"Am I going to die today?" A blue-beaded bracelet stirred as Nurse Bonnie lifted the tiny wrist and took pulse.

"What would make you ask that? Do you want to die Sarah?" Nothing Sarah said surprised Nurse Bonnie anymore. The eight-year old was extraordinary and could handle truths better than adults.

"I am sad being here."

"Why, because of your parents? You know, your mom loves you very much. She comes to visit you all the time."

"I love my mommy. But Aunt Ruth told me that when you die, you go somewhere where people aren't sad or hungry."

"Do you believe that?"

"I don't know." Sarah's bright blue eyes locked with the nurse's, "Even if I go to another world like this one, at least it'd be different. Different people to help, different people to love. What if there's a family I've never met, waiting for me there? Would I have a dad..." Her tone dropped as if she'd said something offensive.

Nurse Bonnie grabbed the grey teddy from a nightstand and handed it to the eager child, "A lot of families don't have daddies. My dad left when I was fourteen. But you know what? I'm just as good a person as I would've been with a daddy. Maybe I'm even better."

Sarah nodded her head weakly, but her expression was lively as it always was.

"My daddy is coming to see me," she whispered. "I can feel it. I'll hold on 'till then."

Angela gripped the phone, her hands shaking from frustration. Long blond curls slipped and bounced beside her eyes, begging to be noticed. She tucked them behind her ear. After six rings a man's voice answered, "What is it?"

She paused for a moment, unsure if it really was him.

"Hello?" He took the phone from his ear to hang it up when he suddenly heard a woman's voice.

"Jack."

He recognized a voice he hadn't heard in years. "Who is this?"

"It's Angela. I'm sorry I called, but Sarah...your daughter is sick."

"You want money? Is that it? All you had to do was send a letter."

Angela sobbed although she'd promised herself she wouldn't. "No, I mean she's really sick. The doctors aren't sure if she'll live!"

Jack was silent. No words could form themselves past his mind.

Angela spoke again, "Jack, I'm really scared. I don't have anyone but Sarah. Please come down here, we need you."

"The earliest I can fly down there is noon tomorrow."

"You can't come tonight?"

"Dammit Angela! You can't just ask me to drop everything, I need to pack, I need to prepare for this!"

"She's your daughter!"

"She doesn't know me! I've never been her father!"

"You promise to be here tomorrow?"

"Has she asked to see me?"

"Not really, but she needs to."

"Maybe I'll make things worse."

"Please Jack! Please don't think and just get here!"

"Fine. What hospital is she in?"

"Oakland, room 306."

"Bye." Jack hung up. He took deep breaths and listened closely to them. When he felt a little calmer, he reached for the phone.

Jack stared into the darkness beyond the small passenger window. Tiny bits of cloud were illuminated by the light of the moon and Jack could just barely make them out. There was only one suitcase. He had no idea if there were even complete outfits in there. Drawers were ripped open and clothes carelessly tossed in. Was there even a toothbrush? Probably not.

He felt as if he should cry when he'd reached his Mahattan apartment. But not one tear relieved him. As if to make up for his lack of reaction, Jack panicked and packed as fast as he could. Now in the plane, he figited from agitation. How long would it take to get there? Would he find a hotel? Did he need to buy a toothbrush after all? Did his daughter hate him.

"How long until we get there," he asked the pilot for the fourth time.

"My answer won't change. I can guarantee you we'll be there in the early morning. Why don't you get some rest?"

Jack reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a bottle of pills. One didn't seem like it'd be enough so he choked down two.

He grabbed his wallet. Tucked in a card slot was the only picture he had of his daughter - one Angela sent when Sarah was four. He never thought he'd be meeting her so soon.