My head whips in his direction. “No, I’m not.”
The arrogant smirk that dances on his lips saysI know you, Rose.
For some strange reason he decides let it go and helps me with bracelets. We make them in silence and it’s the comfortable kind.
Every now and then, his fingers brush against mine or his body leans closer in my direction, and the butterflies in my stomach go in a frenzy. Every little gesture is like a shot ofelectricity sizzling up all the wires in my system and bringing me to life.
But nothing affects me more than when our eyes lock and it seems like helikeslooking at me. As if he finds the mere sight of me is lovely to him and he doesn’t want to ever look away from me.
In all those short glimpses he makes me feelspecial.
14
HEATH
It’slate night when I stroll into Emery’s bedroom. It’ll be a sleepless night that I haven’t had in the past months.
Because of Hope.
She’s the reason.
Ever since meeting her, she’s all I can think about. One look at her and she’s captured my mind and made a home there. It’s filled with pictures of her smiling, laughing, blushing and crying. Every emotion that she expresses, my eyes capture it and my brain hangs it on its walls. Other things exist alongside her, but they don’t compare to her. Even my grief.
But tonight, standing outside my sister’s room, that home gets swept away with the force of sadness that welcomes me. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this emotion and I realize how much I’ve missed the feeling of it. I’ve lived with it for more than a year and unknowingly it made a home inside of me. One that I had no intention of destroying or getting rid of.
Grief and sadness mix together into a strong potion. Within seconds my veins are flowing with the concoction and everything inside of me hurts.
Inhaling a deep breath, I reach for the knob and twist it. I step inside only to find Mom sleeping on the bed, holding onto a purple dress that Emery used to wear a lot. I wonder if it still smells like her? No one has touched a single thing in this room. Kelly and Derek both know this place is off limits. Kelly cleans it once in a while but she’s very careful with it, making sure nothing gets repositioned. It’s considerate of her and I’m thankful to her.
Mom frowns in her sleep, and tightly clutches the material in her hands. Distress contorts her face.
The sight tugs my heartstrings for some insane reason.
I’m at a war myself with her and Dad being here and sharing the same with me. For the longest time, this room, this house and all the things were mine, but now they are theirs, too. It all belonged to them anyway because they paid for it, but I felt an ownership because they weren’t here.
A cry leaves past her lips and on instinct my feet move me towards the bed. It happens so sudden, without a second thought. As if my body couldn’t resist not comforting her.
She calls for Emery’s name, her voice filled with pain as if she’s being pulled apart at the seams.
I run a hand through my hair, not knowing what to do.
She is having a nightmare and I just woke up from mine a few minutes ago.
Leaving the dress, her hands drift in the air, desperately searching for Emery as she keeps calling her name. Her cries and worry growing more as she doesn’t find her.
Surprise roots my feet on the ground, my body unable to move.
I knew something was wrong with Mom but I didn’t expect her to be experiencing nightmares. It’s been a year and she lives in Canada where places and things aren’t marked by my sister’s existence.
Sometimes moving away from a place makes it easier to forget the bad memories tied to that place.
However, I understand now that hasn’t been the case with my mother.
She misses Emery dearly. There’s no faking in the way she’s calling her and reaching for her.
In my head, I’d convinced myself that my parents don’t care about us. After all I had a lot of evidence to back up that claim.
From early on they us left us and rarely checked up on us. Their involvement in our lives was scarce. Kelly and Derek are the only people we knew who were always present when we needed something and sometimes talked to us. They had chores to do and they weren’t invested in listening to how we were doing at school, if we had friends or how was our day? Those random questions felt personal and special because we’d been talking about ourselves, but my sister and I realized that no one wanted to hear our answers. Our parents lived far away from us and they visited once a year for a short amount of time, even if we answered those questions they didn’t have the time.
