“Maybe ‘why are you here?’ is probably the better question, Jake. Get out of my head.”
Jake’s chuckle reverberated around the confined space. “I can’t, Kendall. You won’t let me go.”
Tears swam in his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. “Why do I have to do that?”
“You’re kidding, right—me in your head for the rest of your life? Do you want to be batshit crazy?”
“You mean as batshit crazy as you were?”
“There’s the Ryan I know.”
Ryan stared hard at the house. The white trim needed painting, the gardens tending, yet it was neat and tidy. “Well, I’m glad someone knows who he is.”
Pulling the key from the ignition, Ryan slid from the car and forced his feet to move towards the front door. He drew strength from thoughts of Fin while he waited for someone to answer his knock. Unable to bear waking her, he’d left her sleeping. Instead, he wrote a note on her pillow telling her he had things to do and would be back later that day. He was worried if he told her where he was going this morning she would insist on coming, and he had such a hard time saying no to her, even in this.
He’d been living at the cottage for two weeks now, and for every one of those days he’d been watching her carefully. She swore that day in the bathroom she’d just got a head spin from moving too quickly. After an emotional few months, and such rapid weight loss, it was a wonder her health was as good as it was. Her eating in the last week had been improving steadily, and after forcing a promise from her to go to the doctor if it happened again, he let it go reluctantly.
Ryan rapped smartly again and when the door flew open, his hand dropped to his side.
“Ryan!”
He nodded impassively. “Mum.” His eyes fell to where her hand shook on the doorknob before they rose to her face. He felt so different, so removed from her. It was like knowing her was another lifetime ago. “Can I come in?”
She stood out of the way, her hand fluttering to her hair to smooth the dark brown strands. He remembered it as long, glossy waves, but now it was to her shoulders, and smooth.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
Huh. After all these years, this was the best she could come up with? “Well, I wasn’t expecting an invitation.”
She frowned. “You left.”
“Why do you think I did that?”
Annoyed already, he stepped inside the house. Most of the furniture he ran his eyes over was new. No. Not new, just different, changed. The photos still plagued the walls like some sad, godforsaken shrine. Ryan ran his eyes over them, his heart aching.
“Would you like some of the photos, Ryan?” his mother asked softly.
Ryan only had the one in his wallet. It was faded and worn from use. He took it out all the time and stared at it, wondering what his life would have been like if she were still alive. Always fucking wondering. He couldn’t let it go, and it made him so damn tired.
He swallowed. “Please.”
“You can choose them. Can I get you a drink … or something?”
“No.” He turned to face her. She was hugging herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “Where’s Dad?”
She sighed. “We divorced a long time ago, Ryan. I haven’t seen your father in years.”
His brows flew up. “Oh. Was it …”
“Some people, when they lose a child, they never really recover. Your father couldn’t let it go. It was killing us, and then how he was with you, how I was with you. We lost you too, that’s on us, I know, but I’m—”
“Mum,” he cut her off and she froze, her fluttering hands halting mid-air.
Ryan drew a deep breath and let it out. Why couldn’t he hate her? He wanted to but it was such a useless emotion. There was no room left in his heart for hate, but for his mother there was no room for love either. He looked at her, really looked at her. She seemed tiny and faded somehow, just a transparent version of the person she used to be. His heart softened. “Maybe I’ll have that drink after all.”
She flushed. “O-of course. Um … coffee?”
“Black, no sugar.”
“I’ll go make it. Why don’t you go choose some photos while you’re waiting?”
Ryan nodded, moving towards the wall of photos when she stepped out of the room. He ran his eyes carefully over each and every one of them. His sister’s bright happy face stared back at him in all of them. Closing his eyes, the day she died burst vividly in his mind.
“Mum!” he yelled loudly, grabbing the football as he flew out the front door. “Going outside to kick the footy around.”
“Don’t go far,” she called out from the kitchen. “Dinner won’t be long!”
“Can I come too, Ryan?” his little sister called out.
“No, Kass. You can’t catch properly. You’re all thumbs.”
Ryan gasped, pushing the memory away. It hurt too much. It should have faded over time, but it still taunted him with the brightest clarity.