“You’re not,” I say. “You’re even prettier than pretty.”
“Shut up!” She shoves me, her nails tickle my side. “I’m serious.”
“The only ten I see.”
“Get out,” she says. “Just for that one, you need to leave.”
Our laughs merge into one song.
“Rowan?” she murmurs.
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
She adjusts the pillow beneath her head. “How are you always so happy?”
I shrug. “I’m not always happy,” I say quietly. “I have my moments too.”
“You don’t let me see them.”
I scratch the side of my head, wrinkling my nose. I don’t talk about it much—it’s easier not to. I just keep it to myself. Ireplay the moments that were sad and daydream about the good ones. I think of my mom as the thing that keeps me happy. I picture her as a guardian angel, still roaming the streets of this town, putting up signs and volunteering for everything.
The day of her service, I kept my head down and pretended to accept everyone’s apologies, prayers, and condolences. It’s exhausting every time someone comes up to you, all of them in a single line, repeating the same lines:I’m so sorry for your loss. She was lovely. You still have us. Stay strong.
I remember wishing I could shout at everyone to shut the fuck up and leave us alone. People we hadn’t seen or spoken to in years had shown up and I hated those people even more. Fuck, I miss her and I’d give anything to hug my mother right now. To feel her body in my arms and her hands on my back, rubbing gently with whispers of, “I love you”and“It’s going to be okay.”I can’t even remember the way she felt. The last time we hugged, she felt so real and I never really thought about her simply disappearing from existence.
But death is funny like that.
Inhaling deeply and shakily, I rub my eyes with my finger tips and release a long exhale.
“Tell me,” Natalia whispers
“It’s nothing.”
“Okay.” She sighs. “But don’t get upset the next time I sayit’s nothing.”
A weak smile draws at the corner of my lips. “Touché.”
I can’t bring myself to look at her. If I’m barely breathing right now, I’ll suffocate the moment I see her eyes.
“Hey,” she says as she kisses my stubbled cheek.
“Sorry, I’m just…thinking about my mother.”
“You miss her.”
I nod. “She keeps me happy,” I say. “Every day, I pass the church we had her service in and I get sad for a bit. Sometimes it ruins my day.”
“I’m sorry,” Natalia croaks. “But she still visits, right?”
I nod again, half-smiling thinking of my mother’s ghost. “She does.”
“It hurts,” Natalia says, drawing shapes on my chest with her finger tip. “Missing someone.”
“It does.”It burns.
She rubs the skin over my heart with her hand. “I miss people too.”
“Yeah?”
