The pictures I’ve seen through the years say it all. She’s not who she used to be. Her smile isn’t hers. Her eyes don’t shine like they did for me. She might be ten years older and all woman now, but she’s not who she was.
Doesn’t matter how much I hate her, I accept half that burden.
And she’s got a child now.
Fuck.
I need to leave.
I shouldn’t have moved back—should’ve brought my mom to California. What the hell was I thinking?
Ghosts.
I swear, if I don’t watch out, they’ll eat me alive.
1
A Decade
There are times in life where you’ll fall deeper into despair. Those are the days that make you who you are. Embrace them.
Ellie
It’s the moment we realize, God has a solution.
He’s full of shit.
There’s no solution.
If anyone is an example of that, it’s Faye Barrett.
Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
Bullshit. Years of mourning and the most I can be thankful for is numbness. When it’s not stabbing at my heart, I’m at least grateful for that … a shot of Novocain to my soul. Those are the days I can pretend I’m fine, even normal.
We will deeply miss our friend in Christ, Faye.
Tears prick at my eyes and I push my Marc Jacobs sunglasses up my nose, happy I thought to grab a pair of shades even though the skies are as dreary as this old cemetery out in the middle of the Texas hills. It’s as gloomy as what has become my life. At least I have Griffin. After all that’s happened, I’m grateful Robert was a shit dad. My son will never know what he was missing out on in a father and I’ll be everything for him. Griff is all I have now that Faye is gone. My secret visits with her were the only bright spot in my life besides my son.
Yes. I’ll miss my friend Faye more than ever.
In honor of our sister, let’s bow our heads in prayer…
From the corner of my eye, I see him shift his weight. It doesn’t matter how much I try to ignore his presence. Trust me, I’m trying. I knew I’d see him today. He not only loved his mother, he revered her the way we were preached to honor our parents every Sunday morning. His mother deserves it—she’s a saint.
Was.
She was a saint who was put through hell by her ex-husband and his family—but not by her son.
Trig.
Short for Trigger—a nickname for Easton Barrett. He was known to have the gentlest trigger finger, resulting in the best shot in North Texas when he was young. He grew up a mile from our land, but unlike my family’s ranch, his was a compound of nothing but filth—and not the kind made from dirt. When I was young, we were told to stay away because nothing good happened on Barrett land.
My dad was right. I had no idea just how right until after I turned eighteen … but he was also wrong. Faye was a gentle soul and loving friend. I asked her a couple weeks ago during one of my clandestine visits why she never left that godforsaken man that was her husband.
She looked away like she was in another world and shook her head, explaining, “I had my Easton.”
That was before she took a turn.
