Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 12408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 50(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 62(@200wpm)___ 50(@250wpm)___ 41(@300wpm)
Anne settles in across from me and inhales the scent of her tea, then meets my eyes. “So,” she says, like we’ve been talking for a long time already and we’re only changing topics. “How was the party?”
“It was horrible.”
Her eyebrows go up. “Was it? I thought you felt positive about having your friends come to see you.”
“No.” I take a sip of my tea. It’s the perfect temperature, but it makes my throat ache. “No. It was—most of it was fun. Hazel pulled out all the stops. They all did. They really wanted to cheer me up.”
“But you weren’t cheered up?”
The sun streams in through the windows, and I’m reminded of the good things.
I need this. I just let all the thoughts fly out of my mouth.
“It just feels,” I say carefully, trying to be as accurate as I can about how I feel. It’s hard to find the words because my emotions are a mess. A big, painful mess that I can’t clean up or get rid of. “It feels like nothing can go right.”
“You know that’s not true, right?” Anne looks at me with soft eyes.
“I know.” I let out a heavy exhale. “I know.”
“Let’s look for proof that things can go right.” She glances out the window and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Did you have any trouble on the way here? Car trouble? Driver trouble?”
“No. The drive was—it was fine. The weather is nice even.” I could have walked, but I drove because I thought I’d turn around if I was on foot. “So that went right.”
“As far as I can tell, this morning hasn’t been all bad. You were on time. You didn’t have any problems with your car and didn’t get into an accident. You arrived in one piece. Did something specific happen over the weekend that’s making you feel this way?”
I didn’t want to talk about this. I really didn’t. It’s so meaningless. But now that Anne’s asked, it’s the only thing on my mind.
“I ran into my neighbor. My landlord. We…well, it wasn’t a fight, but he wasn’t happy because my friends and I were loud on Friday night. We kept him awake. He wasn’t—I don’t know. I overreacted, I think, but I was upset. And that’s why the party wasn’t wrapped up with a bow.”
Her brow arches. Oh Anne. I’m learning what that means. “Because of something he said?”
I shift in my seat and set the tea down. “Because he—I felt defensive about the noise because he could have said something and then it wouldn’t have been an issue. And then I dropped the shell.”
“A shell?” Anne asks, that brow still arched. It’s going to give her wrinkles.
“I found a shell on the beach. I was going to write on it like I used to do with my mom. We would come here for long weekends and sometimes in the summer we’d get a place, and we would write memories on shells and then throw it in the ocean to show thanks to the universe.”
Anne smiles kindly, “Your mom sounds like a gentle soul.”
I nod, my throat going tight, “She was.
“I was going to write a memory on it, about the party and how I missed her but she would have loved it, but it broke.” My eyes fill with tears. I can’t stop them. “When it broke, it just felt like the whole weekend broke with it. It’s supposed to be a shell for that day, you know? And I was so tired and it broke.”
Anne hands me a box of tissues. I take one and dab at my eyes, breathing deeply. I am not going to cry over the shell. I’m not going to cry again over the shell. Once is enough.
“What would your mother have done?” Anne questions.
“About what?”
“About the shell or about your landlord. About the party and the noise.”
“She would apologize,” I admit, my voice shaking. I’ll sob out loud when I get home, but not in front of Anne. Not right now. “She would try to make it right. She would have gotten another shell but I didn’t. Are you saying I should try again?”
“I’m saying that knowledge of your mom can’t be broken. It will always be with you.” Anne gives me an encouraging smile. “But maybe it would be worth trying again. Go get another shell, it’s okay that it’s not the same day. You can talk to your landlord. You can do whatever you want to do. Whatever your gut is telling you is right.”
With a rolled up tissue in my hand, I blink away the tears and nod. In my mind though I see Parker and my gut sinks. It’s a shitty feeling and even worse when I know I will not be able to explain this to him. If I do, I’ll break down and he’ll think I’ve lost it even more than he probably already does.