Chapter 5

That night, I sat on the beach as the sun set. Our house is one set of sand dunes away from the ocean. I often come out here and think back to the days when McKayla and I would hold one another and watch the world pass by. We have this one spot, where the sand was worn away. Often she sat behind me and I lay back in her arms, feeling safe and warm in her embrace.

I have never been as madly in love with anyone as I was with McKayla, which is strange since I really don't consider myself a lesbian. I am sexually attracted to men; I always have been. Until McKayla came along, I had never been with a woman; heck, I had never even kissed a woman until my twenty-third birthday when I drunkenly stuck my tongue down her throat Still, there is a part of me that believes that I could never love anyone as much as I loved McKayla, save our daughter.

She was the perfect complement to me. When I was with her, I felt like I could never want for anything else. Her touch was reassuring. Her kisses electric. When she smiled at me, my heart melted. She was strong and self-assured. Yet she feared relationships. Because of her disease, she feared emotional intimacy and commitment.

When I was twelve, my mother died in a car accident, and my father died when I was seventeen. Although my uncle took care of my brother, sister and I, a part of me longed for the security and safety of a spouse.

We were both at a point in our lives when we needed each other. I didn't care that she had the same set of chromosomes that I did. She didn't care that I would never be a one night stand. She was beautiful, not only physically, but spiritually and emotionally.

And when she died, a part of me was torn away.

If not for my daughter, I think I may have given up, even though the mere thought of that would have horrified McKayla.

So I cling to the things that remind me of her. I kept the house mostly as we had it before she died. Her car was basically mothballed until Maureen decided she wanted to drive it. I still come out to our spot on the beach and talk her as if she were right next to me, longing to hear her voice once again.

"I did it," I said aloud. "I know you didn't want me to, but I went to visit Maureen's dad. He's a good guy, sweetheart. He's going to love her, not like you and I love her, but because she's a good girl. We did okay."

As always, my only answer was the wind.

"When she asked me to call him, I wished you were still here. You would have known what to do." I began to cry softly. "We knew this day was coming, didn't we? We always said it would be her choice, and I'm okay with that. I just..."

My voice trailed off as I wiped my eyes.

"Mommy?" Maureen won't call me "Mom". That was the name she used for McKayla. Maybe that's why I have a hard time thinking of her as anything other than a cute-as-a-button five year old little girl. I heard her soft footsteps on the walkway that ran from the back porch, across the yard and dunes and let out on to the beach.

"Are you okay?" she sat down next to me. I wiped the rest of my tears away, but there was no way she didn't know I had been crying.

There was the soft clinking of crystal as she pushed a wine glass into my hand, and she poured out a bottle of our favourite white merlot. Yeah, I know she's technically too young for wine, but I raised her to drink responsibly in moderation, and besides, I would be naïve to think that she wasn't drinking at college.