"I made mistakes Jude. Yes, I was irresponsible, and I could have handled so many things better, but he was killing me. The things he did…"
“You don’t have to think about that now. He cannot get to you again.”
“But that is just it, he did get to me. I started drinking, losing myself. I lost my relationship with my daughter, even this accident was him getting to me. I cannot understand how he could hate me that much.”
“He is a fool, Tara, a fool. And I want you to know that it is okay to feel defeated sometimes. It is okay to feel broken and lose hope even. But you need to also understand that you’re not alone anymore. Every time you talk yourself down there will be so many people here to remind you why you’re doing this.”
She smiled at me sadly.
“Picture it, you and Becca making breakfast and sitting out in these hammocks, talking about the boy she likes.”
"That is an awful one. At her age, I was already horny all the time."
“Were you now?”
"Around you." She laughed, and I tickled her.
"That better be true." I slid my hands between her thighs, slipping a finger into her wet pussy. She shut her eyes, and I thrust another one in, feeling her open for me. I circled her clit with my thumb, and she moaned in relief. I kissed her head.
"Let's get this day started," I said, standing and pulling her up with me.
I scooped her up and carried her to the shower.
Chapter 25
Tara
The day of the accident
What do you do when your world comes crumbling down around you? You fall. When I heard those words, granting my husband full custody of my child, I fell into an abyss. I was all alone, there was no one that I could turn to. I sat at the bar that afternoon, and I drowned my sorrows. I hated the woman in front of me, so I slammed a bottle at the mirror, getting me thrown out of the bar. It was raining hard, and the bartender called me a cab after asking me to hand over my car keys.
I didn't need him to babysit me, that was absolutely the last thing I wanted. But I handed him my keys anyway then climbed over the bar to retrieve them when he went to the back. I wrapped my jacket tightly around me and walked out into the piss storm. I didn't feel like going home. Reid said I could keep the house and my car, saying he didn't want to be reminded of me. As if I needed a constant reminder of him and the hell he’d put me through within those walls. I jumped into my old Toyota, not the car Reid had bought me which wasn't truly mine. This was the car I'd worked hard to achieve, on my own, without him. I looked at the dreamcatcher Jude Finn had bought me that I’d hung on my rear-view mirror to remind me of all the reasons I should never fall in love again. It had been years since I’d thought of him. Within a few months of last seeing him, my Toyota was parked in the garage, and I was driving a Mercedes Benz C-Class.
I decided to pay my dear mother a visit. I wanted to tell her off for the mess she’d made of her life and the resulting effect that had on mine. If she hadn't been a bitch, my Dad would not have left that day. If she hadn't been a bitch, I wouldn't have met Reid. If she hadn't been a bitch, I wouldn't have lost my daughter. She tried to talk to me at the courthouse, but there was nothing left to say, not to her or to anyone.
She picked up on the first ring.
“Sarah,” I slurred as the rain pelted down around me.
"Tara, is that you?"
“Yes!” I shouted at her.
"Where are you?" she sounded frantic, but it could just be the rain distorting our voices.
‘I’m coming to see you,” I tell her.
“Of course, honey,” she says, “but can I come and get you, where are you?”
“I will drive there.” She lived in the middle of nowhere now, and the drive there was shit. At least I had a bottle of wine to keep me company.
“I can get you, okay?”
I cut the call and sat in my car, the sky darkening and the rain was getting heavier. The barman wouldn't be letting me back in there anytime soon, and the fact that I was now a soaking mess wouldn't help my case.
I started to pull out onto the road, driving through the familiar streets. The bar was one I had frequented a lot during the last few months. My phone buzzed next to me, but all I could see was Becca's sad face. She was at an age where her mother was her world, we did everything together when I wasn't shit faced. I realized that I was as much to blame in this situation as Reid was. I let his affairs and abuse push me over the edge because I was too cowardly to seek another way out. The numbness was therapeutic. I didn't have to think about or feel the pressure on my chest. I could just float away into oblivion where no lousy thing could touch me.
Becca had begun to slip away. She was building a relationship with Tiffany, and I didn't blame her. Tiffany was the kind of mother I used to be when Becca was little. The kind that was attentive and did all the things mothers should do. I was glad she had her because I was useless. My business was crumbling around me, clients were complaining about the shoddy job I did on their manuscripts, opting to go with other, more focused editors. Like Stephen King said, “write drunk, edit sober”.
