"Who You Are No Matter What"

Annie had spent most of the summer lying awake in her bed at night, waiting for her father to die. And now that he was dead, she still found herself laying awake for most of the night, this time wishing he would come back.

Annie's dog Davey shifted from her spot at the end of the bed as Annie rolled onto her side. The dim nightlight cast shadows on the wall, and Annie stared blankly as the shapes enlarged and then receded, Davey having finally settled down again.

Hardly anyone had come to the funeral – they had very few relatives, her father had lost touch with most of his friends, and she hadn't even told hers – and she didn't cry. Couldn't. There was no point in it. Her father hadn't even wanted her here this summer, not really, not until the end. Go back to your life, he told her. I didn't push you out just so you could come back, he joked.

They put him in the same room as Bobby. That was the one good thing she had done. Dr. Noble hadn't wanted to, told her it was very unorthodox, but in the way she had learned to cultivate with men her entire life, she simply stared him down until he agreed. The nurses thought it was the most wonderful idea. Like a small town parade, they triumphantly rolled her father down the hallway, into the elevator, and then into Bobby's room, gliding her father's bed in as if it were a routine for Stars For Ice. And so, for the last three weeks in August, there Annie stayed – sitting in a chair between the two beds, silent and watchful for which one of them might die first. Because wouldn't it just be the thing, if Bobby did, before Dad. That would just be really great, Annie thought to herself. That would just make all of this just perfect, then.

Annie had started out having a safe, normal life, with a safe, normal family. A mom and a dad who loved each other, and a brother who loved his little sister, which made her love him right back. An unfortunate accident in a canoe, a small tumor nestled somewhere within the left frontal lobe, and a mom who couldn't deal left just Annie. Just Annie, really.

Well, Annie and Bobby. But that was the worst of it. She hadn't had to worry, when her father was still here. He could take care of it, he told her, and so she hadn't had to worry. And what was the answer, she wondered. Should he die now. Could she keep him alive. And which of those did she want the most.

 - New story entitled, "Who You Are No Matter What"