Present
Itossed and turned all night. Not that sleep has ever been a friend of mine, but last night I couldn’t seem to fight off the memories long enough to squeeze in an hour. Before Linc strolled back into town, I was doing a good job of keeping them away.
Especially the bad ones.
But now they roll in like thunder and strike like lightning, a raging storm of pain and regret. The only regret I don’t have sits in the passenger seat next to me. She’s the only reason I made it through the last few years.
She’s the only good piece left of my shattered world.
And I’m trying like hell not to break it, too.
“Mama, please don’t make me go. Why can’t I just stay home with you?” Caroline pleads as I drive her to school.
This is almost an everyday thing. She hates going to school. She hates interacting with people. Probably because they all know what happened to her father.
Everyone in this damn town knows.
“Sweetie, we’ve been over this. You have to go.”
“I don’t want to be around those kids.”
“Why not?”
“Because they all look at me weird,” Caroline says quietly, looking out the passenger side window.
Kids can be so cruel sometimes. I’ve thought about homeschooling but the counselor said that would only make it worse. My heart clenches in my chest as tears clog my throat. I have no idea how to help her because I still don’t know how to help myself.
“Baby, it’ll get better with time,” I tell her gently.
That’s my answer to everything.
I tell myself that over and over but even I don’t believe it. It’s been a year and we’re still stuck in the same place.
My Caroline is not like other kids. She’s endured far more in her seven years than most kids her age. She’s so strong.
Far stronger than me.
When she leans over to kiss my cheek, I place my hand on her arm. My heart aches for her. She’s been to grief counseling. We both have. But she’s still distant and it’s killing me. She wants to deal with it on her own and part of me wants to let her, but I know it’s not healthy. But how in the hell are we supposed to move past this if I can’t even talk about it? I don’t know how to help her move on because I’m still stuck in the past myself.
“I love you, Caroline.”
“Love you too, Mama.”
The last year has been hard on her, and I’m doing my best to pick up the pieces and find a sense of normalcy but it’s just so hard. I want to be able to talk about Dean without all of this anger and resentment bubbling up from inside of me but it’s still impossible to do. And even though Caroline saw and heard more than I ever wanted her to, she loves her father very much. Since I’m uncertain with how I should be coping with his memory, much less honor it, I have, instead, buried it.
It might not be fair but it’s the only thing I’m capable of at the moment.
I’m just doing what I can to survive.
After dropping Caroline off at school, I rush back home so I’m not late for my appointment. I have someone coming to look at the roof to give me an estimate on the storm damage from last week. The last thing I need is another bill on my table but what else am I going to do? I have to get it fixed or else we’ll be swimming in the living room with the next storm that rolls through.
I only have ten minutes to spare by the time I pull into the driveway. Enough time to brew a pot of coffee and clean up the dishes from breakfast. I remember Linc’s promise to come by this morning, but I ignore the flutter in my belly at the thought.
Just as I turn the knob to start the dishwasher, there’s a knock at the front door.
Making my way through the tiny foyer, I stop to adjust a crooked picture of Caroline the day she turned four years old. I close my eyes against the memory and the heartache the day brought with it.
Not now, Sylvie.
