EIGHT NADIA

E IGHT

N ADIA

Nadia woke, startled, heart racing, beads of sweat dripping from her forehead. Her eyes came in and out of focus. Colored shadows danced on the wall and voices spoke softly, their words muddled and unfamiliar. She blinked, and her eyes darted around the room, absorbing the familiarity of her bedroom. Nadia exhaled and rolled onto her back. It was a nightmare. That's all. The sound of crushing metal, the agonizing and scared screams of the injured—she made it all up. She wasn't there. Her girls weren't there. She reached for Rafe.

He's not here.

Where was he?

She sat up quickly, scrambled out of bed, and rushed to the bathroom.

Empty.

His clothes hung in the closet. He had to be in the house.

She opened her bedroom door. More voices. More unfamiliar sounds.

"Rafe?" she called out as she inched her way down the hall toward the noise. "Rafe?"

Nadia crept down the stairs and into the catchall room. Rafe sat at their shared desk with his head bent. "Rafe?"

He looked up with the blackest eyes possible. She took a step back. "Rafe?"

He stood and came toward her. Arms outstretched, waiting for her.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. A voice told her to run, and to run fast. But she couldn't make her legs move.

"Rafe?" she said, her voice quivering. He stopped and turned. The side of his head was caved in, and she could see into the depths of his skull. His neck contorted in angles it shouldn't. Bugs, snakes, and worms crawled out.

Nadia screamed.

"Wake up, Nadia."

She felt pressure on her shoulders and fought whoever tried to hold her down.

"Nadia, wake up!"

Her eyes darted open at the sound of her father's voice. He hovered over her, fear etched across his face. An instant wave of emotion took over, and realization weighed heavily on her as her senses returned. The dream hadn't been a nightmare but her reality. She sobbed as her father pulled her to his chest.

"It's okay. I got you," he said as his hand moved up and down her back. The side of the bed dipped where Rafe should've been, and she smelled the familiar scent of strawberries-and-cream shampoo. Small arms wrapped around her midsection, and her body sighed, almost as if it needed her children.

Nadia let go of her father and brought her babies to her, holding and caressing them as best she could. Gemma was tall for her age, but not Lynnea. Not the baby of the family. She curled into her mother's side, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and wept quietly. Gemma maneuvered her body so she was on the other side of her sister and rested her head on her mom's chest. She, too, cried.

When Nadia woke again, she had no awareness of the time or even the day. For all she knew it had been weeks since her world had been upended. When she glanced at the TV, she was reminded abruptly that days had passed.

Over a sleeping Lynnea, Nadia reached for the remote and shut the television off. She vaguely remembered turning it on hours ago and falling asleep to Rudy , Rafe's favorite movie, with her girls snuggled next to her.

Nadia looked at Lynnea, with her thumb in her mouth. A habit they'd broken when she was three. Nadia left her thumb there and would deal with it later. She turned to Gemma, who stared back at her with the same soulful brown eyes as hers.

"Hi," she said quietly so as to not wake Lynnea.

"Hi," Gemma replied. "I don't want to go to school today." Tears pooled in her eyes.

"You don't have to," Nadia told her. "You can stay home for the rest of the week."

Gemma nodded slightly. Nadia kissed her forehead. If she had her choice, her girls wouldn't ever leave her sight.

"And Lynnea."

Nadia shook her head. "Nope. And me neither." She didn't want to return to work. In her mind, it would be one thing if her husband had passed away, but to be killed while saving another woman during an annual road race all because someone's brakes had failed—someone who shouldn't have been driving down the road to begin with—put Nadia's situation front and center. Everyone knew how Rafe had died. It'd been on the news and continued to air while an investigation took place. The news channels interviewed people who'd been there, reminding Nadia repeatedly that people had witnessed her husband dying.

"Does Daddy get a funeral?" It was after they had returned home from the hospital that Nadia explained to the girls what the doctors were doing to Rafe. Lynnea didn't like it, and Gemma said she was proud of her dad and how he was going to save someone's life. Those words only sparked Lynnea's outburst as she questioned why someone couldn't save her daddy's life. Nadia had the same thoughts.

"Yeah, he does."

"Do I have to go?"

Nadia pondered her question and nodded. "If you don't go, you might regret it later, and it's not something you can change."

"But I don't want to see Daddy in the coffin."

"I understand. You can sit in the pew, next to me. You don't have to see him if you don't want to."

"Okay." Her voice was small, nothing like the outgoing child she was a few days ago. Nadia pictured her and Rafe, dancing in the kitchen, and him telling her to put her feet on top of his. He'd twirled her around like a princess.

"I'm so sorry, Gemma," Nadia found herself saying. "I know I'm hurting, but I can't even imagine how you and Lynnea feel."

"Lynnea's angry. She was throwing stuff in her room."

"That's okay too," Nadia told Gemma. "I'm angry. Sad. Hurt. My heart is broken for you, your sister, Daddy, and me. Daddy didn't want this."

"The person who did this needs to die."

As angry as Nadia was, she didn't want that. Deep down, she knew this was an accident, an avoidable one. The person who hit Rafe would have to live the rest of their life knowing they'd killed someone.

"Then their mommy would be very sad. We don't wish death on anyone, no matter how badly they hurt us."

Gemma's lower lip quivered. "Okay," she said in a broken voice. Nadia pulled Gemma to herself and did her best to cradle her daughter without disturbing Lynnea. Nadia wept with her oldest and wondered how they were going to get through the next stage of their lives.

They lay there, waiting for Lynnea to wake up. Tragedy had struck their family, but Nadia and Gemma both knew waking Lynnea before she was ready was never a good thing. Instead, Nadia turned the television back on, chose a movie on one of the streaming platforms, and hunkered down in bed with Gemma.

Gemma laughed at the funny parts, which made Nadia happy, despite the heaviness she felt weighing on her chest. Sooner than she wanted, she would have to start making plans for Rafe's funeral and figure out how to manage the household on one income. They had life insurance policies for each other, which Nadia never thought either of them would have to use. That paperwork could all go away until tomorrow or the next day. She didn't want to take any time away from her babies.

When Lynnea finally woke, she complained about being hungry. Nadia could've sent her girls downstairs, where her parents would've taken care of them. Had she done that, her mother would've come upstairs and lectured her on how the girls needed their mother.

With a herculean effort, Nadia got out of bed. She started toward her bathroom, saw Rafe's clothes, and immediately turned back into her room. Gemma and Lynnea watched her every move. Nadia would have to eventually walk through the closet to her bathroom—today wasn't that day.

"Come on, let's go downstairs." She didn't have to tell Lynnea twice. Gemma, on the other hand, eyed her mother warily. After she stopped to use the bathroom in the hallway, Nadia stood at the top of the stairs, questioning why she was out of bed. There were so many voices coming from the living room and kitchen. Mixing and mingling with each other. Dishware clanked against counters, chairs scraped against the hardwood floors, and the TV blared with the news.

"Are you staying up there?" Gemma asked from the bottom of the stairs.

Nadia shook her head and slowly made her way down. Gemma gripped her hand and led her mother into the madhouse that was the kitchen.

"Oh, honey. It's good to see you up." Her mother wore an apron Nadia didn't remember owning. Nadia's sister and Rafe's sister sat in the breakfast nook where Nadia and the girls had shared their last meal with Rafe.

"Where's Dad?"

"The men are in the other room, watching the news," Sienna said. "Cleo's in there as well."

"I don't want that on when the girls are in the room," Nadia said to everyone there.

"Why?" Freya asked.

Nadia stared incredulously at her sister-in-law. Freya had to be kidding, right? Nadia looked from Freya to Gemma and Lynnea, and then shook her head.

"I don't feel well. I'm going back upstairs."

"Nadia, honey," her mom started, but Nadia was already headed to the stairs. She felt Gemma staring at her each step she took, but she never turned around. Nadia didn't need to see the disappointment on her daughter's face.

No one prepares you for death. At least an unexpected death. Sure, if your loved one has a terminal illness, you can go to a support group or read a book about how to prepare. But there isn't a manual on how to handle your grief, and the grief of others, when someone unexpectedly passes away.

No one prepares you for life after death. The things someone must do before they can properly grieve. The phone calls, paperwork, meetings—it's a never-ending list of We need this , Give me that —all while you're trying to come to terms with losing your husband, lover, father of your children ... your best friend.

Rafe was gone, and to Nadia nothing would ever be the same. Not the way she slept, showered, dressed, or got ready in the morning. Her once shiny and vibrant hair, the color her husband loved so much, was dull and lifeless. Her once naturally rosy cheeks looked pale.

Nadia stared at herself in the mirror of the guest bathroom. Whatever she had to do today, she could do tomorrow or the next day. What would the morgue do with Rafe's body if she didn't make arrangements right away? Throw him away? The doctors had already cut a massive Y in his torso to remove his heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, and whatever else they wanted. They piecemealed his body parts, spread them across the country to others. People who needed an organ to live, to restart their lives. The one Rafe needed couldn't exist without its natural host.

She gripped the edge of the counter and swayed. She wasn't ready and probably never would be. What was the rush in burying her husband? There wasn't one. At least not for her. Nadia could go on and pretend Rafe was away on a business trip or gone for the weekend with his friends. The weekend would just never end, and she'd be okay with that.