Author's Note: Kaeli is pronounced Kay-Lee

“The best things in life, aren’t things”- Art Buchwald

Between the Moments

I feel the impact as I knock my daughter to the ground, but it means nothing. My system is flooded with adrenaline and at this moment I cannot distinguish one sensation from another. All that matters is that I have done my duty as a father, that my daughter is safe.

I chance a moment, allowing myself to look down at the fragile form beneath my body. She seems safe enough. Assured that my only daughter is safe I roll off of her, attempting to regain my breath.

I can feel the pain in my chest as it comes sharply, and without rhythm.

After a moment I find that my breath is not so quick to even out or return to my lungs, so I stand despite the unsteady feeling in my legs. It is an uneasy process, but I must stand, to see if there is anything else for which I might be of assistance.

It takes a moment or two longer than I would have preferred but I am finally able to accomplish my goal, only to be met with a horrified scream that pierces my ears. It is Kaeli’s voice; I would recognize it anywhere. I turn to see why she has cried out, too quickly it seems as my legs give out and I topple to the ground.

As my knees collapse beneath me the sky roars its anger and opens up. The first sheet of rain comes like a sledgehammer and were I not already on the ground, I believe I might very well have been on my way down anyway. The entire football stadium is drenched within moments and by the time my face meets the grass, so am I.

How did it end up like this?

The words trickle, unbidden, through my dreary mind as I lie crumpled in the sea of soaked grass blades. Only, it isn’t just the torrents of rain that cover the vast field of meticulously kept grass, causing them to cling with ungodly persistence to my sticky face and disheveled clothes, but blood as well.

I stare at it for a long moment, the screaming children and terrified parents no longer of any consequence to me. I am startled, and more than a bit disconcerted, to find the bright red color staining the pool of water on the ground around me. No, it is not just on the ground but also... I lift a leaden hand in front of my eyes. There is blood on these fingers as well. I remember the impact, moments before and a question comes to the forefront of my mind.

Is it...?

I try to finish the thought, but I cannot. There is a dull thunder now in the back of my head and it seems the paltry amount of strength required to bring a focused thought to bear through the din is something I cannot muster.

I can taste copper in my mouth. No, not copper. This is sweeter than the bitter flavor of the bronze metal. This has a more... there is less tang to the flavor. Less tang and with less bite but still, not unpleasant I suppose, this iron flavoring on my tongue.

Blood...?

It must be blood I taste, and the suspicion is confirmed as it dribbles from my mouth and begins to form a watery pool in the grass before my face, joining with the already crimson grass surrounding me to create a deadly mural. Well then, if I have blood in my mouth then there is internal bleeding and at least one ruptured lung. The lungs fill with blood and then...

That would explain my heavy breathing, but I wonder what could have caused the injury... Certainly not my fall to the ground, I’ve experience such falls before, worse even. Besides, that would not result in a punctured lung, which would in turn explain the shortness of breath I experience. Even this pain, it is not so great compared to when I broke my arm a few years back.

So then why does this one feel, different somehow? It’s almost as if I haven’t grasped the entire situation. Not understood, to some extent, how bad things have gotten in the past five minutes since the shooting.

“Mama!!” the tormented cry seems so close now, as if Kaeli were next to me as she screams for her mother.

Has something happened to Bailey?

My own wound, whatever the cause, has now become inconsequential as I worry about my wife. I have to see for myself, so I push aside the shaking hands the hold tremulously onto my chest.

Or at least I attempt to.

Despite my best efforts the tiny fingers continue grip tightly to my well-worn brown shirt. I can feel them trace the seams, as if they know them well. Perhaps then it is Kaeli who holds on so dearly. It has been many years since she last lay curled in my lap, one thumb in her mouth the other feeling the soft fabric of my favorite shirt but only her fingers know this shirt so well. It is one of the reasons I wore it to her eighth grade graduation.

I open my tired eyes to look at her. There are tears in her red eyes, I think. The rain makes it hard to tell but, as she kneels in the pool of blood and grass blades that surrounds me, no thought to the beautiful dress she had just picked out with her mother this past Thursday, I feel a few warms droplets along with the myriad of cool ones.

I feel as low at this moment as I have ever felt, to make my daughter cry on a day she should be enjoying. How typical of me. It’s a shame really, it had been such a pleasurable evening, or pleasant at the very least. To have ended it like this... how rather miserable of me.

“Guahh... ahewhh...!!” the blood comes up without warning, erupting violently from my torn body, but Kaeli does not move. There is a determined look on her face, as if to say she is there for me. Kaeli has always been a brave child and, quite suddenly, I am extremely proud to be her father.

“Dave...? Oh... no...!” I hear Her voice this time, as deft hands lift my head onto someone’s lap. They are Hers, most likely. Only Bailey would dare something like that, and know She could get away with it in the end, to baby me in such a fashion and not have it seem odd.

Only... She could...

Only She... ever would...

Her wet dress is a pleasant relief to my burning forehead and I try to tell my beloved how much it means to me that She is here, safe and sound. As I open my mouth to speak, She shakes Her head and puts a finger to my lips. In Her own way She is telling me there will be time for talk later. That is a promise.

My vision has blurred a bit, but I can still see Her smile however sad it is, so I smile back.

She is always telling me to smile more, and I always reply that there will be another time to smile, a time when it matters.

Now it matters.

The crowd that has gathered around us, they are whispering... no, not whispering but I cannot hear them, and can barely see them, as they gesture excitedly to one another, occasionally one hand points to me. They seem to be concerned about something.

Am I...? Is this what...? How does...?

So many questions jostle to be at the forefront of my jumbled thoughts, but none come clearly formed and all soon fade away, unfinished, as an angels voice enters my consciousness.

“Dave...!?!”

Despite my best efforts, I can barely hear Her tormented words through the now dull throbbing in the back of my head. She is concerned about something, and I want to comfort Her.

I want to be able to tell Her that everything will be all right...

I desire the chance to see Kaeli graduate from High School, and to then be there at her commencement...

I want to see Leo again as we remember the old days at camp...

I yearn to hold Her supple form against mine again as we make love into the morning hours...

I want to give Kaeli away at her wedding as a proud father...

But most of all, out of so many things... Above all else, I wish...

My now sightless eyes fill with tears and I blink in an attempt to keep them in check.

I... wish...

I wish to have the opportunity, once more, to smile into Her gentle blue-green eyes.

As these thoughts filter through my consciousness I can feel warm droplets falling onto my face. They dash my face and eyes, causing the tenuous damn I hold to burst. There are no sounds of sorrow, no bitter sobs or broken hiccups, only the gentle spattering of salty tears intermixed with the cool rain on my face.

Her tears... and mine.

I cannot see by this point but it must be She. I have no proof, yet I know, with every fiber in my being that these are Bailey’s tears that race down my cheeks. For whatever reason, I have always known when She is near, and this time is no exception.

Slowly, and more than a bit unsteadily, I reach up my left arm and use all of my remaining strength to wipe away the tears in Her eyes. She is an angel to me, and angels should not have to cry in sadness, only joy.

Soon however, what slight vigor imbued my arm to perform its task has faded and it falls lifeless by my side.

It is only then, in the farthest reaches of my consciousness I realize, the rain... has stopped? I barely notice that the formerly endless spray has ceased on my face. Yes, it has ended for the moment, but somehow there is shadow as well, in this now dark world of mine. The shadow colors everything the deepest black, even the blaring sirens of what must be the ambulance. Everything it approaches is consumed and at this moment, or any other, I am no different.

So then... this is...