I’m sorry I won’t be there to watch you flourish into the remarkable woman I know you are. I’m sorry I won’t get to help you defeat your demons and tell you that you are better than you think you are. Most of all, I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t the mother you deserved.
My hold tightens on the letter as I turn away wiping my tears, not wanting the ink to fade. How could she think she wasn’t enough? She was everything I needed…and more.
You might not understand that, so let me explain. I knew your father was cheating, and I knew he made you hide it from me. You’ll understand one day, but a woman always knows when she isn’t her husband’s priority anymore–when she isn’t the reason he gets up every morning. I should have left him and taken you with me the day he hit me. I should have shown you that you deserve to be treated like you are the rarest creature on Earth.
I watched you over the years harden yourself to those around you. I watched as hate grew in your eyes for the man who was supposed love and cherish you. I’m sorry for that. And I want you to know that I love you for trying to protect me from his actions. You were so young and shouldn’t have had to deal with that burden.
I also know he left, even though you didn’t tell me. I know because I told him to leave. I told him not to come back to the hospital. I told him to stop being your burden. I hope you forgive me for that. I know he’s your father, but you don’t need him weighing you down, and should you decide you want him around, I will not fault you. After all, he is your dad.
I gasp, not believing what she did. She was strong enough to send Dad away when I wasn’t. I should have told him to leave, but I thought she wanted him there. Turns out, neither of us needed him.
In my death, there is one thing I want from you–one thing I want you to do for me. Live, Jade. I want you to have a life, not keep going like you have been. I want you to love and have a career. I want you to have friends and be happy because it’s been so long since I’ve seen you smile. So long since I’ve seen you care about anything besides me. I think Hudson might be it for you. The one to show you something more–to make you come to terms with the fact that you need more than what you’ve been giving yourself.
I discard the first page, placing it on the couch beside me when her words run out. I continue reading the next page, clenching my jaw to keep from folding in on myself.
I’m sure you’ve seen the papers in this envelope, and you’re probably wondering how I managed to pay for a life insurance policy when we struggled to keep afloat most months. It doesn’t matter. I knew I needed to take care of you anyway I could, and this is the only way I knew how. All that matters is I know you’ll be okay now that I’m gone.
I know you think I gave up on you by refusing surgery, but I didn’t. I died so you could live. I said I knew what my purpose was the day you were born. My purpose was to make sure you had everything you could imagine and everything you deserved. This is the way it was meant to be. This is me giving you your life back.
I love you more than you will ever know.
Mom.
Be free from the chains that have bound you in this life.
P.S. Your Dad doesn’t know about the insurance policy, so he won’t come looking for a hand out from you.
I sniff, keeping my nose from running as tears stream down my face. My body shakes with each sob, and as much as I want to stop crying, I can’t.
I place her note to the side, revealing one of my drawings. I pause, shaking my head in disbelief. It’s the drawing I never showed her. The one that won me a scholarship for college. The one I never let her see, but somehow, she found it.
The theme was to draw something that inspires you, something that drives you. So I drew the one thing I’d admired above all else. Her. I drew my mom, catching every detail of her face. Each line and the sparkle in her eyes that never dimmed with her brown hair, long and thick, framing her face. She was always my hero, and she always will be.
I pick up the stack of papers and skim through them, but I stop when I reach her insurance policy. A policy worth $900,000.
My mouth drops open as I stare at the number, blinking my eyes several times, making sure I’m seeing correctly.
This is me giving you your life back.
I drop the papers and curl up on the couch, crying.
She gave up everything for me, including her life. She thought she was doing it for me. She thought she could give me something in her death. But I’m starting to think I wasn’t worth her life. Because if I’m being honest I’d rather have her alive and well, instead of buried ten feet under the ground. I’d rather have her arms wrapped around me. I’d rather hear the sound of her voice. Instead, I’m crying on the couch alone–unworthy of her sacrifice.
I’ve been standing in the doorway with a box in each hand for the last thirty minutes, tiptoeing on the threshold but not allowing myself to fully enter.
I’ve been avoiding my mom’s room since she left me a month ago, not wanting to deal with the heartache that I know will beat me down as soon as I begin rummaging through her belongings. To my dismay, I have to sort through her things and decide what goes and what I want to hold on to as a reminder of her.
But this is a step I have to take. I have to do this to move forward, to let her go. I’m tired of putting it off, of it looming over me like some kind of bad omen.
Inhaling a deep breath, I step over the line I’ve been teetering and enter her room, engulfed by her scent, reminding me of the icing on a red velvet cake.
I drop the two boxes in each of my hands, placing them on her bed. One box for donation and one for me, to shove in the closet and bring out whenever I need something tangible that was hers.
I start at her dresser, clearing the necklaces and bracelets she hadn’t worn in ages, placing all of it in the donation box. I lift her still full perfume bottle to my nose, inhaling the familiar sweet aroma, knowing this is as close as I’ll get to feeling like she’s in the same room as me. Keep, definitely keeping this.
I spend the next couple of hours sorting through her clothes and pictures, but in the end, I need another box, so I stop, taking a deep breath and allowing myself to be satisfied that I accomplished as much as I did.
I vacate her room with the boxes, not closing the door behind me, not shutting myself off from her like I have been since she died.
She died. It’s odd that people avoid the word died like it’s poison. They always say passed away. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry she passed away.’ Let’s just call it like it is–death. It’s not a dirty word. It happens every day, whether we like it or not. You can’t run from it, and you can’t hide from it.
My mom died. I like to think she’s in a better place. Heaven, afterlife, wherever she ended up I know she’s not in pain anymore. I know her body isn’t suffering, and I know she’s better off because the life she was living wasn’t really a life. She was existing in a place she thought she belonged, only allowing herself what she believed she deserved. But she didn’t deserve it. The pain, the heartache, the way my dad treated her.
She deserved more. Something more than what this life could give her, more than what I could give her, so I’m taking stock in knowing she no longer has to deal with what she had, now I choose to believe she has so much more.
I place the two boxes on the floor next to the couch, and I plop down on the hard cushion. I scan the small trailer, seeing Mom’s letter on the kitchen counter where I left it.
I sigh, letting my head fall to the back of the couch.
Her letter tore me apart, took my insides and ripped them out of my body. It took me a while to come to terms with what she did. Obviously, I don’t agree with her reasons for choosing to die, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. So I have to accept it and move on, and I’m trying…I really am. But all of this is harder than I ever thought it would be.
I pinch my eyes closed.
I need to live.
I need to move on.
I need to do it for her–to honor the woman who sacrificed everything for me, but mostly, I need to do it for me.
I cross my arms, propping my hip against the car I’m supposed to be working on, but my heart isn’t in it. I don’t want to be here. This is the last place I was before Mom died, and I feel like it’s one giant reminder of her death–just like the check I have at home.
I received the check for Mom’s life insurance three days ago, and it’s been sitting on the couch ever since. Every time I see it, I want nothing more than to tear it to shreds, hating everything it represents.
“Jade, what are you going?” Harry grunts, walking out of his office, but I don’t acknowledge him–not a glance, not a word.
My eyes skirt across the shop. It reminds me too much of my dad. He taught me how to change the oil on a car. He taught me how to repair a broken air conditioner. He taught me everything I know about cars, and I really don’t want the reminder of a man who abandoned me.
“Jade,” Harry huffs.
I shake my head as I look at him. “I need to leave; I can’t be here,” I mumble to myself.
“What was that?” he asks, taking a step forward.
I drop my hands to my sides and straighten my shoulders. “I quit.” I breathe a sigh of relief as the words wash over me.
“You what?”
“I quit.” I push away from the car and walk around Harry.
He doesn’t say anything as I exit the garage for the last time.
I inhale the fresh air and smile, knowing I’m doing the right thing. I’m taking a step in the right direction, leaving the things I hate behind.
I grab my bike from the side of the building and hop on, but before I can get away from the garage, Joey comes running outside.
He stops in front of me, smiling from ear to ear. “Good luck, Jade.”
I nod my head, grinning right back at him. “You too, Joey.”
Without looking back, I leave, my chest lighter and movements easier.
The wind whips my long hair behind me, and I bask in the way the sun beats down on me, shining a light over me.
Kristy slams down a napkin on the bar between my hands. She draws her hand away from the napkin revealing an address written in blue ink pen that’s beginning to bleed since a bead of water is soaking through it. I pick it up off the counter and look at her, my eyebrows crinkled.
“Four days. Be there,” she demands, a hard look in her eyes, warning me not to argue with her.
“And where is here exactly?” I ask, shaking the napkin to ensure no more of the address fades due to the water invading the ink.
“Wedding.”
“Wedding?” I try not to sound surprised by her omission, but I know she heard it from the death glare she’s throwing me. “I thought that wasn’t happening for a while.”
She pouts, not something someone who’s getting married tomorrow would normally do. “I’m compromising, okay? Give and take. Apparently, that’s what people in a relationship do.”
“Okay.” I shove the napkin in my shorts pocket and wipe down the bar.
She sighs, looking at me pointedly. “I need you there.” She moves closer to me. “And you need to start living again.”
I give her a small smile, discarding the dirty rag behind me. She’s right, and she wouldn’t be Kristy if she didn’t demand me to move on. I don’t blame her, though, because it’s been over a month. “I wouldn’t miss it,” I assure her.
“Quick, simple, easy,” she says. I’m not sure if she’s trying to reassure me or herself.
“Is this what you want?”
She tilts her head, glancing off to the side, evading my eyes. “Yes.” She finally looks at me. “I want to marry Jason.” She beams. “Plus, this means I can get a head start on torturing him for the rest of our lives.”
“Don’t you already do that?” I chuckle, and Kristy’s eyes widen at the sound.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed. My lips curl up as my hand grazes my neck.
She shrugs. “Yeah, but I’ll step it up a notch as soon as we both say, ‘I do.’”
She walks away, heading toward Monica, who is attempting to balance ten drinks on one tray. Kristy takes two drinks in each hand, lightening Monica’s load as she sets the tray down on a vacant table.
I get back to filling drinks and putting clean glasses away, but it isn’t long before every hair on my arms stands on end, my body coming alive with awareness while my back is turned away from the front door.
I peek over my shoulder, my eyes landing on what my body already knew–that Hudson had traipsed through the door. It’s funny how one person can ignite something in you that no one else ever has–passion, exhilaration, ambition.
He somehow managed to flip a switch in me–a switch I had long forgotten about. He turned me on to living. Isn’t that weird? Somehow, I forgot to live–for me. I forgot what I wanted and needed and simply lived for my mom, until he came around. Then I remembered, and all those things came flooding back. I realized I wanted more–to be more, to do more.
Funny thing is that I have yet to do more. But what I have done is push him away, shove him into a box in my mind and tried to forget about him because let’s be honest, there is no way I’m ever forgetting him. Because he brought me to life when I was merely floating through every day like a ghost, lost in time.
As he stalks toward me, I want to give in to him again–to let us become something more than teetering on the edge of a beautiful relationship, ready to blossom into a lifetime of memories if only given the chance.
I’ve never been good at taking a leap of faith. I’ve always been the girl who saw life for what it was–disappointing. I think it might be time to finally jump and enjoy the fall, hoping I land among the clouds.
Mom wanted me to have a life, and I can see something more with Hudson in the future. I just have to push myself off the ledge.
He weaves through the tables, keeping his eyes trained on me the entire time. I feel it–his gaze. His eyes boring holes into me as he holds me in place, not allowing me to move until he sits on the barstool directly behind me. He raises his eyebrows, and I finally turn around and take a cautious step toward him.
“What can I get you?” I ask, my eyes still trained on his.
“Water,” he answers, and I find myself savoring the sound of his voice. I forgot how much I love the sweet sound–smooth as honey and addicting.
I fill a cup with water and slide it to him. “Ever gonna tell me why you only ever order water at a bar?” I let my hair fall forward, cascading around my face.
“Easy.” He leans forward, invading my space, and my attention flicks to his lips briefly before moving back to his eyes. “The night Chris’s mom got pregnant, I was drunk. I realized I only make stupid decisions when I drink, so I stopped. Plus, I don’t feel comfortable drinking with Chris around. I need to be at 100 percent in case he needs me.”
“I get it,” I say easily.
I understand because sacrifice comes easy for me.
“Does that mean you’re going to start charging me now that you know I’ll never order anything else?” His lips tip up in to an easy smile.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve paid every time you’ve been here even when I told you not to.” I laugh under my breath.
His eyebrows raise as his eyes soften. “You’re right.” He chuckles, taking a gulp of his water, licking his lips when he sets the glass back down on the bar. He clears his throat, and says, “I needed to see you. I couldn’t keep myself away any longer.”
Space. I’m not so sure I need it anymore, but I don’t tell him on the off-chance I decide I still do. “I’m glad you’re here.”
But I have to wonder if he’ll still be waiting when I’m ready to infiltrate his life again. How long can someone who loves you sit by before they give up on you? How long will it take him to think I’m a lost cause?
Kristy materializes
next to me and throws her arm around my shoulder. “Look who showed up. The man who has turned our Jade here into a new woman.” I groan, wanting to shrink away or at least run and hide as my cheeks flame.
“Nah, I just made her realize her full potential. I was just along for the ride.”
I trap my bottom lip between my teeth as my eyes track over his brown hair and gorgeous face. He did bring me to life when I felt like all hope was lost, and he fell in love with a girl who was at her lowest.
Love…there’s that word again.
He scans my face, and I can see the love he’s hiding from me. I rejected him, walked away. But what he doesn’t know is how deep I’ve had to bury my feelings for him while I chipped away at the mountain that loomed over me. Now that it’s almost gone, everything I felt for him before is starting to bubble to the surface.
“You comin’ Saturday?” Kristy directs her question to Hudson, and I land my elbow in her side. “What?” she hisses.
“I’m afraid I’m not in the loop on whatever is taking place Saturday, but I think I’ll pass.”
“Your loss.” She saunters away, clearing a few tables that were just vacated, and my body sighs with relief, grateful she’s not here to cause me further embarrassment.
With only a few customers left in the bar, I walk around and sit on the stool next to Hudson, giving my feet a rest. “She’s getting married Saturday.” I answer his unvoiced question.
His eyebrows crease as he glances over at Kristy, who is aggressively wiping down a table. “Really? Never would have guessed.”
I shrug, not knowing how to explain Kristy to him. She’s a mystery, even to me.
“How have you been?” he asks, grasping a strand of my hair before dropping his hand like he didn’t mean to touch me.
It’s my fault he feels that way. I threw up a thousand barriers between us, and now we don’t know how to act around each other.
I bob my head. “Better.” It’s the truth.
“Good.”
I twine my hands in my lap to keep them to myself. “I, uh, don’t think I ever told you, but my lawyer got the charges against me dropped.”
The Truth About Falling Page 24