Healed (24 page)

I was nervous driving up to my parents’ house the next day. It seemed stupid. I’d spent a ton of time talking to my dad over the years, so why should this conversation be any different?

Because this time we’re going to talk about how Mom died.

All that I could hope for was that Emily was right, and this would help us both. Not that we’d ever forget Mom, but the constant pain of her being gone would begin to lessen with each passing day.

As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that the lawn needed to be mowed. Yet another thing that had fallen by the wayside since her death. She wouldn’t have been happy, of that I was certain, and it made me sad to realize that I wouldn’t ever get to hear her bitching about an untidy yard being a reflection on the family. When we were younger, Jess and I used to toss a coin—the ground was awkward to mow so neither of us liked doing it—but I always ended up out there, grass in my mouth, my shirt sticking to my skin as I pushed our ancient mower over the lumps and bumps. Dad would watch from the window, and always flicked me a few dollars as a thank you—because if I’d done it, it meant he didn’t have to. The thought made me chuckle, in spite of the situation. As tempting as it was to see to that and avoid the conversation ahead, the grass could be sorted another day.

I walked into the house and found Dad sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass in front of him. My chest ached thinking about all of it.

“Hey, Dad.”

I took the seat across from him, taking stock of the dark, heavy circles under his eyes. With Jess back at school and me at work most of the time, no one was making sure that Dad slept enough, or even went to bed at all.

“Andrew, what are you doing here?” His voice was flat. Uninterested.

“I was hoping we could talk.” I took a deep breath. This was harder than I’d thought. “We always used to talk, and I need your help. I don’t know what to do.” My voice broke at the end and his eyes lifted away from the table to look at me.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Mom.”

He reached over and poured himself another glass of the amber liquid, clutching it to his chest, as if he needed it to get through the conversation. “You might want to grab a glass of your own for this.”

Standing, I grabbed a smaller glass out of the cabinet. I didn’t want to drink that much, but a little liquid courage never hurt anyone. He filled my glass and I took a quick sip, letting the alcohol burn as it went down. It wasn’t enough to get rid of the lump at the back of my throat, but it was a start. When Dad just stared at the glass I knew, as much as it hurt, I was going to have to ask what I wanted to know.

“What happened that day?”

His eyes filled with tears. “She woke—” He cleared his throat and started again. “She woke up with a headache, so she took some Advil and said she’d be fine. By the middle of the day it had turned into a full-blown migraine. She went to lie down, hoping some sleep would help. I was down here watching TV. I heard a loud bang.”

His eyes looked empty, lost as he continued. “I went upstairs to see what had happened and found her on the floor next to the bed. One side of her face was drooping so I called 911.”

He stopped, pulling in deep breaths that shuddered. “When they got here they assumed it was a stroke and rushed her to the hospital. Jess and I got there right after them. They said—” He broke down, sobbing against the table. “If only I’d taken her earlier.”

It took Dad a little bit to cry out his pain. My eyes burned with unshed tears hearing the story. I gave up and let them fall down my face. Eventually, he was able to get control of himself and brushed at his face with the back of his hand. He grabbed the glass in front of him, knocking back at least half of what was in it. He didn’t need to say anything else. The rest had been explained by the doctor when I’d arrived at the hospital. They’d told us the lack of blood and oxygen to the brain was too much to come back from.

We sat in silence for a bit, my hand covering his, trying to offer a much comfort as I could give. We both felt her loss.

“Dad?”

He looked back up again. “Yeah.”

“Em and I have been having so many problems lately. She’s been really supportive, but I can’t shake this overwhelming fear about everything she does. Last night she finally flipped out and suggested I talk to you. I don’t know what to do. I can’t imagine what you’re going through and I’m scared to death to face it myself.”

He took another swig of his drink. “Walk away.”

“Walk away? What do you mean ‘walk away’?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like.” He covered my hand with his. “Look, Son, I know how much you love Emily. After all, I was the one who convinced you to propose. But I was wrong.”

None of this made any sense. “Wrong about what?”

“You shouldn’t have proposed.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. “I thought you loved Em.”

“Don’t get me wrong . . . I do. It’s just that it’s better not to have that time for your love to get stronger than it is having to deal with millions of memories and feelings that you can’t shake.” His voice had become flat and emotionless again.

“I can’t.”

“You have to, Son. It’s the only way to protect yourself. I know it will hurt for a while, but eventually you’ll get over it, saving yourself a ton of heartache in the end.”

Could he be serious? Dad had always led me down the right path. The fear of something happening to Emily was becoming all-consuming . . . but the thought of leaving her burned my gut.

Then I looked up and saw my dad, drowning himself in a bottle of booze, trying to forget. Emily’s face flashed before my eyes and the pain in my chest increased to the point where I doubled over on the table at just the thought of it.

“I don’t think I can.”

Dad’s eyes flashed and his jaw clenched. “You ask me for help and then you sit there and ignore my advice because it’s too hard? Do what you want then.” He grabbed the bottle and stormed out of the room, not even bothering with the glass.

What had I done? He was trying to help me and I was ignoring him. I got up and followed him to the living room to find him slumped on the couch, the bottle raised to his lips. That’s when I noticed his clothes. It looked like he hadn’t showered or changed since the last time I was there. That was worse than I’d experienced. At least I’d got up every morning, and returning to work had meant I’d had to shower and get dressed. Is this what I would become if something happened to Emily? Doubt started to creep in as I sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I know I asked, and that you’re only trying to help.”

He looked at me, eyes full of pain. “Look, Son, I know you love Emily and she loves you, I’m just trying to save you from my fate. I loved your mother with every fiber of my being, but if I had to do it all again, I’d walk away and save myself the misery. All of the memories aren’t a good thing—they’re just constant reminders of all that I’ve lost. Don’t make my mistakes. I’m not going to say it won’t hurt, but in the end you’ll be better for it.”

My eyes filled with tears. Here, through all of his pain, my dad was trying to help me. “I’ll think about it.”

“If you need to talk some more, I’m always here.”

And just like that, he went back to his bottle of whiskey.

While I straightened up the house I replayed our conversation. Dad had given me a lot to think about. Was living in this constant state of uncertainty and worry worth it? Did Emily deserve that kind of person in her life? To be honest, I wasn’t really sure I could leave her, but living the way we were wasn’t fair to either of us.

That night I went home and stayed mostly inside my own head. I’d spent a lot of time there lately, so Emily was content to leave me alone with my thoughts.

Staring at the ceiling, I listened to Emily’s soft breathing next to me, Dad’s words running through my head. Glancing down at her sleeping, I had no idea what the best choice would be. She was so beautiful, yet besides that kiss the other night, I hadn’t put my hands on her since the night before Caleb and Angie’s wedding. A good night’s sleep would help make things more clear in the morning.

The phone is ringing in the room somewhere. I sit up and look around, and pick up the call.

“You need to come to the hospital,” Josh says.

“Why?”

“Just get here.”

I throw on the clothes at the end of the bed. Something’s missing but I can’t put my finger on it. Deciding not to worry about it, I run out of the apartment to my car. Nick’s isn’t in the lot. He’s probably still at Morgan’s.

As fast as I can, I drive to the hospital. When I walk in the door all my friends are there. Angie is wrapped in Caleb’s arms, sobbing. Caleb’s eyes glisten. Josh puts his hand on my shoulder and leads me down the hall.

“I’m so sorry, man,” he says, his voice breaking at the end.

He directs me into a room where a sheet is covering a body. I have no idea what is going on. I’m so confused.

That’s when I see the lock of light brown hair that has fallen from under the sheet. I recognize the color immediately and run to the bed. Ripping off the sheet, I stare down at the eyes of the love of my life.

Except they are blank, and hold none of their former warmth.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, I tried to catch my breath but it was near impossible with the silent sobs that wracked my body. As quietly as I could, I slipped from the bed and went into the bathroom. The apartment was quiet, making the memories play on repeat. Locking the door, I turned and let my back slide down the door. My eyes burned. There was just no way I could hold back the tears. Flashes of the dream kept coming back to me, mixed with my father’s words. Maybe he was right, end it now before she was so much a part of my life that I couldn’t survive without her. Was it the right thing to do? I wasn’t sure. The problem was I couldn’t shake the feeling that the fears I had were tearing us apart anyway.

Maybe this was better for the both of us.

It was hours that I sat there, staring at the shower curtain, trying to decide what to do. When I’d finally made my decision, I stood up and went back into the bedroom. There was only about an hour before we had to get up for work. Standing in the doorway, I watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful, her smooth skin begging to be touched one last time, but I kept my hands to myself. As much as I wanted to get closer, I stayed right where I was. Not much time passed before she stirred in her sleep, rolling over onto her side. Her hand moved around on the empty bed where I should have been. Slowly her eyes flickered open.

Emily looked around the room. “Hey,” she said, her voice rough with sleep. “Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Not really.”

Rubbing her eyes, she got up and walked over to wrap her arms around my waist. “I’m sorry. I guess the talk with your dad didn’t help?”

I did everything in my power to keep my emotions from my face. Although it was something that had to be done, I just couldn’t tell her yet. At least, not to her face. Maybe that made me a coward, but it didn’t change my choice. At the moment walking away would be hard enough as it is. Dad was right. A little pain now would save me a ton in the future.

“It wasn’t what I expected.”

When I refused to say anything more, she leaned up and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “Well, at least it’s a start. I need to get in the shower. Maybe you should call work and go in an hour later and take a quick nap. I’m sure they would understand.”

“I will.” I’d already planned on taking the whole day to pack.

She disappeared into the bathroom. I watched the door shut and turned back into the bedroom. With a resigned sigh, I dropped onto the edge of the bed to wait. Before Emily got out of the shower, I called work and left a message that I’d be working from home for the day.”

Emily wasn’t a sit-around-and-drink-coffee kind of person in the mornings. Once she was out of the shower she got dressed and collected her stuff to leave, preferring to sleep until the last possible moment. I followed her from the room as she took the cup Nick handed her.

“I made you one too.” He took in my pajama pants. “I’ll leave it on the counter for when you’re ready.”

Emily looked at me, worry in her eyes. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Thank you.” Before she could ask what for, I lifted her chin and devoured her lips with mine, tasting every inch, knowing that I had to let her go. It might have been a bit much, but it was absolutely perfect for our last kiss. To hide my shaking hands, I shoved them into the pocket of my pants. There was no need to upset her until it was absolutely necessary. Her eyes held a ton of questions.

“You’re going to be late.”

She looked at the clock. “Yeah. We’ll talk more when I get home?” It was said as a question—one that I wasn’t going to answer. “Maybe we can go out to dinner tonight?”

At my lack of response her shoulders dropped and she walked out the door, followed by Nick who was looking at me curiously, but gave me a nod on the way out. He knew something was up. At least he’d be here when Emily found out.

I turned from the entryway and went to the bedroom to pack.