It isn’t the one who is all sunshine and rainbows, the one who laughs and jokes nonstop. It’s a different version, a sad one, and even though she’d probably be more than happy with me pretending I don’t notice, I can’t.
Her hands stop their movements, and her head turns to me. When her eyes meet mine, my chest twists at the pain there. It’s so startlingly familiar, it takes the breath out of my lungs. I’ve seen that look before—not on Hallie’s face, but on Emma’s. She looks away quickly, standing up with a pair of sweatpants in her hands that she tosses into the small pile on her bed before taking a few steps to the window, staring off into the snow-covered trees behind her house.
“I needed a distraction.” I think she’s going to stop there, so I’m shocked when her low voice fills the room again. “I did something stupid, got on social media, and started searching for her. I’m a glutton for punishment, I suppose.” Despite my confusion, I stay quiet, realizing she needs to get this out more than I need to understand what she’s telling me. “My stepsister got married last weekend.” The pain in her words has me standing on instinct, taking the three steps to her, and reaching out for her hand. My fingers wrap around hers, twining them together before squeezing, and she returns the move before continuing to talk.
“My mom was at the wedding, and there were pictures of her helping her put on the veil. A small moment, but the look on her face…she was so proud. So happy. If you didn’t know any better, you might think that she washermom.” She looks out at the woods, eyes distant when she whispers her following words. “She’smy mom, though.” A tear falls, traveling over the apple of her cheek and dropping onto the dark green sweatshirt she’s wearing, making a darker spot that spreads slowly. “You know, two years ago, I stopped being the one to initiate a conversation, just to see what would happen. I haven’t heard from her since.”
My chest tightens with the sadness in her words.
“Hallie—” I start, but she keeps talking.
“My whole life, I always wanted to see the best in her. I made excuses for years about why she left.” She shakes her head, a huff of air leaving her lips that is supposed to be a laugh but lacks any hint of humor. “Sometimes, it was my dad’s fault. Or Colt’s fault. Or the town’s fault, even though she is the one who forced Dad to move here, away from his own family. Sometimes, I told myself it was my fault, because at the time, I was being such a dick. I was ten, you know? A lot of feelings, a lot of emotions. A lot of hormones.”
She turns and smiles at me, knowing I’m living that currently.
“I held the divorce against my dad most of all, because on the weekends I’d see her, which were few and far between, she’d tell me the breakup was his fault in no uncertain terms. I loved her, and my dad never spoke poorly about my mom, so I believed her. At the time, his not talking felt like a guilty conscience, like he knew it was his fault, so he just kept quiet.” My thumb brushes over hers, a silent encouragement to continue. “But I realize now, it was him trying to protect me. He didn’t want me to feel all of…this toward her.”
She looks up at me with humor on her face.
“Two years ago, Nat made some off-handed remark about my mom leaving my family for another man, and I wanted to argue. But then I realized I couldn’t. It was like she took off the rose-colored glasses I viewed my childhood through, and I could finally see it for what it was. My mom let my dad keep the house and have full custody, and she made it sound like it was a sacrifice she madefor us. She wanted Colt and me to stay in the school system, so sheletmy dad have the house and, in turn, us.” I can see how, as a kid, that could be spun as a positive, but as an adult, the reality of that would hit hard and painful.
It seems that reality struck Hallie two years ago.
She sniffs, tears falling quickly now, dripping into her sweatshirt, dark puddles forming. Her hand lifts, smearing the tracks across her cheeks before she continues. “But really, she just…gave up on us. Let Dad keep what she decided she didn’t want anymore, and then she started over with her cute little new family an hour away from us. He has two kids: a daughter who is a year younger than me and a son who is a year older, and they all live together. She went to her dance recitals and his football games and then made excuses when she missed mine. I just…I don’t get it.” More tears, and her voice cracks when she speaks.“What did they have that I didn’t? What made her want to be there, with them, but not here, with me?”
Her voice breaks me in two, pain lancing through me as I suddenly understand her just a bit more, her fear and her baggage laid out before me in a way I somehow know she doesn’t do often, if ever. “Hallie—” Her head snaps to me, and her eyes are glassy, her jaw set.
“Please,” she whispers, her voice strained. “Please do not pity me. I would not be able to handle it, Jesse. Everyone talks to me with soft words and apologies when I talk about this, and I can’t take that pity from you. You’re the only one who’s never looked at me like I’m the girl whose own mother doesn’t love her, and if I see it on your face, it’s going to break me, Jesse. Please don’t.”
Her voice is raw, unshed tears burning there, and a million things go through my mind. Thoughts, apologies, and consolations, but none of them are right. And despite the situations being so incredibly different, I get it. The looks I got when Kim left and the looks I still get when people find out I’m raising my daughter on my own sometimes are enough to make me want to hide away.
Instead of speaking, I move, pulling her into me, pressing her chest to mine, and wrapping my arms around her and holding her tight.
I don’t say I’m sorry.
I don’t tell her that she deserved better.
I don’t tell her that her mother is a colossal fucking bitch and an even bigger moron, losing out on the most beautiful, kind woman in the world.
Instead, I just hold her.
For a moment, her body is still, but I lift a hand, grazing it down her back. With the simple move, her body melts into mine. Silent tears come, her body shaking with them, but I don’t speak.I just hold her, her face in my neck, as she lets it out. Somehow, I know it’s what she needs.
And somehow, in the depths of my consciousness, I knowIam what she needs.
My mind falters on that thought for long, long moments, tumbling over it like a rough stone I’m trying to polish, to understand. I sit with it for long enough that I don’t realize when her breaths even out or when her tears dry, not until she pulls away. I fight the urge to tighten my arms, to keep her close as she shifts back to look at me. Her eyes are red, but she seems better, less weighed down by her emotions. I keep one arm around her as a hand lifts, pushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
“You good?” I ask softly. She lets out a laugh, a real one, thankfully, and a smile spreads across her lips.
“Yeah. I think I just needed that.”
I nod, understanding, but now unsure of what to do next. She fills in the silence for me, licking her lips before speaking.
“Are you going to be weird with me now?” she asks with a grimace.
“Weird?”
“I had this same breakdown once with Wren, and she brought me baked goods every day for a month. I think she was doing wellness check-ins to make sure I didn’t need a grippy sock vacation.”
