“I think you’re a better one,” I replied. I swallowed hard and looked down at my hands. “And I think my life is easier when you’re around.”
“Oh.” She said softly, tilting her head toward me. “So I guess that’s a mutual thing. More facts?”
“Real ones or stupid ones?”
“Real is good,” she replied. “I like real. I just didn’t know if you liked to share that kind of stuff.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, then share whatever you want.”
I took a deep breath and felt her arm lightly brush against mine, but I didn’t say a word. There was an extended moment of silence before I built up the nerve to speak again. It was as if my brain was debating how real I wanted to get with her. We’d pretty much skated the surface of truths without ever really digging into them.
“Tucker was the last gift my mother ever gave me,” I confessed. “She gave him to me a few weeks before she decided to leave my father and start her life with another man. I remember it like it was yesterday. My parents didn’t let me have pets when I was little, said I was too young, but when I turned ten, they said I could get a dog. I think it was because I was bullied so badly and had no friends. They felt bad for how lonely I was as a kid. Then a few weeks later, she was packing her bags to leave.”
“How did you find out she was going?”
“I saw my parents fighting in the living room. They fought for what felt like forever until Dad was just exhausted. I remember the defeat in his eyes. I think that was the exact moment he realized she was never going to be his again. She had chosen someone else, and he had a hard time with that. She was his everything—our everything—but, well, just because someone’s your everything doesn’t mean you’re theirs. I’d begged her to stay. I literally threw myself at my mother and sobbed, pleading for her not to run away. My father had left the room because it was just too much for him. He’d checked out, I think. He’d already given up, and his heart was already so bruised, but I was just a kid. All I knew was that I wanted my mom to stay with me. I sobbed against her, pulling on her clothes, clawing at her, and she kept promising me it wasn’t forever, that she would never leave me and we’d find a new normal. You know the last thing she said to me?”
“What?”
“She kissed my forehead, looked me in the eyes, and said, ‘Take care of your father.’”
“Wow…”
“Shortly after, we learned about the car accident with Josie’s father. My mom died instantly. We hadn’t even had time to hate her for leaving before we were forced to mourn.”
“Jackson, I’m so, so sorry,” Grace said as she breathed out. “I cannot even imagine what that would do to a person’s soul.”
I felt my chest tightening, and as I spoke, I remembered why it was a subject I never opened up about. It was hard—too hard to relive those memories. It was too hard to face that guilt all over again. Whenever I thought of the night of Mom’s death, I swore it felt like I was right back there, drowning all over again.
“Maybe if I had begged for a few seconds longer, then she wouldn’t have been on that road at that exact moment. Maybe if I’d held her tighter…” I whispered.
Grace shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Jackson. There’s no way it was anyone’s fault.”
“I could’ve fought harder to make her stay.”
“No. That’s been a hard lesson for me to learn. It turns out it doesn’t matter how much you beg someone to stay. If they want to go, they are going to leave regardless. All we can do—all anyone can do is learn the art of letting go, and no matter what, it’s clear she loved you.”
“She was my world, and after I lost her, Tucker became my best friend. I felt as if somehow, he was a part of her.” I lowered my head and closed my eyes. “Say something to change the subject,” I begged. “Say anything to make my mind stop spinning.”
Grace cleared her throat for a second, and then she began to sing “Tubthumping” by Chumbawamba.
Almost instantly, I laughed. I needed that. I needed her there with me to ease me away from the darkness. “Great timing,” I told her, releasing a breath. I allowed my shoulders to roll back and relax.
“I am really sorry, though, about your mother.”
“It’s all right. It’s just the main reason I don’t believe in love.”
“You don’t believe in love? Like at all?”
“Nah. I’ve just seen what love can be when it’s found, and what it can become when it’s lost. My father is who he is because of a broken heart, because he lost the love of his life. For months, he wouldn’t get out of bed. He turned to the bottle to try to feel better. He tried to drink my mother out of his memory, and when that didn’t work, he kept drinking and now he’s just…broken.”
“What was your father like? Before he changed?”
“Happy,” I said. “That’s the only word I can think of. He had the deepest laugh, you know, the kind that would rocket through your system and make you laugh yourself, and he was so in tune with cars. He could fix pretty much any and everything. I remember being young and watching him in awe.”
“And now he’s the way he is because she broke his heart.”
“Exactly. I hate who he is right now, hate seeing him in this light because he pisses me off daily. I don’t know who that man in that house is anymore, but I can’t really blame him. The love of his life died in a pretty awful way right after telling him she didn’t love him anymore. If I were him, I’d be crazy, too.”
“Do you think someday he’ll be okay?”
“I don’t know. I hope so, but I really don’t know. I’ve tried to get him into rehab clinics, but he doesn’t want to hear it. I think he feels like what’s the point? No matter what, she’ll still be gone, sober or not. Plus, he’d still be sad sober—probably even sadder.”
“Do you think broken hearts can be fixed?”
“Yes,” I said matter-of-factly. “They just beat a little differently.”
“So maybe someday your dad’s heart can be fixed.”
I shook my head. “For a broken heart to be fixed, the person has to want to repair it. It’s kind of like a car engine—you can fix it if you take the time to work through the broken parts, but I think my dad’s gotten used to how it feels—the hurt. I think that’s where he’s most comfortable now.”
“What about your heart?” she asked. “Is your heart okay?”
“My heart left me the day she passed away.”
“Oh, Jackson…” Her voice lowered, and my chest ached. “It hurts me that you’re so sad.”
We didn’t say another word, but she didn’t leave my side for a good while.
Grace didn’t know it, but at that moment, I was so happy she stayed.
I was in desperate need of someone staying with me.
27
Grace
One Monday afternoon, I ran into Finn in town, and he kept calling my name.
I tried my best to ignore him, but he wouldn’t let up. “Gracelyn! Grace!”
I gave up and turned to face him. “What is it, Finn?” I whisper-shouted, not wanting to draw any attention to us.
“I…” He raced his hand over his buzzed haircut. “I think we need to talk about things. I know you’re angry, but we’re still married, Grace. You can’t just avoid dealing with me.”
“You mean how you avoided dealing with me for the past eight months?”
“I know I didn’t handle that well, and I want to apologize for that. Things have been a bit complicated.”
“Autumn’s pregnant with your kid. Plus, she told me you told her that I left you. Really, Finley? Is that how you get women to bang you? By making me out to be the monster?”
He lowered his head and cringed a bit. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’m trying my best to learn and own up to them. I owe you more apologies than I can even express, and I just want to have an open dialogue so we can talk. I think maybe marriage therapy… Or maybe we could start praying together again? Remember when we used to pray together?”
“Yes, and then each night you told me you were too tired to kneel beside me.”
“I’ve been so lost, Grace. I just…I need you back. I don’t do well without you in my life.”
What?
I was baffled.