She would be able to stay there as long as the hospital could justify that level of care. Once insurance—or better yet, the doctors—had decided Stephanie needed to leave the hospital, she would be transferred to a rehabilitation facility. The best scenario would be for her to come back to Trenton for her recovery, but I suspected Stephanie wouldn't agree to it. She had refused to interact with her mother whenever Helen had tried to talk to her.

I found Stephanie sitting up in bed being fed by a nurse when I arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes later. She had been placed on a diet of soft foods for now, but was currently unable to feed herself. Her coordination and unsteadiness only resulted in her dropping the utensils and wearing her food instead of eating it. The nurse was having Stephanie hold the spoon and was helping her guide it to her mouth.

"Hello, Carlos," the nurse said brightly. Her name was Melody and I had placed her in her late twenties. All of the nurses knew me by name. "She's almost done. Just another two bites."

Stephanie looked in my direction as she took another bite. The swelling and bruising on her face had been slowly fading and she looked more like herself every time I saw her. A large cup with a handle and a straw sat on the tray table beside her. A sign had been placed over her bed the day she moved into the room. It was yellow and simply said Yes/No questions only. There were far fewer machines helping her now and only two tubes came out of her body, an IV and a catheter.

I didn't speak until after the nurse had left. She had handed Stephanie the iPad before leaving the room.

"Katie told me you've been using that to talk," I said, nodding at the tablet sitting in her lap. "How are you today?"

Stephanie took a minute to process what I'd asked her before turning her attention to the ipad. She seemed to be struggling to focus her gaze on the screen, but eventually moved her right hand shakily towards something on the screen and touched it.

I'm angry. The voice that expressed her feelings was feminine, but robotic.

"Yeah, I get that," I said, taking a seat on the bed next to her. "But you're strong. You'll get through this."

A tear slipped down her cheek. She pressed another button on the screen.

Stella. The voice that said the name was a human voice, clearly one that had been recorded instead of computer generated.

"She's good. She likes her new last name, tells it to everyone she meets. Still has another couple of weeks with the cast, but her arm should be good as new. And she misses you. Are you sure you don't want to Facetime with her?"

Stephanie shook her head and looked for another button. Once she found it, a keyboard popped up. I watched as she slowly typed out something, missing spaces and words and transposing letters. But the point was clear.

Want takl notscare her

"I know," I said, reaching over to hold her hand. "But I think it scares her more not being able to see you. Even just a minute would help her. And I think it would help you too."

She kept shaking her head and didn't stop, seeming to become more agitated with every shake.

"Okay. We won't do it now," I told her. "I'll wait until you're ready. Do you want to see some pictures of her? It's ridiculous how many I have on my phone."

We sat and looked through pictures on my phone until a text message came through from my mother.

We just got to Stephanie's. Katie is leaving to get ready for her date.

"My parents are here for Christmas," I told Stephanie. "Your mother is here too."

Stephanie had been happy looking at Stella's pictures, but her expression became stony at the mention of her mother. She glared at me as though I were personally responsible.

"I know. Did she try to apologize when she was here before?" I asked.

Stephanie looked confused at my question so I elaborated. "Did she try to apologize when she visited you in ICU?"

This seemed like new information to Stephanie. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. She didn't seem to remember her mother being there, which wasn't surprising given what she had just been through.

The doctors had told us that short-term memory loss was a possibility with Stephanie. It may get better as her brain healed, but there was the chance that she would always have some struggles to retain new information. As with many things, the long-term damage done by the accident would be better revealed over time.

"She and your dad came to Fort Wayne as soon as I called them," I told her. "They got divorced two years ago and both of them are in new relationships."

Stephanie let out an audible gasp at the news. She looked down at her iPad and typed.

Why

I was already beginning to regret telling her that they'd divorced because of the look on her face. I didn't have the nerve to tell her that her mother had been sleeping with someone else and walked out on her dad, so I shrugged. "I don't know. Your father said it was nice to be with someone who cared what he thought and wasn't wrapped up in what everyone else around them thought about her. Your mother didn't say much on the matter. She's dating Paul Giancarlo, the used car salesman. And your father is living with a woman named Cynthia down in Florida."

There was a minute of silence while Stephanie processed everything I had just told her, then she started to cry. I put an arm around her and held her while she cried. It didn't seem to matter if you were six or thirty-six, it still hurt when your parents split up. I would have a hard time if my parents got divorced after decades of marriage.

Melody came in while I was trying to get Stephanie settled. Once she had started crying, she didn't seem to be able to stop, only escalate.

"What's wrong, Stephanie?" Melody asked calmly. "Are you in pain?"

"I told her that her parents have gotten divorced and are seeing other people. It upset her more than I thought."

Melody gave me a knowing look and patted Stephanie's arm. "I'm sorry, Stephanie. That's painful. Do you want something to help you relax? I was going to get you cleaned up and ready for bed."

Stephanie continued to sobbed and didn't give an answer. Melody said she would be right back and returned a few minutes later with a computer on a rolling cart. She pulled out a packet, scanned it, scanned Stephanie's hospital band, and then popped a pill out of the packet and into a small plastic cup.

"Take this," Melody told Stephanie, holding the cup up to her mouth. Stephanie allowed the pill to be poured into her mouth and then swallowed it with a drink from the cup on her table next to the bed. "You'll start to feel better soon."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I told Stephanie. I hated to leave her like this, but could tell the nurse wanted to get her work done. She was likely at the end of her shift and ready to go home.

Melody told Stephanie she would be right back and followed me out of the room.

"I'm sorry to upset her," I told her. "I didn't know she would react that way."

Melody shook her head. "She's easily upset, which isn't surprising. We see a lot of TBI patients here and many of them react the same way. It may get better once she can talk more. She has Ativan available for when she gets like that."

I arrived at Stephanie's twenty minutes later to find a blue sedan parked in the driveway. My parents and Stella were sitting in the living room together when I walked into the house. I had assembled Stephanie's artificial Christmas tree a week earlier and Stella had helped decorate it. Katie had helped me by going out to buy things she knew Stella wanted or needed and the wrapped presents had been under the tree for a couple of days. I could tell my parents had added some gifts of their own to the pile.

"Hi, Daddy!" Stella said happily. "We playing with Boston."

My parents and I discussed Stephanie's condition in Spanish while Stella teased the cat with a cat-nipped filled fish hanging from a plastic pole. They informed me that Helen had been friendly enough on the plane from Detroit, but had seemed distracted. My mother said she asked what Paul was doing for the holiday, but Helen had simply said he was spending it with his adult children and hadn't elaborated further.

My mother did the bedtime routine with Stella while I went for a run and my father opened a beer and turned on the last half of a football game. The air was frigid and hurt my lungs as I jogged around the neighborhood. I intended to join a gym after the holiday and currently regretted putting it off. Indiana was colder than New Jersey and running outdoors in late December wasn't the best idea. I ended up cutting my run short and heading back to the house after only twenty minutes.

My parents would be staying until New Year's Day, so they would be taking Stephanie's bed and I would sleeping on the pull-out sofa I had purchased for Stephanie's office after realizing they intended to stay with us for the holiday. I had offered to put them up at a hotel, but my mother had insisted it wasn't necessary, not seeming to catch that I might deem it necessary. But I hadn't had the energy to argue with her and decided to take advantage of having two other adults in the house those nine days. I could accomplish some tasks that were difficult to get done with Stella in tow and that couldn't be done in the evening after Katie got off work. Maybe I could even go to the grocery store by myself. Not only had I failed to appreciate all the effort Ella put into shopping throughout the years she had worked for me, but I had an all new appreciation for parents who shopped with their kids. It was like taking your worst behaved friend out when they were shit-faced. They had no filter, wanted every ridiculous thing there was, cried and got mad over nothing, or sang loudly as you moved as fast as possible to get everything you needed and to get the hell out of there before they made fools of themselves and you. At first I had been amazed Stephanie could manage it without losing her mind, then I remembered the training in humiliation she had received while working as a bounty hunter. I suspected she was immune to embarrassment by the time Stella was old enough to start having tantrums at the store.

My mother came into the bedroom as I was gathering a few days' worth of clothes to take into the office with me so that I didn't need to constantly come in while they were staying.

"Stella's asleep," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "She seems to be well-adjusted to being with you, even though she misses Stephanie. And she loves being Stella Manoso."

"Yeah, she has been telling everyone she meets. She even turned her name into a song at the grocery store today."

My mother chuckled. "She's precious. How are you doing? I haven't heard from you much since I left."

I shrugged. "I'm fine. It's hard to work with Stella here. She'll start going to preschool two mornings a week after the first of the year and there's a daycare she can go the rest of the week, but I need to find someone who can help out when day care is closed. I know Katie would help out, but she shouldn't always have to take care of Stella whenever I'm not here. It's my responsibility to find someone and pay them to do it."

I wasn't looking at my mother, but could sense the disapproval wafting in my direction.

"What?" I asked without turning around.

"I told you I would help you. Why would you hire a complete stranger to take care of her?"

"Because I need someone who can come in and stay with her easily enough if I had to leave town for a work emergency. You have a job and Dad in Jersey. You can't relocate to Indiana just because of this mess."

"Mess?" my mother asked, her tone reaching a danger point. "Are you referring to your daughter as a mess?"

"No, the mess I'm referring to is the fact that I didn't know about my daughter until a month ago and that I am stuck in Indiana indefinitely because Stephanie's a stubborn jackass."

Neither of us spoke for another minute as I gathered up the last of my things.

"You never did tell me how you're doing," my mother said as I made to leave the room.

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't. You told me how work was going and how you need to find a babysitter. You didn't tell me how you are doing. You're taking care of a child by yourself when you aren't even used to caring for one with a partner. You have Stephanie to worry about as well. How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," I told her. I took my clothes into the office next door and she followed me.

"Don't give me that, Carlos. Have you forgotten that I was with you the day you got the call? Or that I was with you those first few days? I know you still love her. It isn't easy to watch someone you love suffer." She put a hand on my back as I piled clothes on a table in the corner. "Katie told us how hard it has been on Stephanie to find herself unable to talk or do anything for herself."

I didn't want to have this conversation. Acknowledging my own feelings was terrifying at the best of times. To start, I loved Stella more than I knew was possible to love anyone. It wasn't just moral obligation, but love. I wasn't used to the feeling. I loved Julie, but it wasn't the same as I felt about Stella. I had sacrificed more for Stella in the last month than I had for Julie in her entire life, a fact which hadn't escaped Julie when I called to tell her about Stella. She had angrily hung up on me and had refused to take my calls or respond to my texts since.

Then there were my feelings for Stephanie. They had never gone away, and now getting to see her everyday was making me realize just how much I still loved her. It was agonizing to see her suffer because she couldn't do something for herself. I wanted to change places with her. She was a good person who didn't deserve what had happened to her. I was the type of person who deserved to be incapacitated by an injury. I had killed people—had actually murdered a man— but here I was in perfect form. I'd been injured before, but never to the extent of Stephanie's injuries. I had never worried about bouncing back from it.

But what really terrified me was a very small, dark part of me that felt like maybe she did deserve some of this. Not to die, not to be permanently disabled, but to suffer a little because of everything she had put me through. She had broken my heart and then kept me from my child for the first three years of her life. I could never get that time back. But I didn't like that part of myself. I was ashamed of that part. And I would put a bullet in my head before I'd ever acknowledge it out loud.

"It's hard, but she's stubborn. I know she'll fight like hell to get strong again. And I'll make sure she has whatever she needs," I told my mother, hoping it would be enough to get her off my back. "I keep hoping she'll come back to Jersey, but I don't think so. She refuses to have anything to do with her mother. I told her today about her parents being divorced and it upset her."

"That's understandable," my mother said. "Her whole world has been turned upside-down and no matter what her relationship was with them recently that solid rock of what she would expect to know if she turned up at their house is now gone. She's separated from her child, probably conflicted about you being here, and she's unable to take care of herself or even voice her opinion clearly. To learn her parents, the people who made her and raised, are now living separate lives would be overwhelming for anyone, let alone someone who has been through all she has."

I was always amazed by people who could put words to emotions. Thankfully, my mother seemed to understand that she wouldn't be getting anything else out of me and left the office. I shut the door and decided to keep to myself the rest of the evening. I did some work on my computer and made a to-do list of personal tasks I needed to take care of while my parents were in town.

Helen came over on Christmas Eve to visit with Stella while my mother began preparing things for Christmas dinner the next day and my father wandered around Stephanie's house looking for things to fix. My mother had invited Helen to have Christmas dinner with us when they'd been on the plane from Detroit together and she had accepted. Helen had brought Stella's gifts over to the house and let her open them early. Stella was kept occupied playing with a stuffed cat that looked just like Boston while Helen asked for updates on Stephanie.

"She still isn't speaking, but can answer yes/no questions and do a few things with an ipad," I told her as we sat on the sofa together. "But she doesn't remember you being here before. I told her about you and Frank being divorced. She was pretty upset about it."

The Helen Plum who had shown up to Indiana this time was different than she had been at Thanksgiving. Looking back, I should have realized she was in shock when she had arrived immediately after the accident. The strain had clearly caught up to her, along with a lot more guilt for what had gone down between her and Stephanie in the past.

"Did you tell her about my affair?" Helen asked.

I shook my head. "Not my place."

Helen nodded and watched Stella playing for a minute without speaking. "Paul's children hate me. They think I'm just with him for his money. That's why we were in Jamaica for Thanksgiving instead of at dinner with his family. Last year was a disaster and we vowed not to repeat it. We had planned that we were going on vacation for Thanksgiving, Christmas dinner with Valerie and Albert, and then he'd go over alone that evening to visit the children and grandchildren. But after what happened to Stephanie, he decided to spend Christmas with his children. He feels guilty for pushing them away because of me." A tear slid down her cheek. "Am I really that awful? I not only chase my own daughter away, but also other people's children as well?"

I didn't comment because I had nothing good to say on the matter and Helen didn't elaborate further. She stayed a little bit longer before going up to the hospital to see Stephanie.

My father, ever the contractor, stated he was going to the hardware store to buy supplies to fix the door to Stephanie's laundry room, which refused to stay shut and left almost immediately after Helen. My mother came into the living room wearing an apron and wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"I have everything ready that I can get ready for tomorrow," she said. "Will Katie be joining us? I forgot to ask her last night."

"No, she left this morning to go to her parents' house. They live in Sarasota. She'll be back on Saturday."

The rest of the day was spent with my father swearing in the other room, but at the same time refusing my help, my mother cleaning the house because apparently I wasn't doing a good enough job of it, and Stella spent the afternoon cuddled in my lap sleeping. At one point I brushed some hair off her forehead and found it warm to the touch. My mother found a thermometer that measured temperature in the ear and took Stella's temperate while she slept. It read 102.4F.

"It may just be a virus," she told me. "We'll give her some Tylenol and a bath and see if that helps it go down."

Stella didn't want to take her medicine and it took me holding her while my mother poured the red liquid into her mouth. She eventually swallowed it, but only after spitting it out twice all over me. My mother attempted to take Stella to the bathroom, but she only wanted me, clinging to me like I was a life raft. I had been hoping to get up to Stephanie's room before it was too late, but Stella screamed and held on to me when I tried to tell her I was leaving once she has been bathed and put into pajamas.

"She's not feeling well and wants you," my mother said, as if I couldn't have figured it out for myself. "How about I go up to visit Stephanie tonight? I'll explain what's going on, but tell her not to worry. I'm sure she'll be fine."

I sat in the recliner with Stella to watch another football game with my father after my mother left. Stella fell asleep again holding her stuffed cat and the real cat jumped into my lap and curled up next to them. I kept feeling her forehead to see if the fever was gone. She didn't feel warm, but I knew that might change once the medication wore off. I kept almost texting Katie, but would erase it each time before I could send it. My mother was a nurse. She would tell me when or if she thought I should reach out to Katie.

My father was asleep on the couch when my mother arrived home two hours later. She nudged him and told him to go to bed before taking his spot on the sofa.

"How was she?" I asked.

"Upset. Worried about Stella. Probably lonely being at the hospital during the holiday. It didn't seem like things went well with her mother today. She was trying to spell it out on the ipad, but some of it was difficult to understand. But she was able to tell me that Stella tends to be asymptomatic with ear infections and that this is how she normally behaves when she has one. I called Katie after I left the hospital and she said she would call in an antibiotic for her. She gave the 24-hour pharmacy your phone number and they'll text when it's ready to be picked up."

"You managed to get all of that information out of Stephanie?"

"It wasn't easy. It took a lot of interpretation and asking the right questions. That's part of the reason I was up there so long. But I think she was happy to see me. I told her we'll make sure to record Stella opening Christmas gifts so she can see it and that you'll be able to get away tomorrow to see her."

A text came through at ten-thirty that Stella's medication was ready. My mother went to pick it up and we fought a similar battle with trying to get the antibiotic into Stella until she realized she liked the flavor. I tried to put her to bed, but she didn't want me to leave her. After three failed attempts to slip out when I thought she was asleep, I finally just took her into the office with me and let her sleep on the pull-out with me. She often ended up getting into bed with me at night because she would wake up and find me gone. But tonight I couldn't even have space. If she wasn't touching me, she started crying. I eventually just had to hold her and do my best not to roll over on her.

I had anticipated her being up early on Christmas morning, but was surprised when my mother woke us both up at eight to give Stella another dose of antibiotic and to tell her that Santa had visited while she had been asleep. She hurried out of bed and went running into the living room. I accepted a cup of coffee from my mother while I recorded Stella's frenzied present opening on my phone. She would squeal with delight every time she opened something, running over to thank me or my parents whenever she found out who gave it to her. When it came to gifts that had been designated as being from Stephanie or Katie, she would simply yell out her thank you to them and move on to the next present. Christmas hadn't held much meaning for me since I had been a child myself, but Stella's happiness seemed contagious. I was surprised when Stella was done unwrapping her own gifts and picked up a small rectangular box wrapped in silver.

"This is for you," she said proudly as she handed it to me. I saw the tag on the gift said To: Daddy From: Stella.

"Open it!" she shrieked before I could even register what was happening.

"Okay, okay," I said, trying to stop the recording on my phone, but my mother simply took it and turned the camera on us.

I unwrapped the paper to find a picture of Stella in a silver five-by-seven frame. It was a professional shot that had been taken on what looked like a wooden walkway over a creek. The leaves in the background told me the picture had been taken in the fall. Stella was in a blue dress, lying on her stomach on the bridge with her feet in the air and her chin propped up on her hands. She was smiling and looking at a spot over the photographer's shoulder. Probably at Stephanie.

"You have it at work," Stella told me, touching the frame. "You like it?"

"I love it," I told her and gave her a kiss and a hug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said. She ran over to get her stocking off the wall and dumped it on the floor, cheering every time she found something new.

"Katie said she took that picture on Stella's birthday this year," my mother told me once Stella had finished emptying her stocking and the recording on my phone had been stopped. "Stephanie apparently told her you aren't the type of person who has personal pictures around in your office or apartment, so Katie was determined to rectify that."

I looked down at the frame in my lap. "I like it. She's a good photographer."

Helen arrived at noon just as my mother was pulling the last dish out of the oven. She tried to smile and appear happy for Stella's sake, but I could tell she was miserable. She and my parents made small talk over lunch and Stella was also a useful distraction. Once Stella was down for a nap and my father and I cleaned up dishes, Helen told us what had happened when she went to see Stephanie.

"I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't even look at me. I tried to say I was sorry, but she didn't even act like she heard me. When I tried to hold her hand she starting screaming until a nurse came rushing in. I explained what was going on, but Stephanie was so upset the nurse told me I should probably leave and try another time. They had to give her something to calm down," she finished, dabbing at her eyes as she spoke. "I know I've made mistakes, but I'm afraid she'll never forgive me."

"Apparently it's all about her and not her injured daughter lying in the hospital on Christmas day," my father muttered quietly to me in Spanish as we washed dishes.

"This is nothing new," I replied. My mother probably couldn't hear us, and even if Helen could she wouldn't be able to understand.

I left at four to go up to the hospital to visit Stephanie. Stella had wanted me to take a small stuffed zebra to give to Stephanie for Christmas. It looked like it had been kicked around the block a few times, but it was one of her favorites. I made sure she wanted Stephanie to keep it because I didn't want to have to deal with her having a tantrum because she changed her mind. She was sure and started telling me I had to take it.

The television was turned on to HGTV when I arrived at Stephanie's room, but she was asleep. I took a seat in the chair next to the bed and watched her sleep. If I hadn't known what she had been through, I might have thought she had just gotten banged up in a minor car accident or maybe a fall down the stairs with a big FTA. Anyone watching her sleep wouldn't know she couldn't talk or walk or sit up on her own right now. All I wanted for Christmas was for Stephanie to get better. I wanted her to be able to tell me I was an asshole or to talk about shopping at the mall. I wanted her to be able to run after Stella and wear high heels in a sexy dress. I wanted her to be able to do all things she could do before a man had a heart attack in his car and crashed into her. I knew I should be grateful that she was alive, and I was, but I wanted more for her. Maybe it was selfish, but I knew it wasn't all just for me. I wanted her to be all of this for Stella too. And Katie. And herself.

Stephanie eventually woke up and saw me sitting in the chair. I got up and went to sit on the edge of her bed. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and wished her a Merry Christmas.

"Stella wanted me to give this to you," I told her, pulling the zebra out of my pocket. Stephanie weakly reached for it and I placed it in her right hand. She held it up to her chest and fought tears. Clearly the animal held as much meaning to her as it did Stella, and for a moment I felt resentment flair up inside me. I didn't know the story behind that zebra because I hadn't been allowed to be here. Stella wasn't a reliable source and right now Stephanie couldn't tell me much. So until she could, I was left in the dark.

It must have shown on my face because Stephanie began mouthing words, the sounds barely a whisper and incoherent. It took several tries for me to figure out what she was trying to say.

"I'm sorry."

I felt guilty for being an asshole on Christmas and squeezed her hand. "I know. Don't worry about it. We'll have plenty of time to talk about things later. Do you want to watch Stella opening her gifts? I recorded it."

Stephanie nodded and we sat together without talking for the next half hour as we watched our daughter enjoy her Christmas.