Page 55 of Mercy
Liam leaves money on the table for the bill and tip. We walk together back to the car. It isn’t lost on me that, to observing eyes, we look like a happy family. But the truth is that after this little girl finishes treatment and is cancer free, I’ll never see her again. Liam probably will for the occasional check-up but she’ll be out of my life permanently. As we drive down the road, I stare out the window, looking at nothing, trapped in my emotions.
“Are you okay?” Liam asks me.
I nod. Ivy is in the back seat playing on her new tablet. Liam already set it up and charged it, so it was ready to go.
Biting my lip, I try to suppress the emotions that threaten to bubble over.
“Baby, what is it?”
“Nothing. Now’s not the time, I’m fine, just thinking,” I ramble.
“Have you been here before?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to see it. I love butterflies.”
“It’s amazing. If you're still sometimes they’ll land on you. They sell nectar as well so you can feed them.”
I paste a fake smile on my face, “She’ll love that.”
We get out of the car and Ivy is feeling one thing, pure excitement. It oozes from her; it’s overflowing and beautiful to watch.
Nineteen
LIAM
As we walk upto the entrance of the Butterfly Conservatory, I can’t keep my eyes off Mercy. Something is wrong with my girl, and I don’t like it one bit. She seems sad, and not at all what I’m used to. The last couple of months she’s been so happy other than when Ivy had surgery. Smiling and laughing have become a constant that I have grown fond of. It’s got to be about the conversation with Ivy regarding where she would be going.
After I pay, we walk in, Ivy’s in the middle between Mercy and me, holding both our hands. If this were a few years down the road I’d want to adopt Ivy, in a heartbeat. But it’s too soon, Mercy isn’t even quite twenty-four yet. While I’m ready for more, I know she’s not. Her career has only just started, she’s too young. As much as I want to, I cannot ask her to do something like that. So, I clear the thought from my mind.
As we stand in the Butterfly Conservatory, a Blue Morpho lands on Ivy’s hand. She freezes so she doesn’t scare it away. Mercy takes out her phone and takes a picture—one close-up of her hand and one showing her sparkling face. If you had to define happiness by showing only a picture, this would do it. It’ll be short-lived, but this is a memory I’ll cherish.
Before long, Ivy is covered with butterflies. There are six on her head, covering her short hair that has begun growing since she’s been out of chemo for a few months. We spend hours here and I’m so glad I did this. It’s bittersweet however, I know this is the only day we’ll ever have like this.
“They have a rose garden here too, should we go see it?”
Both my girls are excited by this idea, “YES!” They shout in unison.
I chuckle, “This way, ladies.”
We walk to the enclosure outside, and we’re surrounded by roses. There must be thousands here.
Mercy walks to the lavender-colored roses and gets close, inhaling their scent.
I commit this to memory, I want to buy her those exact roses because I want to see this look on her face again, this peaceful, content expression is one I want to see repeatedly.
Walking up behind Mercy, I whisper in her ear, “I love you, baby girl.”
She lays her head back on my shoulder, “Thank you for this.”
While Ivy wanders around smelling every color of rose, I take a moment and kiss my girl's neck.
A smile spreads across her beautiful face.
We walk back through the butterfly portion and head out of the building. Everyone is quiet, knowing Ivy has to get back to the hospital.
Climbing into the vehicle Ivy says, “I’m going to stay up and watch movies all night long.”
Shaking my head I say, “Your tablet is on a timer, sweetheart. At seven, it won’t work until seven the next morning.”
