Session 𝓔ighty-Nine

Session 89:
"The BlowPops”

All I could see was this whiteness around me.

It felt blurry.

I couldn’t see my own hands.

Then—

It faded.

And there he was.

His familiar dark curly hair and dark eyes, the wrinkles around his eyes just as prominent as I remembered.

His face had more color than it did those last few weeks of chemo.

He looked…

Happy.

 “Dad?” I whispered, confusion coating my words.

Especially when I glanced around, noticing the whiteness had faded.

There was the familiar tan driveway underneath me—our house with the wrap-around porch that I loved just a few feet away.

My old pink cheetah print bike was laid out beside me, and my left knee burned.

“Sunny,” he called out as he approached me, and the familiarity of his deep voice alone was enough to make my eyes sting with tears. “It’s okay, we’ll patch this right on up.”

I shook my head with tears, then I realized he was talking about my knee that I skinned.

I remembered this day exactly.

It was late September, the sky was gloomy, and the air felt sticky—my dad dragged me away from my Nintendo DS to teach me to ride a bike.

“I’ve really missed you,” I whispered, more tears burning in my eyes.

My vision was blurred, unable to see his familiar face.

“I’ve been here the whole time, sunny,” he smiled, pointing over to the three-car garage, “I stood right there when you rode off.”

I sniffled as he reached up to gently wipe under my eyes.

“We’ll try again. We always do,” he assured me, making more tears burn in my eyes.

“What if I want to try again forever?” I asked in a broken whisper, knowing this wouldn’t last.

Knowing that he’s dead.

None of this is real.

“We can’t try again forever, silly,” he said, his smile growing wider and flashing his white teeth, “But we can try until you get it—then guess what?”

“What?” I asked as he tucked some of the curls away from my face.

“Then we can ride our bikes together. As many times as you like,” he told me, making me draw in a deep breath.

“Forever?” I clarified, even if I knew it wasn’t possible.

That all of this would fade.

“You won’t leave me?” I added, tears weighing down my eyes.

My dad tilted his head, a frown growing on his lips. “Never,” he said, his deep voice lowered between us. “I’ll always be with you—even when you move far-far away and start your own life.”

I never did move that far.

But he did.

“I don’t want to be far away from you,” I said, making my dad’s frown grow.

Then he instinctively pulled me into the warmest hug, holding me tight against his chest.

I could smell his familiar cologne that he always wore.

“I don’t want to be far away from you either, sunny,” he whispered, holding his hand firm against the back of my head. “But that’s how life goes. I always want you to experience everything you can.”

I sniffled, unable to string words together.

It felt like there was a lump in my throat.

“Mom is going to be upset about your knee,” my dad suddenly said, squeezing me tighter in the hug. “She’s been planning our family portraits for weeks.”

“Libby! Ned!”

I suddenly pulled back, glancing over to the front porch lined with the white rocking chairs my mother had hand-picked.

She stood on the porch in her usual work clothes, except there was this glow to her.

A smile that struck out on her lips.

Her blouse was untucked, wearing dress pants as she stood barefoot by the front door.

“Dinner’s ready,” she called out, motioning us inside.

My dad glanced at me with the look he made whenever we were about to be in trouble.

It used to happen often.

My mother was more uptight, but my dad…

He balanced her out.

“We’ll tell her about your knee after I get you cleaned up,” he told me, standing from the pavement before offering me his hands.

I didn’t hesitate to put mine in his, hopping up from the sidewalk.

Then I skipped along by his side with a smile, trying my best to enjoy this moment, even if I knew it wasn’t real.

I inhaled deeply as we walked past the tall double doors into the house, the smell of spaghetti and the familiar air freshener my mother used coating the air.

My dad held his finger to his lips, signaling me to keep quiet as we walked up the stairs.

He led me past the familiar long hallway that overlooked the living room, taking me into their bedroom.

It looked brighter than I recalled.

Especially compared to when he was in hospice.

The bathroom sink wasn’t lined with pill bottles that my mother had to keep up with—it was neatly organized just as it was before.

My dad helped me up onto the sink, allowing my legs to dangle as he grabbed the large first aid kit.

Then he got to work on cleaning my knee and adding ointment.

He carefully applied the large band-aid over my skin, ensuring it felt comfortable for me before pulling away.  

I glanced around a little once he helped me down, eyeing the soaker tub and the glass shower beside it.

It was something so small, but familiar to me.

Being here felt like a warm hug.

Especially running down the familiar staircase, and hearing my mother telling me to slow down while my dad laughed.

Once he was gone, only the nanny would tell me to slow down.

My mother was always at the office.

“Tell me when to stop,” my dad said as he grated the parmesan over my bowl of spaghetti.

“Oh god,” my mother said, shaking her head with a smile. “She’ll want the whole block of cheese, Ned.”

“As long as she’s full and happy,” was all he said as I watched the cheese trickle down onto the pasta.

I purposely looked at my mother with a smile, counting the seconds before finally telling him to stop.

There was a layer of cheese over my spaghetti—so large that you couldn’t see the actual pasta.

But I didn’t care.

I happily grabbed my fork and began eating my mother’s spaghetti, which tasted exactly as I recalled it.

I hadn’t eaten it in years.

She never cooked after he passed away.

“How did bike lessons go, Libby?” my mother asked me, glancing away from her bowl of spaghetti.

“Great,” I murmured, glancing over to my dad with a knowing smile that he reciprocated.

It made my mother tilt her head, glancing between us.

“What did you guys do?” she asked, setting her fork down.

My dad pursed his lips together, “We had a small accident.”

“Define small,” my mother said, making my dad’s smile grow wider.

“Libby’s knee got a little scraped. She’s completely okay, nothing major,” he briefly explained, but I swear my mother’s eyes grew as wide as saucers.

“But the portraits—”

“Will look real, Mar,” he emphasized. “We’re real people. That’s okay.”

I drew in a deep breath at his familiar words.

He would always tell her that.

We’re real people.

That’s okay.

And somehow—

It always brought her back down.

“You’re right,” my mother sighed, nodding a few times. “It’s probably better for our image, right?”

“One hundred percent,” my dad didn’t hesitate to say. “They’ll love you even more, Governor Fierro.”  

My mother chuckled as she picked her fork back up, “I’m sure your next bike lesson will go better,” she said, glancing at me. “You always excel at anything you put your mind to.”

Her words made my smile grow softer, entirely unaccustomed to her praising me.

Much less, even acknowledging me.

“She does,” my dad agreed. “I’m sure she’ll have it down by the end of the week.”

“I can’t believe we’re already taking off those training wheels,” My mother said, shaking her head as she chewed some more. “Our baby is growing up fast.”

I jokingly rolled my eyes when she patted my head like she always would, “Mom,” I whispered, lightly nudging her hand away.

My mother gently squeezed my cheek instead, her soft brown eyes trailing my face. “What do you say we watch a movie tonight, sweetheart?”

I nodded as she trailed her fingertips down the side of my face, lightly tapping my chin like she used to do.

At least years ago, not anymore.

“We’ll do popcorn and candy,” my dad determined, making my mom shake her head with an amused smile.

“Of course, you had to throw candy in there,” she said, focusing back on her bowl of spaghetti.

It was nice.

Even sitting at this dining room table, given that we never had dinner together once he was gone.

My mother never made it home for dinner after that.

Using the living room with them felt different, too—I had always binge-watched movies all alone during the first summers of high school.

My mother pulled me close on the couch like she always used to, her familiar Chanel perfume gathered around me as we laid together on the sectional.

She clicked through the movie options on the flatscreen, waiting for my dad to come back with the popcorn and candy.

“I got Reese’s for Mar,” my dad said as he walked into the living room, handing the candy over to her as he stood by us, “Then Skittles for sunny.”

I smiled happily as I took the candy from his hands.

“And a Payday for dad,” he added, also holding up a bag of BlowPops. “I also found these.”

I froze at the sight of the lollipops, feeling something trying to press itself to the front of my head.

Almost like I was trying to remember something—like it was on the tip of my tongue.

But I just couldn’t get there.

I furrowed my brows when my dad grabbed a familiar cherry Blowpop from the bag.

Monroe.

Monroe.

“Who’s Monroe?” My dad curiously asked as he sat down beside us, kicking his feet up with ours. “A friend at school?”

“Uh,” I breathed out with furrowed brows.

“Is she new? I know everyone in your class registry,” my mother said as she clicked on one of the old Disney movies that we always liked to watch.

I blinked a few times as I glanced between them, wondering how to explain who Monroe was.

How she’s my girlfriend—or was even my therapist.

I started freaking out when everything began blurring around me, the familiar whiteness gathering in.

It made me frantically reach out for something—anything.

I didn’t want to leave.

I wasn’t ready to leave.

My head pounded the next time my eyes fluttered open—so much so that it made me groan, squeezing my eyes tightly shut again.

Then I felt a soft squeeze around my hand and a featherlight caress against my cheekbone.

I furrowed my brows when I opened my eyes again, recognizing her familiar face immediately.

“Ro,” I whispered, my voice so raspy that it sounded unrecognizable.

My throat also felt really dry.

Even talking made me cough a little.

“My sweet girl,” she said, her voice softened and her light caress pausing against my cheekbone. “You drank a lot last night.”

I shook my head, realizing I was back in reality.

I was far away from him and the version of my mother that actually loved me.

“I don’t want to be here,” I whispered, glancing around the unfamiliar room. “Where am I?”

The fluorescent lights above were bright, but the room was decorated really nicely.

The floors were marble, and there were even couches off to the side of the bed I sat in.

“A private practice,” Monroe said, grabbing the glass of water from the nightstand. “I didn’t want to risk taking you home without letting a doctor check on you.”

“I just drank too much. I’m totally fine,” I assured her as she held the straw to my lips, allowing me to take a few large sips of water.

“You could’ve had alcohol poisoning, Liberty,” she pointed out, her tone as serious as ever. “The doctor thinks you ingested something stronger.”

I furrowed my brows as she lowered the cup from my lips, “What do you mean stronger? I did have Everclear—”

“Drugs,” Monroe cut me short, her familiar blue eyes trailing my face. “She thinks you could’ve been drugged. We’re waiting for the tests to come back.”

I felt even more confused.

“No, that’s not possible,” I whispered. “I knew what I was drinking.”

“You were at a frat party, Liberty,” she emphasized, shaking her head a few times. “Clearly, you didn’t know enough.”

I blinked a few times, realizing she made a good point.

I guess I wasn’t that sure.

I don’t even remember a lot.

Just karaoke.

I think there was more alcohol, too, after that maybe.

I don’t even remember.

“You’re right,” I suddenly said, furrowing my brows deeper. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Monroe sighed softly, setting the cup down on the nightstand. “I’m sorry, darling. You just woke up, and I’m throwing this all at you.”

“No, but you’re right. I should’ve been more responsible,” I determined, making my girlfriend shake her head.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault,” she said, gently cupping my face in her warm hands. “I was just…” she trailed off, tilting her head as she openly eyed my face. “I was really worried about you.”

My face softened at her words, how soft her voice was.

“I’m okay now, baby,” I whispered, feeling even worse from the look on her face.

Her eyes looked heavier, and her lips were pursed tightly together like she was trying to keep it all together.

I lifted my hands the moment she leaned her face down to my chest, hugging herself to my body.

I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her, holding her as close as possible.

“I couldn’t help you that well. I wasn’t sure what to do, or what you had taken,” Monroe said, her voice lowered between us. “I really wanted to help, Liberty, but I had nothing.”

I let out a deep sigh, realizing she must’ve felt so powerless.

Possibly out of control.

One of the worst feelings she can experience.

“And I’m sorry about the Kincaid situation. You shouldn’t have to ask specific questions,” she rushed out, pressing her cheek further against my chest. “I was conditioned to be like this, Liberty, but I want to do better for you. You deserve the full truth always, darling.”

I ran my hands up her back, caressing her covered skin. “I get you, Ro,” I whispered softly. “I understand that not everything will be easy for you, especially after how you grew up. I just want you to try. That’s all.”

“I’ll always try for you, Liberty,” she didn’t hesitate to say, making me smile softly. “I never liked referring to her as my half-sister. Perhaps it could’ve been easier if it wasn’t as strained as it was.”

I hummed softly, “I know,” I assured her. “We’re going to work on it.”

Monroe sighed softly, nodding against my chest.

“I’m also sorry for uh,” I paused, recalling all the details of last night. “The Kaia thing. I shouldn’t have approached her or even stayed after Zi and Sarai left.”

“I’m not upset,” Monroe said, making me furrow my brows.

Then I leaned back from her, trying to get a better view of her face. “Did you…”

Monroe’s lips twitched up slightly, “No,” she said, knowing exactly what I was trying to say.

Did you kill her?

“I’m simply happy you’re okay,” my girlfriend whispered in the cutest way. “Nothing else matters to me right now.”

“Nothing else matters to me either, baby,” I whispered back, squeezing her against my body, “You mean so much to me, Ro.”

Monroe’s smile softened, her blue eyes trailing my face that was centimeters away from hers.

“You mean everything to me. Always,” she said, her words warm with so much genuineness.

“I really did miss Kaia as a friend. That’s why I went up to her,” I explained, wanting her to know more behind my actions. “I know you didn’t like her, and I still talked to her—”

“You were friends for years, Liberty,” Monroe gently cut me short. “I understand. I assure you.”

I furrowed my brows. “Yeah?” I whispered in confusion.

Monroe nodded. “Yes,” she emphasized, “I still believe it’s not productive when you two are together.”

I pursed my lips, “Yeah, I know,” I whispered, knowing we don’t bring out the best in each other. “I think it might be time to let it go.”

It was hard to admit, but so much time has passed.

I messed up, and so did Kaia, but I can fully say that this won’t work anymore.

Whether Monroe is here or not, this is about us and who we are when we’re together compared to when we’re apart.

“Just don’t do anything,” I suddenly added, and I knew she was aware of what I meant. “I don’t want her disappearing.”

“So long as she behaves herself,” Monroe murmured, gently kissing the edge of my jawline.

I smiled softly at her words, feeling relieved that she was even agreeing to leave the situation alone.

It was a win, not just for me, but for us.

Now we can just move on from all of this.

“What happened after I passed out?” I curiously asked.

“I picked you up and left,” Monroe explained, “I didn’t want her coming along. Much less be near you.”

I hummed, eyeing her beautiful face.

I bet Kaia’s texted me a few times.

Probably Zion and Sarai, too.

This is definitely a big mess, but being here with Monroe makes it all so much better.

I let out a deep sigh, glancing away from my girlfriend.  

I couldn’t fully be happy when there was this heaviness weighing down my chest.

This always happened when I thought of him.

“What is it, darling?” Monroe softly whispered, her blue eyes burning into the side of my face.

I shook my head slightly, not wanting to talk about it.

But I also wanted her to know him, even if he couldn’t be here.

“My dad,” I tried my best to say, but my voice sounded weaker than I wanted. “I dreamt about him.”

Monroe leaned up from my body fully, giving me her attention entirely.

“Good dream or bad dream?” she asked as she reached up to my face, gently caressing her fingertips along my cheekbone.

“Good,” I whispered, drawing in the deepest breath. “I really miss him. I miss her too.”

“Her?” Monroe softly asked as I met her stare again.

“My mother,” I admitted, even if I hated it. I hated wanting something that I would never get again. “She was different when he was here. I really miss having parents.”

Monroe frowned when tears grew in my eyes, but I guess my words hit me harder than I realized.

It genuinely feels like I don’t have parents anymore.

There will always be this piece missing now that he’s gone.

“I’m sorry, darling,” my girlfriend whispered, cupping my face in her hands. “You deserve better.”

I shook my head, “You deserve better, too—we both deserve better.”

Monroe pursed her lips into a soft smile, “We do,” she agreed, her blue eyes trailing my face for a moment.

A really long moment.

I could tell there was something on her mind.

“Are you okay?” I asked, wondering what was going on inside her head.

Monroe nodded.

Then she shook her head, letting out a deep sigh.

“I didn’t want to tell you for a few more hours,” she said, making me grow more confused.

“Tell me what?” I asked, realizing she didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to tell me.

That means it must be bad, right?

“Your mother knows you had to be admitted. She’s your highest emergency contact,” Monroe briefly explained, and I swear my stomach dropped faster than I could process. “She’s coming to Seattle, Liberty.”