twenty-eight
Ihave been going through the motions, and I know it. I feel like I am barely living anymore.
Cora has been checking in with me daily. I appreciate her effort, but she reminds me of Wyatt, which causes me a whole new level of distress.
Ever since the day of the funeral, he has given me space like I asked. He smiles when he sees me, but I haven’t brought myself to talk to him again. I know I need to, but I’m drowning.
It’s been two weeks since we spread my father’s ashes in his favorite fishing lake. Two weeks since I allowed myself to really feel anything. Since then, I’ve been focusing on school and pushing down any emotions that threaten to escape.
No one talks about that. They talk about the grief and how hard it is to lose someone, but they don’t talk about how hard it is to watch the world move on around you when you are stuck in that one moment.
Will is back at work, but I know he is feeling the pain too. I see the empty beer bottles in the trash. He is self-medicating in a way that I wish I could be mad at him for, but I can’t. He deserves a little leniency. I mean, aren’t I dealing with it in my own way? I know ignoring my feelings isn’t healthy either, yet I’m doing it.
We are both so lost. I wish I knew what to do to make it better.
There’s a knock at the door, but I don’t move. I don’t want to.
“Lyla, can you grab the door?” Will calls to me from the kitchen.
I slowly stand. I can’t deny Will. Not when I know he needs me as much as I need him.
When I open the door, I’m surprised to find Rachelle standing there.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” I ask her.
She holds out the casserole dish and a card.
“I figure you were inundated with food the first week or two. I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by. I know we aren’t supposed to, but I wanted to check on you,” she says.
“Of course. Come in. Will is in the kitchen.”
I point the way before shutting the door behind her, and I follow her into the kitchen.
“Look who stopped by, Will,” I say.
He turns, then his eyes widen. “Rachelle. How are you?”
She gives a small smile. “I’m fine. The real question is how are you doing?”
He shrugs as he wipes his wet hands on a towel. “I’m hanging in there. It was nice of you to stop by.”
She nods, looking at each of us. “I made this for you. The office also sent a card. Your dad was one of our favorites.”
“He hit on all of you,” I remind her.
“Not in a gross way, though. It was all jokes with him. He liked to bring others up by making them smile. He was a good man.”
I look down at the floor, tears threatening my eyes.
“Thank you for that program. I’m sorry we didn’t get to use it more, but it helped. I know we both wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, but it was nice to know he was cared for when we needed a break.” Will continues the conversation, taking attention off of me.
“It was a blessing, really. The Scott Family Foundation is known for doing charitable work, but not usually like this. They focus more on children and animals. We hadn’t even applied for anything, so it was a shock when they chose us for the grant to start the program. Their only stipulation was to start it right away. Actually, you were the first family picked out by the administrator.”
My head snaps up.
The Scott Family Foundation.
It couldn’t be Wyatt’s family, could it?
