Thankfully, no one is here to witness any of this.
But Jack will be back soon, so I must suck it up and get over it.
The tears slow. I shuffle through my closet, trying to find something comfortable to wear. My hands stop on a sweater I usually pass without a second thought. It’s a short dress rather than a top that shows off my legs and a fair amount of my shoulders.
I’ve never had the nerve to wear it out.
Put on one of your sweater dress things.
I chuckle to myself. Jack probably meant for me to throw on a dress and a cardigan because that’s my signature look. But I feel less than spectacular, and I want to change that.
Sometimes masks are easier to wear when you have a costume to accompany them—my countless years in theater taught me that.
With a deep breath, I collect myself. Wipe my eyes dry. Put the mask back on and prepare to return to a world that could never know the strength I have to gather simply to live.
ChapterThirteen
Jack Parker
Play:All These Things That I’ve Done by the Killers
After ten years, I should be more prepared to handle my dad’s birthday.
But it still stings just as much as it did the first year.
Not that I let on how damaged I am by the whole thing. I can hear everyone now.It’s been ten years. Are you still not over that? Let go, man.
For whatever reason, my masochist tendencies are determined to keep their sharp talons embedded in a world of grief. No matter how much I hoped I’d move past this eventually.
I hoped that this year, without game theatrics hanging over me, I could muscle through the day differently.
But I was wrong. This day still sucks ass.
And when Big Ed texted me this morning,This one’s for him,that was it. That’s all it took to send me spiraling.
I stayed in bed most of the morning, ignoring the eerie scratches on the window and a muffled “maa.”
Simone came and asked if I was ready to go to the cemetery. I declined but agreed to be at dinner.
Dinner was miserable. My family was overly cheery considering the circumstances, regaling my dad’s life stories. Tales that I’ve repressed because I’ve overanalyzed my actions in every single one.
Why did my dad keep his cancer a secret from me?
From what I’ve gathered from my sisters over the years, Alex Piotrowski wasn’t too far off, he thought I’d be too emotional. But what had I done that made him think I’d react that way?
After dinner, the threat of watching home movies had my skin crawling, so I bolted, claiming I was behind on my fitness training.
And then I ran.
And ran.
And when a particular goat who’s formed an odd obsession with me joined in the chaos, I didn’t think. I just kept running on instinct. My feet followed an unfamiliar dirt path dusted with oranges, reds, and yellows.
And, like a sick twist of fate, it landed methere.
The last person I wanted to see in my fucked-up state was once again the only person I needed.
I tried to play it off like I was there to see Gus, but I knew I was lying to myself the minute I saw Aulie bathed in the fire’s flickering light.
