Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
A tear trailed down my cheek. “I’m not coming back,” I said. “I’m not going to make your death routine. Not going to make it okay. Because it’s not. And I’m so angry at you. I’m not even angry at you for dying. I’m angry at you for coming up to me in the halls. For making me fall in love with you then leaving. Most of all, I’m angry at you for coming back for me. For patching in and giving me no choice but to live a happy life with you.”
I wiped away my tears, standing to leave.
“And I can’t even wish I’d never met you, because I wouldn’t have our children. Wishing for that would make me a wicked, selfish person, yet I feel like that all the time. I hate you for dying. For living. For everything.”
“Thanks for taking care of them,” I said to my mom, watching the kids from the window.
“You don’t need to thank me, they’re my grandchildren,” my mother replied, an edge to her voice.
It was nice that she wasn’t treating me with care. Even though it should’ve upset me, it actually reassured me. I didn’t need her to treat me like the moms at school were, like everyone I encountered at the grocery store did. Like the whole fucking town did. Like I was wounded, like I was surrounded by eggshells, that one must tread lightly when interacting with me. Even a year later.
I nodded, continuing to watch the kids outside. They played together well. Brothers and sisters were meant to hate each other, or that’s what I thought. But ever since Lily was born, Jack had taken it upon himself to make her his best friend, and that hadn’t changed over all of these years.
“They seem to be doing well,” Mom commented.
“Yeah, kids are resilient.” I replied. “Our kids, especially.”
“This is going to follow them around, no matter what,” my mom proclaimed.
I turned my attention to her. She was focusing on me with anger in her eyes.
“You’re going to be affected for life.”
I flinched. “I’m well aware of that.”
“I told you,” she hissed. “I told you that this would happen, marrying that boy. Staying with him through all of that. I told you that you would lose him.” She slung the words sloppily, her voice shaking with emotion, but they were missiles and they hit their mark.
“Yeah, Mom, you told me,” I agreed. “And you were right. I did lose him. Are you happy you’re right? What would you like from me in order to show you that you were right? Because I can’t give you anything right now. I don’t have anything.”
Her face drained of color as she fully realized what she’d said. My mother was a harsh woman. She’d never really have that maternal gene, no softness to her. But she was never intentionally cruel. Just like she didn’t have that motherly kind of love inside her, she didn’t have hatred either.
She didn’t know how to deal with this. With me, seeing this pain she couldn’t repair. Despite what she was, she was my mother, and she loved me in her own way. She didn’t want to hurt me.
“Elizabeth, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I know, Mom,” I replied.
“Good night, my sweet girl,” I said, kissing Lily on the forehead, wondering how much longer I had to tuck her in. “Say hi to Daddy in your dreams.”
She snuggled close to the worn stuffed rabbit she hadn’t slept with in years. “I always do,” she murmured sleepily.
I left the door open a crack so the light from the hall filtered in. Again, something I hadn’t done in years, but if a stuffed bunny and a halfway light did anything to make my fatherless daughter feel better, then that was okay with me.
Light from Jack’s room and the low hum of the TV told me he was still awake. Ranger and I didn’t usually let him watch TV in bed this late, but again, I didn’t really give a shit about the way things used to be. I had a feeling that the movies made him feel less alone, distracted him from his grief and helped him sleep without the quiet that would remind him he’d never hear the roar of his father’s motorcycle ever again.
I checked on him throughout the night—I checked on them both—and he was always asleep with some movie playing.
“What’s on tonight, my friend?” I asked, moving into his room.
He glanced to me. “Lost Boys”.
I raised my brows. “A classic. Not too scary, though?”
Jack gave me a ‘mom, really?’ type look. “No, Mom.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. You’re a fearless dude, I get it. Don’t stay up too late.”
“Okay, Mom.”
I leaned in to kiss his head. He made a face typical for a twelve-year-old being shown affection by his mother, but he let me.