**EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS 18 OR OLDER**
Elaine's been dead for five years and at no point has it gotten easier. I've read countless books, seen therapists, and attended grieving groups. It never gets better. I still wake up every morning expecting to roll over and feel her in my arms. We were high school sweethearts. I knew when I met her in freshman year that I would spend the right of my life with her, or so I thought.
Even through all this pain, I wouldn't trade a single day I spent with her to make it go away. I married my sweet girl when we were both 18. I didn't even have a ring yet. I wore the same suit I wore to prom and she wore her mother's wedding dress. I still remember seeing her pale skin, dark eyeliner, and wavy curls she took off the veil. She was absolutely gorgeous. I enjoyed growing up with her and loving her through all the various stages of life we experienced together. I loved her when we were dumb kids. I loved her when she had our daughter. I loved her when she felt a strange lump in her breast. I loved her when the doctors ran out of options.
The best gift she ever gave me was our daughter. We did our best raising Cameron but I believe that she is just naturally good. We never pushed her to get good grades, she did it by herself. She volunteered and was part of many clubs during high school. She received a full-ride scholarship to her dream school. She's beautiful like her mother but also in her own unique way. Her hair is light brown and straight. Her mother was gifted with large breasts. Those genetics went straight to her ass instead. Her face resembles Elaine so much though. I sometimes look into her eyes and start to cry.
Cameron is thirty-years-old now. Happily married with a nice big house. Her husband Stanley is a nice enough guy. I don't think anyone is good enough for my daughter but I trust Cameron's opinion on the matter. She wouldn't be with a man if he wasn't great. She's been having a rough time lately. A familiar struggle I know all too well. He was diagnosed with cancer a year ago. Going through it myself was hard but seeing my own daughter go through it hurts more. It's as if I am living it all over again. I try to be there for her as much as I can. He's not doing well and has been in the hospital for almost three months.
Every time I visit Cameron is sitting by his bedside holding her lover's weak hand. He used to have a full head of hair but now his head is full of patchy limp strands. Suddenly my phone rings. My daughter's contact picture fills the screen.
"Hey, Cam!" I say in an overly positive voice.
"Dad..." She says in a dark tone and pauses. "Can I...Can I come over?"
"You're welcome here anytime, sweetheart!"
I'm talking as cheerfully as I can. I can hear the despair and hopelessness through the phone. Inside I want to cry right along with her but I have to be the strong one now. When Elaine was really sick. My daughter was there for me and always kept my mood up. Even though her mom was dying she only thought about my feelings.
"Can I stay for a while?" Cameron asks softly.
"How long?" I inquire.
"I don't know. I just can't spend another night alone in this big house we bought together. I can't do it, Dad, I can't."
"Okay, okay. You can stay as long as you want. I just wanted to know. I'm sorry if I upset you, Cam."
"No, Dad, I'm sorry. I know what you meant. I already have some things packed so I'll be there soon, okay?"
While she was growing up I'd always make a homemade pizza for dinner every Friday. She looked forward to it every week. It's nothing special. Just some flour, yeast, and homemade tomato sauce. I planned on making one tomorrow so I already have the dough ready but I'll make one now just to surprise her.
I always put more care into making these when I know she will eat them. I make sure there is just enough sauce and that the cheese along with it is in a perfect circle. I lay the toppings down evenly spaced apart. She just likes pepperoni and onion. If I were making this just for me I would just plop everything on there as fast as possible.
The doorbell rings and my RING app notification goes off. I check my phone and see live footage of my daughter standing there. Her eyes are puffy and her shoulders are hunched over. Two large suitcases are on either side of her and her red purse is hanging over her left shoulder. I rush to the door and let her in. Cameron smiles at me and I pull her in for a long warm hug.
"I'll get those bags upstairs," I say while lifting both of her suitcases.
"Is that pizza I smell?" My daughter says sniffing the air and smiling.
"You know it."
Cameron excitedly scurries off towards the kitchen while I carry her bags up to the guest room.
She looked so sad on camera. Seeing her smile and being excited over something made my whole week. I set down the suitcases in the guest bedroom. The guest bedroom is just Cameron's childhood room that we turned into a guest bedroom. I still think of it as her room. The walls aren't full of posters anymore and it doesn't smell like lotions and perfume. But It feels like her room to me.
I head to the kitchen to see Cameron at the table with four slices of pizza in front of her. She helped herself to a cold beer from my fridge as well. I fill my own plate with pizza, grab a beer, and sit down across from her at the table. We don't talk about anything. We've always been close but we have the kind of relationship where we don't need to talk all the time. Just being in each other's presence is enough. She sips from her beer and takes a large bite of pizza.
Cameron has never felt the need to be too polite around me. With anyone else, she eats neatly and takes small bites. But when she is with me there is tomato sauce all over her cheek. We finish eating and head outside to the patio. I set up the fire pit and we relax on adjacent chairs.
"So how are things?" I ask and take another sip of beer.
"Not good," She answers dully.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No."
We remain in comfortable silence together for a while. The only things we hear are animals and the crackling of the fire. My daughter arrived in her sleeping clothes which are quite revealing. They do a good job of covering but her shirt is so sheer and white. The flame is lighting it up so well that her breasts are completely visible to me. Her nipples are poking and I see her flat stomach and belly button. She has on pajama pants with a bunch of Millennium Falcons on them. They are tight and even though she is sitting down. Her ass and hips are still impressive. I've never been attracted to my daughter but as a man, I won't deny a grown woman's beauty.
I haven't been with anyone in quite some time. The only woman I've ever been with was my now deceased wife. For the last couple of years of her life, she was too weak for sex. I was too distraught for sex but that's how long it's been. Probably around seven years since I've felt the touch of a woman. Seeing my daughter's face in the fire reminds me so much of Elaine sitting in that very seat. She'd sip on a beer and blow me a kiss.
"Dad..." Cameron says quietly. "How...How did you do it?"
"How did I do what?" I ask
"When Mom was sick. You handled this way better than I am."
"Everything you're feeling. That crushing weight. I felt it all too. I just didn't let you see it."
My daughter sets her finished bottle down on the patio and looks me right in the eyes. Those eyes could make me cry. I see so much of my wife in her and it hurts. Her mannerisms, vocal inflections, and of course her face. You never realize how alike someone is until the other person is gone forever.
