Mine.
What do I call it? Maybe I need to make it up. Find a word. Because it sucks. All of it.
I don’t think time heals wounds; it just makes space where we grow around them, like a tree that keeps growing around the big ridge of a scar. The damage stays, but life moves on. The little black hole where Nick’s love used to be won’t ever go away, so instead, I pick myself up and try not to let it grow and consume me.
God, I miss him so much.
I shake it off. I don’t have time to fall apart again today, and dinner’s getting cold. I wipe away my tears and open the front door to call on the girls, who run to me, hand in hand, wide smiles on their faces.
Vero rushes past me going into the house. “Wash your hands!” I shout, and she giggles, heading straight into the guest bathroom.
Bella looks down at the fixed porch and eyes me knowingly. “Nice porch.” She walks past me, leaving me shaking my head.
“Hands, Bella.” I cry so much. All the time, really, and this girl is not even fazed by my swollen red eyes and my red cheeks.
I shut the door behind me. Bella's in the kitchen, one that matches the rest of the house, washing her hands, not moving her eyes from the take out bag.
Oh, crap.
“Did Mr. Holden bring us dinner too?” I get the urge to throw a towel at her face, but I don’t. I’m supposed to be the adult here.
“I guess so,” I add nonchalantly, helping a very bouncy Vero up into her seat and taking mine.
Bella sits silently, that smirk on her face, as I grab a taco and take a bite. “He must be areallygood friend.”
I all but choke on my taco. I ignore her and continue eating, making casual conversation with Vero, who struggles to answer long questions, so I repeat easier, smaller ones for her.
“It would be okay, you know?” Bella asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“What would, sweetie?”
“If you dated,” she says matter of fact, taking me by surprise. I mean, Bella is turning fifteen, I know she knows about dating and intimacy, about life, but it never crossed my mind to ask her how she felt about me seeing someone.
It never did, because it has never seemed like something I was interested in.
Am I? Interested? Now?
“You’re pretty badass, Mom. You deserve to have someone fall in love with you again. Dad would have wanted you to be happy.”
Oh, no. Not the tears again.
“Stop it. Please.” She shoves another chip with guacamole into her mouth. “You need to stop crying every time we say something nice about you. You’ll get dehydrated.”
I chuckle as I chase my tears away.
“Don’t be sad, Mama. Tacosawegood!” Her sweet little speech sounds are getting better with each day.
Now, we both laugh, Bella and I looking at little Vero, completely oblivious to how broken her mama is.
“I’m not though, Bella.” I look at her, making sure she knows I mean it.
She shrugs in true teenager fashion. “Okay, but it would be fine if you were. All I’m saying.”
I open my mouth, but she shakes her head. “Drop it.”
“Okay.” We continue eating our dinner with random conversation about school and the plans for the rest of the summer. As usual, it’s flying by. I feel like I’ll blink, and Bella will be leaving me to go do whatever it is she wants to do after she graduates. College, travel, or whatever that is. I feel like if I close my eyes long enough, I’ll miss it all. So, I try my hardest not totake any moment for granted and enjoy my time with them, even if it’s in the most common things. In the everyday things. That’s where magic happens anyway.
It feels good to be able to enjoy this moment without the cloud of needing to cook dinner, clean dishes, and even fix the porch looming over my head. I forgot how good it feels not to carry it all on my own.
