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My right hand that held my new ring was holding onto the necklace with the wrench on it that I never took off.
I never spoke this aloud. Not ever. Only to myself.
But those big hunks of metal were carrying the one thing I loved with all my heart in this world.
“Come on honey. Let's get home and get in bed. Big day tomorrow.” I nodded to my father and let him lead me back across the pavement.
My feet felt as though they were made of lead.
That morning when I woke up, I sent a message to Tank, making sure he made it okay.
After I showered and got ready for the day, I walked into the kitchen, the smell of bacon showing the way.
Smiling, it was to see my dad at the stove. Hearing my footsteps, he sat the spatula down, rounded the island, then pulled me in his arms, “Happy Birthday, Cookie.”
“Thanks, daddy.” I smiled at him.
After he sat me on my feet, he finished with the bacon, then he took the biscuits out of the oven, and made the gravy and eggs.
Needless to say, I was glad that I was wearing some baggy clothes today, because I needed room for my belly.
I had a good day. I couldn’t call it great. Because there was one person missing that I wanted there more than anything,
Lena and everyone around me did their best and I appreciated it all the more.
Later that afternoon, I saw my dad check his phone, smile wide, then put it back in his pocket, then, he tagged my hand, and said, “Trust me?”
I sighed then shook my head and smiled, “With my life.”
He nodded, “Good.”
That was when he led me to his bike, “This is going to feel weird I’m sure, but you know how to ride.”
I was about to ask him what he was talking about when he pulled a blindfold from his back pocket, “Turn around for me, Cookie.”
I narrowed my eyes and then did as he asked.
After he helped me on the bike, he climbed on, and then once we were ready, he started it up.
“Hold on tight Cookie.” Nodding, I did just that and held on tight.
It was about ten minutes later when we finally came to a permanent stop and the bike turned off.
I sighed, gratefully, needless to say, I didn’t ever plan on riding on the back of a bike with a blindfold ever again.
He helped me off first and then said, “Keep that on for me, Cookie.”
After I nodded, he took my hand and then said, “You’re walking on pavement. I’ll tell you when we need to step up on the stairs.”
And he did just that. We walked a few steps, probably twenty or so, and then he told me to step up five times.
After he brought us to a stop, he said, “Okay Cookie, take the blindfold off.”
I did and took in everything around me.
We were standing on a cute little white porch. It had a black wrought iron railing on it, the same color of white steps below it.
In front of me was a red-painted door, with two huge windows on either side with black shutters to match the railing.
