“Have you at least started on her room yet?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, picking at my potato salad with my fork. “I’ll get to it in my own time.”
“I’m just saying-”
“I said no.” My words came out harsh, but I didn’t take them back.
The rest of our dinner was awkward, with the heavy weight of the topic I refused to discuss hanging over us. I hated the tension in the air, but I couldn’t talk about this. Didn’t he understand that I wasn’t ready?
Jason left while I was clearing the table, suddenly eager to get home to Lexie. At least some good came from this.
Damn, I wanted a cigarette.
Instead, I popped a stick of gum into my mouth, glad that I had thrown out every pack I had in the house when I committed to quitting. I knew myself well enough to know that I would cheat if there was a single cigarette in the house.
Now that I was alone, the house was too quiet. So, I tried flipping through the TV channels, but Jason’s words lingered in my mind. I knew that he was right, but I felt like I was still reeling from the news of her death, unable to fully believe that she was never going to walk through the door again. It had been six months; shouldn’t this get easier?
“Fuck it,” I said out loud to myself.
I walked down the hall in the back of the house, passing by my bedroom and opening the door at the end of the hall. The room looked the same as it did the day my mom left and never came back. It was just like any other day. I was at Ink Envy while she ran errands. She was at the pharmacy when she collapsed.
It was a brain aneurysm. The coroner said that she probably had it for years without even knowing. It ruptured, and she was gone before she even hit the floor. I supposed that should’ve been a comfort, but everything felt too surreal.
I crossed the room, taking a seat on the bed. There was a romance book upside down on the nightstand, only halfway finished. I picked it up, closing it. As I ran my fingers over the cover, I felt a wave of burning anger. I didn’t have an outlet for it, knowing that there was no one to blame for what happened.
Unless I wanted to lay the blame on fate or God or something intangible like that. But what good would that do?
I left the book on the unmade bed and crossed to the closet. Opening it, I saw an untidy pile of shoes on the floor and rows of dresses hanging above them. It was nothing special. I should just box it all up and donate it. I could turn this room into a guest bedroom. It was meant to be the master suite, so it was bigger than my room, but I didn’t think I could ever claim it as my own.
And then what would I do? Redecorate the living room? The kitchen? Erase all traces of my mom and move on with my life? Maybe that was the healthy thing to do, but it made everything real. I knew that I was weak, but I didn’t want to face that reality yet.
So, I walked out of the room, closing the door behind me. I grabbed a bottle of beer from the kitchen and continued outside, resuming my seat on the patio. I was tempted to go out, but I felt like I had to prove something to myself. I could spend the evening here alone.
It might be the best way to begin moving on.
Yet, deep loneliness echoed inside of me. I just wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Six
Blade
I was just stepping out of the shower, with water running in rivulets down my body, when my cell phone started ringing in the next room. I snagged a towel off the rack and raced out into the bedroom, only to scowl at it when I saw the name on the caller ID. Still, I accepted the call, sure that he’d just call again if I ignored him. He always got his way.
“Hey, Dad,” I said with a sigh. Putting the call on speakerphone, I set the phone down on my dresser and started drying off.
“William.” He already sounded tense, and it was only seven in the morning.
“Blade, Dad. I go by Blade.”
“That’s not the name your mother and I gave you. Speaking of your mother, I’m sure you know her birthday is next week.”
Ididn’tknow that, but I probably should have.
“Okay. What’s the plan?”
“I want you to meet us for dinner on Sunday. Bring a gift.”
My parents lived in Santino Bay, just two hours north of La Playa. It was a gorgeous ride, even taking the back roads. The ocean was constantly on one side, and the other side was mostly valleys and farmland with the far-off Blackridge Mountains as a backdrop.
