“Where do you want these?” Douglass, Jules boyfriend, asked, holding up a paper grocery bag.
I just stared at him. Couldn’t formulate an answer. What was even in the bag? How could I possibly answer that question? Everything felt hard. Including speaking.
“The fridge, obviously the fridge.” Jules steered him towards it and then proceeded to dig through the produce they’d left the last time they were here—it was probably rotten now.
Sloane dumped an ungodly amount of cheese sticks into the deli drawer and then started arranging far too many types of cookies on the kitchen island.
A moment later, Sloane was pulling down a bowl from the cupboard and microwaving some sort of soup that I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat even if I wanted to.
Nothing else existed as my eyes locked onto something shimmering near the sink, and I wasn’t sure when I’d gotten up, but I was already floating towards it. It was sort of horrifying the way it was just sitting in the soap dish,waiting, like she was coming back for it at any moment.Her wedding ring.
These tiny little habits and memories of my mother were all over the house, and you’d stumble across them when you least expected it. Every time it happened, it was always bittersweet.
I slipped my mother’s ring on, finding it loose, but I knew, three months ago it probably would have fit. God, my hands looked so much like hers. I didn’t know if I hated or loved that—the never being able to look at my hands and not think of my mother.
Sloane placed the bowl of soup on the table. “I got my grandma’s chicken noodle soup recipe. Do you think you can try to get something down today?” She asked gently.
The smell of it was already making me nauseas, and I shook my headnoand wandered down the hall.
Collapsing onto the nearest couch, I closed my eyes, twisting the ring with my thumb as if it were a magic genie lamp that could somehow bring my mother back. Maybe if I rubbed it long enough, wished hard enough.
Even from down the hall, I could hear them all whispering aboutwhat to do,and I couldn’t find it in me to care. I was just too exhausted.
I felt someone sink into the couch cushion next to me, andJules gentle voice spoke, “Sloane called Liam. He’s going to come pick you up tomorrow and take you over to his place.”
I hummed in response as I let myself drift off into a tormented sleep. I hoped I wouldn’t dream. Peaceful darkness would be nice for once.
It was the middle of the night when I finally woke up on the couch, groggy, with a pounding headache. Slowly trudging upstairs, I noticed my father’s car still wasn’t in the driveway.
He hardly came home anymore. Where he went, I had no idea, but when hewashome, he didn’t even sleep in his bedroom, he opted for the couch in his office. We hadn’t spoken more than a few passing words in weeks, and I knew he was in pain,but so was I.
As I collapsed into my bed, I suddenly wondered if I’d ever really had a relationship with my father at all. My mother was never coming back, I knew that, but for some reason it felt like I’d lost my father too.
“Sorry for your loss.” A tall, ominous presence continued to hover in front of me.
I started to respond before I realized who it was. “Thank you.” I tensed the moment I looked up at that sneering face.
“I amtruly sorry.” Taggart Caldwell said, looking vaguely sympathetic and then, “You should have tried harder to save her.”
Anger and grief slammed into me, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t for some reason.
Sloane was on one side of me, Jules and Ariana on the other. “You’ve done enough.” They seethed at him, their voices sounding like snakes.
“He’s right, you know.” My brother turned to me. “Whydidn’t you trade places with her? You’re the one who deserves to be in that casket.”
I tried to speak, but I couldn’t, and as I looked down into my mother’s casket, I realized she was gone. I tried to scream, to tell someone she was missing, but I couldn’t. Not a sound would come out of my mouth.
I was suffocating. Silken fabric pressed against my face.
Iwas in the casket.Iwas my mother, and we were dead.
I woke up screaming, gasping for breath, and nobody was there to hear me.
I was lost in my own thoughts, just waiting, when the front door pushed open. “Hey Sar-Bear.” Liam said, a sad, lopsided smile on his face. “Damn, you look terrible.” I knew it was meant to be a joke, but it came out far too sincere.
My lower lip quivered, and his eyes were shiny as he pulled me against his broad frame—as the first sob cracked out of me, I was already being crushed into my brother’s warm, solid embrace.
“I know.” His voice wavered. “I miss her too.”
