“I believed him. I believed that he was just as fucking complete as I was. Boy, was I wrong.” She shakes her head, standing in the middle of the huge room. I finally see her with the moonlight streaming in, and her face is fuller. It isn’t sunken in. Her eyes, even though she has been crying, are different.
“When was the last time you looked in the mirror?” I ask her, the question surprising her.
She opens her hands in front of her. “I have no idea.”
“Well, I suggest you do,” I tell her, standing up. “I saw you less than a month ago, and you’ve changed.” She looks at me, not understanding, so I grab her hand in mine. Our fingers fit almost perfectly. I push aside the feeling of her hand in mine and bring her to the kitchen with its sunny paint. I turn on the light and look around. “It was dead before,” I tell her. “The walls were white and dead, and now it’s sunny and full of life.” I release her hand and turn around. “This is your sunshine; you did this, and you did it for your girls.” I take a picture of the three of them with yellow paint on their hands off the fridge. “Look at the girls. You did that, not Eric.” I don’t stop there. I grab her hand and lead her back into the living room. “This,” I tell her, “you’re living, you’re doing what he isn’t. You’re fucking living, and you’re doing it, telling him to fuck off. You’re doing it for your girls; don’t let him win that. Not again.”
She looks at me after she looks around. “You made a home for your girls; you gave them this. Not him. So it doesn’t matter what he says, it doesn’t matter if you made him or that Hailey completed him because, in the end, you complete those little girls, and it’s so much better than him.” She nods her head like she finally gets it.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, smiling. “You came all this way.”
“I figured I could see up close how bad the seafoam green is.” I smile at her, and she finally laughs.
“It’s really fucking bad,” she says. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me to the bathroom. She wasn’t lying; it’s horrible.
“Let me make some coffee,” she says, leading me back to the kitchen. She makes a cup of coffee, giving me the cup she once sent me a picture of. I sit here for the second time in my life, but this time, it’s different. This time, I’m not here for Hailey; I’m here for Samantha and only her. She sits next to me with something in her hand. “I need to choose a color for my bedroom,” she says, and for the next hour, we laugh over paint shades while she checks Pinterest for ideas. For two hours, we do nothing but talk about her bedroom, not one of us bringing up Eric. When I finally walk out of the house and head to my truck, I wave back at her. As I pull off, the phone rings, and the Bluetooth picks it up.
“Hello?” I say.
Her voice comes out softly. “I figured you could use some friendly conversation while you drive home,” she says with amusement.
For the next two hours and a half, she tells me stories of what a horrible cook she is. How she once made meatloaf, but it was so soppy it looked like meat soup. I laugh as I tell her stories about the recipes that I do know, which aren’t much. When I finally pull up to my house, it’s almost five a.m. “Are you going to go to bed now?” I ask her.
“No,” she tells me. “I think I’m going to make a big breakfast, and then when the kids leave, I’ll go to bed.” She yawns.
“Okay, call me when you wake up,” I say, getting out of my truck and disconnecting. I take off my shoes, fall on my bed, and sleep for six hours straight. Getting up when the alarm rings, I walk to the coffeemaker, pour a cup, and drink it with my eyes almost shut. After taking a shower, I head to my truck and drive over to my parents’ house.
I knock on the door then walk in and see my mother in the kitchen, taking out an apple pie from the oven. “Guess I’m here right on time,” I tell her. I kiss her cheek and grab the coffeepot to pour myself a cup.
“You look tired,” my mother says, putting down the oven mitts.
“Yeah, I had a rough night,” I tell her and don’t go into more detail.
“Anything you want to talk about?” she asks me, and I just shake my head. “Well, you know that if you need to talk about anything, I’ll be here.”
“I know, Mom.” I smile at her. “Where is Dad?” I ask, looking around.
“He’s in the shed already,” she tells me, so I walk out to the backyard. Going into the shed, I hear him curse. Through the open door, I see him trying to get a shelf to stay in place.
“Guess I came at the right time,” I tell him from the doorway as I hold up one side while he tries to nail the other side. I grab the hammer from him and push him aside so I can nail it in and it doesn’t fall on his head. We spend two hours putting up shelves and fixing the one shelf he put up crooked.
When we finally finish, he looks over at me. “There is a reason I went into law.” He smiles. “Because I fucking hate this shit.” He takes off the gloves he has on to prevent getting a splinter in his hands. “You look weird,” he says to me. “Something is off.”
I shake my head. “Nothing is off with me.”
“It’s in your eyes,” he tells me, and I look down at my feet, not sure what the fuck is in my eyes. He doesn’t say anything; he just walks out, and I follow him.
When we walk in, Mom has lunch ready for us. “Your sister is in love with the beach,” she starts telling me while I take a bite of the sandwich she made for me.
“I heard from Crystal that it’s going well,” I tell them. “Looks like everyone involved is finally moving on.” I don’t catch the words before they slip out, and I know for a fact my father caught it, but he doesn’t say anything when I look up at him. He just gives me a sideways look and then looks to see if my mother noticed. She didn’t, so I take another bite and pay more attention to every single word that comes out.
I finally leave after Mom wraps half the apple pie up for me. I pick up my phone that I left in the truck and see that Samantha sent me a text.
Did I dream that you came here?
Chapter Seventeen
Samantha
I roll over to check the time, and it’s almost time to go get the girls. I get out of bed, dragging my legs to the bathroom. The shower only wakes me halfway. Going downstairs, I find the mess I left after breakfast, and I smile when I see the two coffee cups in the sink. He really came here. He really showed up for me. I grab my phone and text him
Did I dream that you came here?
I put my phone on the counter as I load the dishwasher and take some chicken out for dinner. I walk to the bus and am greeted by the girls and their big smiles when they walk off the bus.
“Mommy,” Daisy says as she runs to me, arms outstretched. “You feel better?” she asks when I gather her in my arms, kissing her nose.
“Yes, I feel all better,” I tell her, holding my arm out for Lizzie to join us. I pull her to my side and kiss her head as we talk about their day at school. We come into the house, and everyone starts their task, as I call it. Lizzie sits at the table and takes her homework out, something she’s started doing lately. Usually, she would do it in her room. Daisy sits next to her, and Lizzie helps Daisy with her homework too.
I start dinner, putting the chicken in the oven while I make rice. “Did you guys want corn or peas on the side?” I ask them as I look inside the freezer, swaying to the music in my head.
I glance over my shoulder at the girls and see Lizzie smiling at me, shrugging her shoulders. “Either is good.” She turns back to her homework. Daisy doesn’t have a preference either.
Lizzie sets the table while Daisy puts the forks on the table and the glasses. When we sit down to eat, I look at them. “This weekend, how about we go to the park, and I can take some new pictures of you two to hang in the living room?” I wait to see if one of them will say something or notice. “I think two pictures of you guys hanging on the big wall will look so nice.”
Lizzie looks up at me. “Yeah.” She then looks at Daisy. “We could wear matching outf
its and then we can even do one together to hang in the middle.”
“That sounds like a plan,” I say, smiling, and we finish eating while Daisy talks about what she wants to wear. I tuck Daisy into bed, then head to Lizzie’s room last.
“Goodnight, love.” I bend to kiss her head.
“I’m glad you’re not sad anymore,” she says. “I didn’t like yesterday. I didn’t like you crying.”
“I know, baby, and I’m sorry.” I sit on the bed. “It was just a bad day.”
She nods at me, then sits up next to me. “I’m sorry you were sad,” she says, hugging my neck. I kiss her and tuck her in. As soon as I get into bed, my phone rings.
“If you tell me to open the door, I’ll really think I dreamed it.” I laugh, and I hear his laughter in return.
“Nope, I’m tucked into bed,” he says, and I wonder what his house looks like. I wonder if it’s your typical bachelor pad. Does he have pictures on the wall? Is there a picture of Frankie by his bed?
“Tired?” I ask him as he yawns. “What did you do today?”
“I helped my father hang shelves in his shed.” He laughs. “It’s a good thing he’s a lawyer because I swear the shelf was leaning with one side a good one inch lower.” I laugh at how he describes the shelf and how when he put something on it, it literally slid down to the other side.
I laugh the whole time, my cheeks hurting from the story of his father almost smashing the piece. “I’m taking the kids to the park tomorrow,” I tell him. “We are going to take pictures to hang in the living room.”
“Really?” he says, and I hear the blanket rustling in the background while he probably flips over. “Well, that’s a step in the right direction.”
“Yeah,” I say. “They didn’t even ask where we will put the other picture.”
“What are you going to do with it?” he asks me.
“I might just store it in the attic or ask maybe my in-laws if they want it.” I take a deep breath. “Do you still have pictures of Frankie?”
“Yup,” he says. “Right next to my bed is a picture of the two of us a week before she found out she was sick.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect.” I smile for him. “Is that the only one you have?”
“Yes,” he finally says. “I used to have them all over the house, but one by one, they came down. I don’t need a picture for her to be part of this house.”
“I never thought of that,” I tell him, and it’s true. “So besides saving your father from a nervous breakdown, what did you do?”
“I went to the cemetery,” he says, and a tear slips out of my eye.
“Do you go there often?” I ask him, realizing I haven’t been since Eric passed away.
“Every week,” he says with a heavy breath. “Sometimes twice a week.”
“Do you feel closer to her when you go?” I ask him.
“Sometimes. Sometimes, I swear I hear her bitch and tell me to leave and fuck off.” He laughs, but I don’t.
“I doubt that,” I say softly. “I’m going to go to bed.”
“What is one thing you would change?” he asks me for the first time.
“Not calling you sooner,” I say. I’m not sure he answers or that I let him because I hang up the phone and tuck it away. My phone beeps, but I don’t reach for it even though my hands itch to. Last night while I sat on his lap, I itched to reach out and feel his cheek, wondering if his whiskers would pinch my hands, wondering if he would smile when I did it. I wondered if he would stop me; I wondered if he would picture Frankie.
I close my eyes, not sure I want to wonder anymore. That night, I dreamed of sitting on the beach, but this time, I was by myself when someone I’d never met walked by. She was stunning, her long, dark curly hair being pushed back by the wind. She raised a hand to wave at me as she placed her hands to her mouth and yelled, “Go to him.” I remember getting up and walking to her, but she disappeared as soon as I got close to her. I ran down the beach after her or what I thought was her, but then I came face-to-face with Hailey, sitting on the beach with tears running down her face.
Walking to her, I sat next to her, not sure if I should say anything, when she said, “I just want to be happy.” I looked back at the water, then turned to look back at her, but she wasn’t there anymore. My eyes flip open as the sun hits my face. I roll over in bed, looking outside. Daisy comes into my room and climbs into bed with me.
“I had a nightmare,” she says as I raise my hand for her to come to me, and I cuddle her to my chest.
“It’s okay. Mommy is here.” I kiss her as her soft snores fill the room. I smile as her hair tickles my chin and fall back asleep with her. Lizzie climbs into bed with us sometime later, and we end up watching Tangled in my bed till their stomachs grumble.
I go back downstairs, and we make plans to go to the park. The girls are dressed in pink skirts and white shirts. We walk to the park with my camera bag over my shoulder and the girls skipping in front of me. My phone beeps in the back of my pocket. I still haven’t checked it from last night.
I pull it out and find a text from Elliot.
Wanted to see if the girls were free to go to my parents’ house.
I roll my eyes and call him instead.
“Hey,” I say when he answers. “What’s up?”
“My mom was wondering if the girls could come over for dinner.”
“Just the girls?” I ask, and my heart hurts again, but this time, not that much.
He stutters, not sure what to say, so I let him off the hook. “It’s fine. Listen, we are on our way to the park to take pictures, so I’ll ask them and get back with you.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I just assumed you wouldn’t want to come.”
“It’s fine,” I say, “I get it.”
I don’t let him continue; instead, I hang up and ask the girls. Daisy is happy while Lizzie looks at the grass, asking, “Are you coming with us?”
“No, honey,” I tell her. “I’m going to stay at home and relax.” I lie to her as she looks at the ground.
“Okay, but not for long,” she says, and I text Elliot back.
The girls said they would go.
He answers back.
Thanks.
And I wait for him to invite me, tell me that it would be good to have a family dinner, but nothing comes through. I see the message from Blake with his answer.
I would have come for you sooner.
I smile, putting my phone in my back pocket. Two totally different families, one who supports and loves unconditionally and the other who loves only when it suits them.
I take about two hundred pictures of the girls just enjoying themselves. Lizzie takes a couple of shots of me doing a cartwheel and laughing when I land on my ass. I get the girls home, and they go to change. When the doorbell rings, I open the door and see Elliot there.
“Hey,” I tell him, moving out of his way so he can come in. “The girls are upstairs changing. Actually, can you come and help me?” I ask him, and he just nods. I walk up the stairs to the bedroom and point at the two bins in the corner. “Those are Eric’s. I didn’t know if you or Ethan would want any of them.”
“Wow,” he says, whistling, “you’re really trying to erase him.”
I stop dead in my tracks and turn around. “Excuse me?” I say, folding my arms over my chest.
“I thought Mom was exaggerating when she kept saying you’re trying to erase him from the house. With the new paint, the picture of him down in the living room. His clothes packed. I guess she wasn’t wrong.”
I don’t bother to answer him. I walk to the bedroom door, closing it and locking it. I walk to my dresser, and reaching under my clothes, I take out the brown envelope while Elliot looks at me. I open the envelope and notice a white one I didn’t see before, but I push it aside and take out the letter he wrote to me. “Here.” I shove it at Elliot, his eyes going big and his arms not moving. “Oh, don’t you even fucking dare. This is a letter I fo
und while cleaning out his clothes. A last letter from him.” Elliot’s face goes ash white. “Oh, wait, it only gets better. He made sure to include a picture of him on his wedding day to the woman who ‘completes him.’”
He doesn’t move, and I don’t care. “Wait, I believe his words were ‘I made him, but she completed him.’” I hold the picture up. “Would you like to see the happy couple?”
“That’s enough,” he says between clenched teeth.
“No!” I shout, “what’s enough is you guys thinking I’m trying to erase him. It’s called living. I’m fucking living.” I raise my hands. “I have no choice because I have two girls who need me to live.” I cross my arms now. “This is the last time we have this conversation. This is the last time you guys get to throw anything in my face. I didn’t do anything wrong; Eric did.” I take a deep breath. “I won’t have you guys making me feel like I did something wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” he says as he looks at the picture in my hand. “Can I have the picture?”
“No,” I tell him, putting it back in the envelope. “And if you want to read the letter, you can, but it doesn’t leave my room.”
“Mom.” I hear Daisy knocking on the door. “The door is locked.” I walk to it and open it.
“Sorry, it must have been stuck,” I tell her. “Look who came, Uncle Elliot.”
“Uncle E!” She runs to him. “We are putting new pictures up,” she tells him after he throws her up and kisses her. Lizzie comes in, looking at the both of us.
“I don’t want to go for long,” she tells Elliot, who looks at her and then at me. “I have a book report due, and I want to finish it today so I don’t have to do it tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he says, buying her excuse. “Let me load these bins in the car and then we can go.”
I watch him carry the bins downstairs, and then I kiss the kids goodbye, waving at them from the door. I take my phone out when I can’t see the taillights of his car anymore and send Blake a text.
Want to FaceTime me and have coffee?
Broken Love Story Page 10