Before, I would hear the word thrown around as if it was a single unit that could not be differentiated. You either loved someone, or you didn’t.?
That day, I was playing hopscotch outside while Mom mowed the lawn. My father hadn’t come home the night before, and by the time his truck pulled up in our driveway, it must have been close to noon. Even through the windshield, I could see he looked sickly pale. Now, I know he was probably drunk out of his mind, but I didn’t recognize the signs then. I was still playing in the middle of the pavement, and while I didn’t have the reflex to get out of his way, he didn’t slow down. The truck barely stopped in time, toppling over the bicycle I’d used earlier. Fear like I’d rarely known flooded my system in a millisecond, and when it came crashing down, I started bawling. My father got out of the truck, cursing, and didn’t stop to see whether I was all right. He bypassed me and stumbled his way toward the house. However, he wasn’t the one I cared about. I’d already turned toward my mother, the way I did when my grandmother Ruth would offer me a caramel squarebefore dinner, and I had to make sure I was allowed to have it. Mom was the person I looked for when I skinned my knee. The one who made sure I wore my helmet before riding my bicycle and who was always on time for school pick-up.
I’m not sure what I expected of her. To walk over and curse him out? To tell him he had to be more careful next time? Maybe I just wanted to feel the comforting warmth of her arms around me.??
But she did none of those things. Instead, she rushed over to him, leaving me behind.??
And that’s when I understood: Mom loved him more than she loved me. There were levels to her love, and I wasn’t on top.?
It was a lesson I still remember to this day. Even when my ex-fiancé left, I wasn’t surprised. He might have loved me, but he loved the idea of being a father more, and the moment in the doctor’s office we learned I could never get pregnant was the beginning of the end. You couldn’t make someone stay when their love for something or someone else was bigger.?
?I haven't been in contact much with my mother over the years. A?quarterly phone call is what I’m willing to give, especially since every time she picks up, the conversation is nothing but pretend. She tells me everything is great at home even though I know it can't be, and I act like my life is everything I ever wanted it to be, and that’s that.?Even when my father got sentenced to eight years in jail, we didn’t talk about it. Ruth was the one who told me. Mom didn't think that was something I deserved to know—much like Ruth's passing. I’m still not sure why she didn’t tell me about it. Keira’s silence, I understand, as painful as it was, but I thoughtMom and I were fine. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she wouldn’t tell me about something like that. It's probably why I haven't found it in me to visit her yet.?
?I tried yesterday, even got in my car and drove there, but the second I saw the house from afar, I turned around and went grocery shopping, thankfully not coming across any familiar faces.
This morning, I thought I’d try again but decided on starting my deep clean of Ruth’s place instead. It’s not like it’sonlyan excuse. If I need to have this house sold by the end of the month, I can’t waste time sitting around.
It’s now been five hours of heavy cleaning, and I don’t think I’ve felt this useful in weeks. Months, even. In other circumstances, I might’ve put music on, but today, I wanted emptiness. Even my thoughts silenced as I mopped and dusted. It felt good.
My shoulders ache as I bring yet another bucket of grimy water to the sink. I should probably take a break. My gaze drifts to my phone sitting on the countertop. Maybe I could start with a phone call to Mom. Might be easier.
After wiping my hands on my jeans, I grab the phone and walk outside toward the Adirondack chairs overlooking the cliffs. The sun is out today, casting a glare that would feel scorching if it weren’t for the ocean breeze. Fine droplets of water mist along my shins as I settle into the chair. I flip the phone in my hands, then unlock it. Now or never, I guess.
But before I can dial Mom, high-pitched laughter from next door catches my attention.
Zoe pumps her legs with her light-up shoes on as she runs away from Eli, who’s chasing after her. Some of her curls slip out of her pigtails and onto her paisley shirt as she gazes behind, giggling even harder when she sees how close Eli is. He’s laughing, too, the sound deep and sharp, one that’s so familiar, it almost takes me back to summer days spent in the water playing catch whenwewere kids. My childhood home isn’t far from Ruth’s, only a five-minute car ride, but as a child, we rarely visited, mostly because my father and Ruth were never on good terms. During the summer, though, I’d spend all my time here. Eli and I didn’t attend the same school, so I soaked up every second of July and August. As I got older, I was able to sneak off more often to Ruth’s during the school year, but it was never the same as summer, when I felt detached from the life I had in school.
I should probably look away, leave them in their moment of bonding, but I can’t. The sight is too heartwarming to miss. My hand falls to my stomach as I continue watching the movie taking place in front of me. Eli’s hair is disheveled, flopping around his face as he leans down to grab Zoe before she escapes him once more.
Since he doesn’t seem to have noticed me, I take the opportunity to study him further. When he pulled me out of the water, I was so shocked—both from the near-death experience and from seeing him—that I didn’t quite take in all the details that have made up Eli Grant over the years. But now, I can’t unsee the way he carries himself with so much more confidence than before, or how he still smiles so easily. It used to take a lot to make me smile, but Eli neverneeded much. A joke, a bump of your shoulder, even just a weird sound, and he’d crack up.
From the way Zoe’s laughter heightens with the roar Eli lets out, she seems to have inherited that beautiful trait. She continues running, her breathing so loud I can hear it even from here.
“I’ll get you, Zoe Bear!”
She shrieks, looking once more over her shoulder, and just as she does, her whole body goes sprawling forth. Not a second later, a wail erupts from her. Eli is next to her in a moment, his expressive face turned into a scowl as he picks her up in his arms. I’m sitting on the edge of my chair, squinting so I can see what’s happening, and when I notice blood on her leg, I don’t think twice before getting up and jogging their way. I might look like a creep—again—but if someone doesn’t come help quickly, there will soon be two patients instead of one.
“Hey, Zoe,” I say as I reach the spot where she fell, dropping to my knees next to them. “I’m Cassie. Remember me? We met a few days ago.”
She’s still sobbing while holding onto her leg, not listening to a word I’m saying. Meanwhile, Eli has become stock-still, his face the color of ash.
“I’m a nurse. I take care of people with booboos all the time.” Not true since I switched to L&D, but a white lie never hurt anyone. “Would you let me look at yours?”
That seems to reassure her, and with a wobbly lip, she nods.
“Good,” I say. When Eli doesn’t move, his gaze stuck on the small, bleeding cut on his daughter’s knee, I touch his shoulderfirmly and say, “Can you go get me some Band-Aids?” When he doesn’t answer, I squeeze him again, this time more firmly. Finally, he looks up and almost jumps when he sees me, as if he hadn’t noticed my presence before. “Band-Aids,” I repeat, making sure he’s looking at me.
He nods, then gets to his feet and walks away, looking only half ready to pass out. I’d call it a success.
“You took a mean fall,” I tell Zoe as I push her tear-soaked hair away from her forehead. “You know what used to make me feel better when I hurt myself?”
She shakes her head, her sobbing having calmed to silent tears and her attention on me. She has the same wide-set brown eyes as her dad.
I lean forward as if I have a secret to tell her. “My mommy would give me a kiss where it hurt and then let me eat a popsicle afterward, and it was her magic trick. Think it could work with you?”
“My mommy isn’t here,” she whimpers.
“Then your daddy will do just fine.”
