“Mira,” Lewis says, and crouches beside the couch where I’m curled in the fetal position. “I heard. I’m so sorry. For everything. I should have talked to you sooner. I was worried about your relationship with your mom and I didn’t handle it well. I thought it would be you instead of…”
“You thought I’d die first.”
He nods.
Deep down, I thought I would die first too. I was supposed to die in those woods, or by the hand of one of my mom’s abusive boyfriends. I don’t know how to deal with this new reality. It feels no less awful.
Gen and Lewis stay the night in the bedroom, and Tyler and I sleep on the couch because I have no energy to move from where I am. Day turns into night and night day, but my internal clock is off. I am fully awake in the evening and doze during the day while visitors come and go. John and Becky bring food. Nessa and Zach are here, then gone, then back again. I can’t keep track. My brain is as cold and slow as my hands. And the whole time, Tyler holds me. When I’m not cradled on his lap, I am tucked next to his side. If anyone notices, they don’t say anything.
On day three, or four, I’m not really sure, I take a shower. I stand under the warm stream and the heat loosens the fist that’s had a grip on my chest since my mother’s boyfriend shared the news. Warmth pools around my heart, my throat goes salty and dry. Tears begin to pour from my eyes. A keening sound pierces my ears. Coming from me?
I can’t breathe. I am gasping and choking from the tears and the shower water sluicing down my face.
A loud pop sounds outside the shower curtain. The bathroom door handle being busted off. Tyler walks in and shuts off the water, wrapping me in a towel. He carries me out of the bathroom and up the ladder to the loft, one hand under my knees as I cling to his shoulders and neck. He tucks me under the covers of his bed and curls his body around me, while I weep for a mother who never loved me.
Who left me.
For good.
The next morning, I wake to light streaming through the small window in Tyler’s loft. His face is unshaven, and he looks as if he’s gone a good week without a razor. His short beard is red.
I take in the smooth skin above the facial hair, the way his dark lashes fan out above his high cheekbones. He is beautiful.
I kiss his nose.
A thick arm tightens around my waist and his eyes flicker open. Tyler raises a hand to my forehead, brushing the hair back. “I’m sorry,” he says.
I cuddle in closer and Tyler holds me tight. He said I wasn’t alone, that I had other people besides my mom and Lewis’s family, but it wasn’t until I lost my mom that I believed it.
I pull back and look into eyes that hold a touch of shadow beneath, as if he hasn’t had much sleep either. “Let’s get dressed and take a walk.”
Tyler makes me toast and eggs while I change into jeans, flip-flops, and a light sweater. We eat breakfast, then walk into the bright morning light. I touch the envelope I tucked in the back pocket of my jeans as we head for the lake a few blocks away.
Birds chirp, a few cars pass us on their way to places unknown. The world should be a dark place, but it isn’t. The sky is bright blue, the crisp scent of the pine and soil cleansing the air. There is laughter as we near a busy intersection. Life goes on, and it seems happier than the one I’ve lived in.
We cross the boulevard that divides the lake from the strip, and I walk down a flight of stairs to the sand. A portion of an old cement pylon rests at the foot of the stairs and I climb on top, staring out at the lake, mesmerized by its constancy. Tyler stands beside the pylon, picking up rocks and tossing them into the shallow waves.
I pull out the envelope from my mother and open it. Tyler climbs up and sits beside me, close, but not crowding, his gaze on the water.
I unfold lined paper it appears my mother tore from a spiral notepad.
Mira,
* * *
This has been gnawing at me, but I never can get it out when you’re around, so I’m saying it here. Maybe one day you’ll find it. I wish you could have known your daddy. He was a handsome son of a bitch, a charmer. And one day he was mine. I never felt so good as when your daddy was mine. I was happy when you were born, but then your daddy left me. You’re not a bad kid, just a reminder of losing him. But you’ve been there for me, and that’s more than I can say for most people in this rotten world. You’re different, girl. A good kid.
* * *
Mom
My breath hitches. Tyler’s arm snakes around my shoulders, holding me up. I fold the note carefully and place it in the envelope.
All these years I thought I wanted my mom’s love, and I did, but this means something too. I’m different from her and my father. Even my mother acknowledged it, and for once she didn’t seem disappointed.
“Tyler, I think I want to be alone for a couple of days.”
He stares down at me, confused. “Why? I don’t want to leave you.”
