Authors: Erica Cope
Chapter 18
I thought that I would enjoy the time away from school, but honestly, I miss my life there more than I anticipated. My weekly 'girls night' with Olivia watching her swoon over her latest celebrity crush while eating a gallon of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream, and study nights with Holden while he attempts to explain biology in simple enough terms for my feeble brain to comprehend have become my new normal. I know that I'll only be gone for a few days but it feels weird being so far away from them.
My room looks completely different now than it did a couple of years ago. The pink walls now show no sign of the life I once lived. I thought by removing the pictures and other things that reminded me of him it would be easier. But it didn't matter, Sean was still there, like he had been engraved on the back of my eyeballs—I still saw him everywhere I looked.
It doesn't feel quite so dramatic now. Because even though I still think about Sean every day, looking at the empty walls in my room now makes me sad for another reason. I realize that I had been so wrapped up in him, that I didn't have anything left of myself after he was gone.
I consider for a moment asking my parents if I can redecorate my room and just start fresh. But after giving it some thought, I guess it doesn't really matter now if this room
feels
like me or not. I'll only be staying here for holidays and breaks. This isn't really my home anymore.
The rest of the house hasn't changed much. The old farmhouse probably hasn't changed in the last thirty years. My dad had built it himself right out of high school and he and my mom married as soon as she finished her degree. I never understood why she left this middle-of-nowhere town only to return six years later with a Master's degree. But she did. She loved my father that much. She opened her own practice and I guess small towns need therapists just as much as anyone because her business has been very successful through the years. I guess it worked out.
I've become so accustomed to the carpet in my apartment that I had forgotten what it feels like to step out of a nice warm bed onto hardwood floors without socks on. The icy oak floorboards send a shock through my system. I find my slippers quickly and pull them on before heading downstairs for coffee.
My mom is already cooking breakfast—professional working woman or not, she still does all the cooking and cleaning. I guess it balances out with all the work Dad does on the farm. But she is definitely Super Mom by definition.
Her office is actually located here in the house. A spare bedroom was converted in the back and is complete with its own separate entrance from the main house. I was never allowed to venture into that part of the house for confidentiality purposes but I was sneaky and figured out early that if I hung out in my tree house in the back yard I could see who was coming and going. I never said a word but I definitely knew who the crazies were in town.
In between scrambling eggs and flipping pancakes my mom is writing a list. She makes a list for everything. Grocery lists. To-do Lists. Christmas shopping lists. She writes down everything.
“I started you a pot of coffee,” she says without even looking up. She scoops some eggs and pancakes on a plate and sets it in front me. “Your father ate early but he says he'll see you at lunch unless you want to meet him in the fields before then.
“Mmm,” I mumble. It's early and I'm still half-asleep. I'll be more polite after my first cup; I might even actually have a conversation with her after my second.
“What are your plans today?” she asks me, still not looking up from her list. Apparently in my absence over the last five months she has forgotten the 'do not speak to Aria before coffee' rule.
I sip my coffee slowly, inhaling the fragrant aroma in between in hopes of jump starting my sluggish brain and speeding up the waking up process.
“Aria?” she asks when I still haven't answered her. “Are you ignoring me?”
“No. Sorry. Still waking up.”
“What are your plans for the day?”
“I don't really have any.”
“Do you mind doing the grocery shopping for me today?”
I cringe at the thought.
“I know it will be crowded but I have an emergency session this morning. I don't need much. Just a few small things. It will all fit easily in the front basket on your bike.”
There goes my last possible excuse to get out of it. “Fine,” I reluctantly grumble.
“Thanks Sweetheart. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency. I'm expecting him here any moment. The holidays are always especially hard on everyone's mental health.” She sighs thoughtfully. “How are you holding up so far?”
Of course she would bring up Sean. It would be bad enough if I had already drank the whole damn pot of coffee. But before I even finish my first cup? That's just unnecessarily cruel.
“I'm fine, Mom.” I give her my standard go-to answer for whenever she starts pestering me about my feelings.
“Remember, it's important during stressful times like the holiday season to surround yourself with a strong support group,” she says in her classic therapy voice.
“Yeah, I know. I'm fine. Really. There's not going to be a repeat of last year.”
Gah, I cringe at the memory of this time last year. At that point I was still locking myself in my room for days at a time, not eating or drinking or speaking or even looking at anyone or anything that reminded me of Sean. Every time I thought of him I would break down and fall to pieces and because I was stuck in this house I was reminded of him constantly.
Last Thanksgiving was particularly hard. I started off having a 'good' week as my mother liked to say when referring to the brief periods of time that I functioned semi-normally. But my heartache and pain were still bitingly fresh just beneath the surface, so when his parents showed up at our house for dinner I just lost it. I couldn't bear to look them in the eye, knowing that my stupid mistake killed their son.
“I hope not.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I would really like to extend the invitation to the Matthews' again this year. You know they have no other family and for the longest time we were all that they had. I would never do anything to put you in the same position that you were last year so if you don't want me to, I won't. But I feel like I should tell you that I would like to.”
Am I ready to see them again? Probably not. But did I want to deal with the guilt of knowing that because of my weakness that I would be, yet again, the cause of their continued unhappiness? No. I don’t want to feel like that anymore.
My mom is right, we are the only family they have and I love them as my own. The only question is, can my heart handle seeing their familiar faces knowing that I'm the cause of the sadness in their eyes?
“Can I think about it?”
I catch the disappointment in her eyes and I hate that I'm the one who put it there despite how unfair I think it is that she is putting this on my shoulders.
“Yes of course,” she says. “Here's the list. I'll be in the office until noon. Chicken salad okay for lunch?”
“Yeah, sure, that's fine.”
“Alright then.”
“Mom?” I stop her before she leaves the kitchen. “I don't think I'm ready just yet. To see them.”
“Okay honey, we can wait until you are. But I want you to really think about
why
you aren't ready yet.” She smiles sadly at me before leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I take my cup of coffee back up to my room. I pull my desk chair over to the large window overlooking the front yard and curl my knees up to my chest as I sit, cupping the steaming mug tightly with both hands in an attempt to warm the chill that seems to be penetrating my core.
I know I will eventually need to talk to Sean’s mom. I'm just not sure when I'll be ready. I love that woman like a second mother. Whenever my mom became over-bearing, I knew I could always turn to Mrs. Matthews.
What if she hates me? I wouldn't blame her if she did, but that doesn't mean I'm strong enough to bear the way she would look at me.
I get out my phone and send a group text out to Olivia, Holden, Beck and even Mason.
Me: Happy Thanksgiving
Olivia is the first to reply.
Olivia: Come back now! I need you!
Me: What happened?
Olivia: Nothing, I'm just bored. :P
I laugh and my phone goes off again. This time it's Holden.
Holden: Happy Thanksgiving, Smalls. Miss ya.
Sitting here alone in my old bedroom, surrounded by blank walls and empty picture frames, I find that I actually kind of miss him too.
Four cups of coffee later, I am awake enough to shower and get dressed for the day. I pull on jeans, boots and a flannel shirt and grab my coat from the closet in the foyer.
The grocery store is packed full with other shoppers picking up last minute ingredients for tomorrow’s Thanksgiving feasts. Mom's list is organized by aisle so I'm in and out quickly. She was right; everything was able to fit easily in the basket on my bike. I quickly pedal home, relieved that I didn't run in to any old friends or acquaintances. That’s a rare occurrence in a town this small, but I'm not going to complain about it.
I check the time after I finish putting everything away. I was gone less than an hour. My dad should be making his way back to the house for lunch but if I hurry I might catch him half way and have a moment or two alone with him.
Sure enough, I find him tending to the cows. He's a large man, not quite as tall as Holden but much wider—I believe 'stocky' is the word. He's completely gray even though he's only in his fifties and has a receding hairline.
“Hey there Sweetheart,” he says as he pulls me in for a giant bear hug. “How's my girl this morning?”
“Good now that I've had my coffee,” I say with a sly grin. He just clicks his tongue at me and shakes his head knowingly. He always said coffee would stunt my growth—and maybe he was right since I never did grow after the sixth grade. This happens to also be when I first started sneaking sips from his cup when he wasn’t looking.
“Did you go to the store for your mom?” he asks.
“Yeah, just got back.”
“Oh okay, I was going to offer to drive you this afternoon.”
“It's okay, I took my bike,” I admit. For some reason, it makes me feel like I've disappointed him by refusing to get back behind the wheel of a car. I know that he tries to understand but really, I can't explain it either. I just feel like something bad is going to happen again. I don't want to be responsible for any more deaths.
He looks at me sadly but doesn't say anything else about it.
We chit chat about anything and everything, catching up. He doesn't pester me with questions about what life is like out east. He just listens intently and allows me to talk about what I want. He never reads anything more into it, unlike mom who would psychoanalyze every word out of my mouth.
Mom calls out from the front porch announcing lunch. Dad throws his arm around my shoulders as we make our way back up to the house. He smells outdoorsy, like hay and dirt, a surprisingly comforting scent that I associate with my childhood. My mom may be a Super Mom, but I'm a daddy's girl through and through.