A Conversation

Curled up last night in bed with Lilly, trying to go to sleep, she asked, "You love me, don't you?"
"Of course I do."
"It's okay, you know."
"It's not."
"I think I'm going to love you, too, when this is over."
"Not now?"
"I'm scared to shit. This thing with Tommy is fucked up. I never thought anything could be this fucked up. I need you. I think that without you, I might run off into the woods myself. Either that or never come out of bed again." 

Then, after a minute of silence:  "Do you think they'll find him?"
"Eventually."
"I don't think I could ever see him again."
"Maybe you'll never have to."
More silence.

"If this all blows up in our faces, will you stay with me?"
"Of course."
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen. All I wanted to do was scare him. I didn't intend... well... whatever did happen."
"It'll turn out okay."
"What if it doesn't?"

I couldn't answer her. I just stroked her hair behind her ear until we fell asleep.