“There better be a picture of me in one of those boxes.”
I laugh. “You think you’re that important, huh?”
“Hell, yes!” He pulls me into his arms. “I’m going to miss the shit out of you, Kins.”
His words settle with an ache deep in my chest. The thought kills me more than it should. Not seeing Luca every day will be the hardest part. It makes it slightly easier knowing he’s only a call or text away.Only slightly.
Unable to hold back the tears, I let them fall. “Me, too.”
He kisses the top of my head, releases me, and then heads for the door. I grab my jacket and backpack from the back of the desk chair. As Luca goes on ahead, I tap Alex on his shoulder. He pulls the tape across the box, sealing it.
I lower my voice to a whisper. “Can you also bring that small one over there?”
He looks to where I’m pointing. “Sure, miss.”
“Thanks.”
My mom is in the kitchen. She throws back her head, then takes a sip of water. It doesn’t take a genius to know she’s trying to numb the pain of the loss of her husband.
“Mom.” The cautiousness in my voice is new when I speak to her now. Before, she was so lively and fun. Now, she’s more like a zombie, just trying to make it to the next day.
She sets down the glass. “Hi, sweetie.”
Luca leans against the counter and looks from me to my mom. I don’t miss his prefab, easygoing expression. Like me, he also notices the change in her.
“Where are you guys off to?” she asks.
I wonder if she remembers that I’m moving to her brother’s house today, where I’ll be staying while she visits her sister. “I’m all packed and ready to leave for Uncle Trey’s.”
A hesitant smile plays on her face, then falls pleasantly into place. “Yes, Trey is looking forward to having you there. It’s perfect that he lives so close to Monarch.”
“Yeah, it is. We talked yesterday. He’s got my room all ready.”
Her fingers play with the ends of her ponytail. She managed to get dressed in a simple flowing sundress and sandals. It’s a step up from her usual attire. The roots of her hair have grown out, and her skin looks pale and chalky. It breaks my heart to see her look so lost without my dad.
“It’s been a while since he’s had someone else living with him, so try to be patient. Help him when you can. Make sure you clean up after yourself.”
I know all of this, but I let her talk it out—do the mom thing. “I will.”
As she opens her arms to me, I go into them with all the sadness, longing, and pain she feels. I swore to myself that when this moment came, I wouldn’t cry, but I’m unable to keep that promise. A tear slips free, falling onto her bare shoulder.
She pulls back and cups my cheeks. “Oh, sweetie, this is for the best. We’ll both take some time away from here, restore our strength, and find our happiness again.” The forced smile on her lips does nothing to sugarcoat the words she desperately wants to believe.
There’s so much I could say to her. Living in the house they built together has been hard for her. Memories of him are on every wall: family pictures, the art they bought together, and even the light, feather-gray paint they chose from a hundred different swatches. I want to tell her that being apart isn’t for the best, that we need each other and this is the easy way out, but I don’t say any of those things. As much as it hurts to admit, she feels she needs time to heal in her way, without me, and I need to respect that.
She continues. “Listen, I’ve had the accountant set up accounts for anything you need.” She hands me an envelope. “Here are debit and credit cards and some cash.”
“Thanks.” I stuff it into my backpack. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
She nods. “I don’t know how long I’m staying with your aunt, but I’m just a phone call away.”
I wish she weren’t leaving at all. But it isn’t fair to ask her to stay. Luca wants me to go with him, but I also have to do certain things to heal. And like me, my mom is doing the best she can. We all are.
I give her one final hug. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, so much, my beautiful girl.” She walks me to the door.
I try so hard not to look over my shoulder, but I take one last glance at her. Mom has already disappeared back inside. There’s hurt stacked upon hurt as I stare at the closed door. Her pain is masked with pills, while mine is raw and without. The only thing I’m grateful for is that she didn’t see the brutal way Dad was killed.