“Is that everything, ma’am?” the moving guy asked.
Cali turned around, her gaze taking in her mother’s living room. “Yes. The sofa stays.”
“Okay. We’ll be here tomorrow with the things from the apartment.”
Smiling took effort, but she managed. “Thanks.” She watched him leave. It was Monday and instead of returning to work, she’d taken the week off to finish getting her mother’s house emptied and her things from the apartment ready to move in.
She hadn’t thought she’d ever want to live here—in the Cancer House. But after what happened at her apartment, she hadn’t wanted to stay there, either. So she’d come here. And once she recovered from her four-hour cry, she’d started remembering things. Good things—like how she and her mom had laughed over dinners, how they spent evenings, each of them with a good book in their hands. Or watching old Burt Reynolds movies.
Yes, her mom had died here, but she’d also lived here. Cali needed to remember those good times. Cancer had taken away her mom—Cali wasn’t going to let it take away her memories or the home her mother had loved.
She still felt as if a part of her was missing, as if someone had come in the dead of night and surgically removed an important limb—an arm or a foot. She continued walking, pretending it was still there, but she kept tripping, stumbling over the pain that hit so hard at certain moments she couldn’t breathe.
She told herself the thing missing was her mom and not Brit. But she lied. She missed them both. The difference was that her mom had died. The other had left on his accord. Brit had just walked out. Walked out without even talking to her. Hadn’t he seen how much she needed him? That had hurt even worse than the things he’d said to her the last time they argued.
However, she refused to dwell on it. Forward. She needed to move forward. That’s what her mother said and that was what Cali intended to do.
She went to the table where she had laid out the paint chips last night. Tanya had offered to come over tonight and help her paint. Cali had chosen pale yellows for the walls, and next week the carpet would be removed and hardwood floors installed.
Walking into one of the extra bedrooms, Cali remembered her mom telling her that the room would make a good art studio. She’d been right.
The large windows allowed in a lot of light, making it a perfect place to paint.
Tomorrow, Cali planned to go to the art supply store and buy paint and canvases. Forward. She would survive. Hadn’t her mama said she’d be okay?
Last night, Cali had prayed she’d dream about her mom, but she hadn’t. She’d dreamed about Brit. She didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she made plans.
Next week, she’d return to teaching and spend her evenings either working on the house or reconnecting with some part of herself she’d lost when her mother got cancer. Funny how the memory of her mom getting cancer brought back memories of Marty.
It took thinking about Marty and his dream job which had ended their relationship, to realize that her own dream of being an artist hadn’t vanished. It had only been sleeping. So during her time off for Thanksgiving, Cali would try to reconnect with her old dream.
Normal. Life would never be like it was. But she’d find a new normal, because the old one didn’t exist anymore.
As good as it had felt to face Stan, and even to fight and win against Nolan Bright, Cali had decided she didn’t want to be a bitch, after all. She just needed to be stronger and more selective of whom she allowed into her life. That meant no more dickheads. Even little dickheads.
She’d already signed up to work at the shelter on Thanksgiving Day. Yesterday, she’d visited Sara and her mother, too, and offered to help any way she could. The woman was scheduled for a mastectomy in two weeks. Doctor Tien had reviewed the test results and recommended she do more than just a lumpectomy. Cali figured if she spent time helping others, she wouldn’t have so much time to feel sorry for herself. Pity parties just weren’t her thing.
She’d also made another appointment to talk to Dr. Roberts. Her mother had said Cali had issues. Maybe it was high time she understood those issues a little better. Maybe then, she wouldn’t have to work so hard to forget Brit.
Forward. She was moving forward.
Chapter Forty-Three
The week after Thanksgiving, two weeks since she’d moved into her mom’s house, Cali stood back as Tanya studied her first two paintings. Until now, she hadn’t had the guts to show them to anyone.
“I’m speechless.” Tanya’s brown eyes grew large.
“Are they that bad?” Cali asked.