I rub the ache in my chest that starts to bloom. I can’t go through that again. I barely survived losing August. I wouldn’t survive losing Isabelle.
Chapter twenty-nine
Tuesday, 25 February, 9:02 pm
ME:
Are you okay? Caleb said your leg is in a cast. Call me xx
Tuesday, 25 February, 10:16 pm
ME:
Caleb said you didn’t want to see anyone tonight. Can you just let me know when you get to your grandparents house? Please? xx
Wednesday, 26 February, 7:38 am
ME:
Are you awake? How are you feeling?
Wednesday, 26 February, 05:11 pm
ME:
Are you okay, Grim? Can I call you?
Thursday, 27 February, 11:46am
ME:
Please let me know you’re okay. I’m getting worried. Why won’t you answermy calls?
Thursday, 27 February, 8:12pm
ME:
I miss you. Is there anything I can do? I don’t understand. Please talk to me xx
***
I stare at my phone, willing the dots to dance and jump across the screen, but it just does what it always does: goes fromsenttoread.
“Still nothing from Gage?” Mum asks softly, kicking off her shoes before getting comfortable on the couch beside Dad. I’ve been here the last two nights, since the accident. Mum just got back from group therapy, so Dad and I have been keeping each other company.
I shake my head, turning my phone over so I can’t see the screen.
“No.” I pull the magazine I was barely reading back in front of me, and flick to the puzzles at the end. There’s a pen on the coffee table, where it always is, ready for Dad to do his Sudoku puzzles each morning. I click it open, then start reading down the clues for the crossword, unable to comprehend any of the questions. My mind just keeps circling back to Gage.
I slam the pen down, then twist around from my spot on the floor to face Mum and Dad.
“What should I do?” My body slumps, mimicking my mood for the past two days. “I think Gage is scared because of what he went through with August, but I thought he could talk to me. I thought, after everything we’ve been through, the way we’ve grown closer the last few months, that he knew I would be there for him.” My eyes drop, focusing on where my fingers run over the smooth yellow polish Wren chose for me yesterday. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m sure he knows that you want to be there for him. I’ll bet he even wants you with him right now. Hard things change you, darling. You never see life the same, you just learn how to react differently,” Mum says, and I know she’s drawing on her own experience with the past.
Dad picks up Mum’s hand and brings her palm to his lips, pressing a kiss there before he threads their fingers together and sets them down on her lap.
“It can be hard to learn the balance of loving someone who’s always healing. You so desperately want to take their pain. Slay their demons. But part of it is giving them space to reclaim their own peace and safety. They gotta know they can do it themselves, and that we’re just there to be the extra muscle when they need a break from carrying the weight. But you can’t take it from them straight away. Give them the time and opportunity to see if they can keep going, let them know it’s okay if they need help, and that you’re proud of them either way.”
