Milo quickly wiped his tears away, getting his emotional breakdown under control. Raine took the permission slip and money out to Alice, and Don returned to his room to finish getting ready, giving Milo a few minutes to breathe. He stood over the sink that was piled with dirty dishes. The faucet dripped every few seconds, still waiting to be fixed.

Raine was right; he would never be alone as long as he had them.

But, they still didn’t fully understand. He’d messed up this morning not remembering the field trip, for not being better prepared. It was a small thing this time, but if Milo ever really messed up, such as losing a job, he would be the reason his family fell apart.

He had to do better.

Maybe if he hadn’t distracted himself by going out last night…

Raine and Alice walked into the kitchen. “I’m going to get going. I’ll see you guys later,” Raine said, grabbing their phone from the table. Raine’s high school was separate from Alice’s middle school and was within walking distance.

“Bye,” said Alice, reaching for a plastic cup out of the cabinet.

Milo waved, giving Raine a grateful smile as they left. Alice filled her cup from the faucet.

“Did you brush your teeth?” Milo asked. His coffee had cooled, and he dumped it down the sink.

“Yep,” Alice said, grinning wide to prove it. She sat down at the table with her water.

Milo freshened up his mug, then joined his little sister. “So the science museum. Are you excited?”

“Mrs. Jenkins says there’s a whole submarine there! —A real one from World War II,” Alice said with all the enthusiasm in the world.

Milo listened, sipping his coffee as Alice went on and on. Donovan came back to get his lunch, say goodbye, and leave for his work—a late-season roofing job. Milo hoped it wouldn’t be too cold, but Don looked prepared.

Then Milo and Alice finished gathering the things they needed, the permission slip and money secured in Alice’s backpack, and Raine’s drawing for Mom in Milo’s. He locked up and accompanied Alice out of their apartment building.

The bus stop was just on the corner, with several kids already standing there, some getting their energy out before school—at least, Milo hoped they were for the teachers’ sake. Alice ran up to one of her friends, and they both began chatting about the field trip.

Every day, Milo stayed with Alice until the bus came. He usually stood off to the side so he wouldn’t seem like a helicopter brother, hovering and overbearing. When the bus rounded the corner, Milo waved and shouted for her to have fun. Alice waved and smiled back as she climbed into the bus. She didn’t seem to mind his hovering.

With everyone having gone their respective ways, Milo headed for the metro station. The difference between last night and this morning was a train packed with rushing commuters, some holding briefcases or over-priced cups of coffee, others looking as tired and worn as Milo, but each with their own world of problems and cares, reminding Milo that he didn’t have it the worst. Raine’s words echoed in his head. As long as he kept them together, no one would be alone.

It took about twenty minutes to get to the long-term care facility. Located on a low-traffic street, the gray building looked a lot like a hospital, and with the level of care it provided its residents, it pretty much was. Milo’s mom had been living here for over two years now, since the accident that changed their lives.

It happened in the summer, a time when Milo didn’t truly know the meaning of worries and stress. When his upcoming transfer to a four-year university out of state was the most significant thing on his mind. That night, Christopher and Shannon Mitchell went out together. Dad had gotten them tickets to the theater. He had hated musicals, but he’d loved Mom.

Milo liked to imagine they had a perfect night. Dinner at a fancy downtown restaurant then getting lost in the magic of theater. A photo recovered from Mom’s phone showed a selfie of them. It was pre-show, with the lights highlighting the theater’s grandeur. The curtain was still down, and people were shuffling to their seats in the background. Mom had the biggest smile on her face. Dad looked down at her with the kind of love born from many steadfast years together.

The car accident happened on their way home. Dad died after a few days in the intensive care unit. Mom sustained a serious head injury that left her with irreversible brain damage. She could not live without round-the-clock care.

The automatic doors opened for Milo, and the receptionist smiled warmly at him. She greeted him by name as he signed in and got his visitor’s badge. Then he walked the familiar way through the large, maze-like facility. Milo was grateful they qualified for financial aid to cover the cost. A place like this offered the best care, and the weekly price to stay reflected it.

When he reached Mom’s ward, Milo was waved over to the nurse’s station.

“How is she today?” Milo asked.

Amy was one of the nurses who looked after Mom. She wore a slight frown, and Milo’s heart sank. “She had another seizure last night. But she is stable this morning and resting.”

Amy didn’t need to add that the seizures were becoming more frequent, and Mom was having a harder time recovering from them. It didn’t need to be said that the facility was considering a move to hospice. Milo had been contacted about that possibility a week ago.

“Thank you, Amy. I’ll go see her now,” Milo said.

She nodded sympathetically and pushed the button to open the wide door for Milo to walk through. The walls were all sterile white, and Milo’s tennis shoes occasionally squeaked over the polished linoleum. He got to the door and stood there for a moment, his hand tight on the handle.

When he got sufficient air in his lungs, he opened the door and stepped inside. Mom was asleep in the hospital bed. Wires and tubes connected her to various equipment, and Milo noted that there were more than last time. In harsh contrast to that last picture of her and Dad, Mom looked like she was wasting away. And it hurt so much to see.

Milo understood why Raine didn’t want to come.

The room wasn’t as stark and bare as the hallway. Milo and his siblings had tried their best to make the space homey and comfortable. Alice would switch out stuffed animals every time she came, and older artwork of Raine’s was hanging up on the walls. It had been a while since they made something for Mom. Milo hoped it meant Raine would visit soon. Because there wasn’t a lot of time left.

He set his backpack on one of the visitor’s chairs and pulled out the drawing. “Raine made this for you,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb her rest, but he hoped in some way his voice might reach a lost part of her, and offer comfort.

The accident had robbed her of memories, and she did not recognize any of them.

Placing the drawing on the little table next to her bed, Milo continued speaking. “Sunflowers—your favorite. We had a little yard behind the house. There wasn’t much grass, but Dad planted a row of sunflowers along the back fence. At the end of summer, they bloomed so huge. They were even taller than us,” Milo recalled, his voice faltering, but he kept on. “Even though the days were the hottest, you would sit out there to read books and look at them. I think Raine captured it all perfectly.”

On thick sketch paper, Raine had drawn the row of sunflowers, vibrant in colored pencil. In the foreground, Mom sat in her white whicker chair, the breeze teasing her long brown hair, and though she was facing away in the drawing, Milo knew she was smiling. The lines around her eyes would crinkle as her whole being radiated joy. Once, she had been more like the sunshine than the flowers she loved.

They’d had to move out of that house, leaving the little row of sunflowers behind.

Dad had a small life insurance policy through his work. It covered the funeral costs and some of the medical bills. Mom and Dad also had a will, but it hadn’t been updated in several years. Grandma Violet, Dad’s mom, was supposed to be given custody of the kids. But she lived in a different city hours away and had moved into assisted living just before the accident. She couldn’t care for them.

The only other options for family were Aunt Gina—Mom’s sister—or Milo and Donovan. Aunt Gina hadn’t been on good terms with Mom, and she showed no interest in wanting custody. So Milo was granted guardianship of Raine and Alice, uncontested.

No matter how difficult it was, no matter how much he had to work, he wouldn’t give up on keeping them together.

Milo sat in a chair beside Mom’s bed. He wanted to take her hand and hold it tight, letting her know that he was there. But if she woke up, it would only confuse and distress her. She was right there before him, but Milo could never reach for her.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll take care of them. I love you.”

He said those words every visit, sometimes to himself if she was awake, sometimes aloud if she wasn’t. And he meant it.

Milo stood and made sure the drawing was propped up so she could see it. Then he retrieved his backpack and left, promising to see her again on Tuesday.