I sit up, looking around. I see no one and can’t imagine my subconscious would be telling me to move on. Not like this. Not in the place where my husband rests.
I know what I have to do, but it won’t be easy. I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find the name that has been looming there since Mason left. I press the number and watch as my phone lights up, telling me I’m calling the one person I’d hope to avoid because I thought I was strong enough to do this by myself.
“Hello, this is Katelyn Powell. I need to make an appointment to see Dr. Brooks.”
I wait on hold until she comes back with my appointment time. I hang up and watch the other mourners, wondering if they’ll go through the same thing I have or if their lives will just continue. There are two little girls; they look to be about the twins’ age. Both are dressed the same. Mason was adamant that we never do that to our kids, but we did. I did. He laughed and went along with it, once.
I think about Peyton and Elle and how I don’t want them to grow up. How I need them to stay just the way they are so I don’t forget what it was like to have their dad around. I need Peyton to always love football, to keep Mason’s spirit alive on Sundays and for Elle to be the princess that her daddy said she was going to be. I think that is the only thing that is going to keep me afloat.
Grocery shopping. I hate it. And once again, I’m asking myself why the fuck did I move so far from my mom or not bring her with me? What the hell was I thinking? Right, I wasn’t thinking with my brain, but another member of my anatomy; because I thought I could win the affection of the hottest chick I’d ever come across and look where it’s gotten me. I’m in the grocery store, looking at a million different boxes of cereal, standing next to my son who can’t make up his mind on which one he wants.
Quinn stands next to me with one arm across his stomach and his other resting on top of it. His hand is almost cupping his chin as if he’s deep in thought about what cereal is going to make his first day of school better. Who knew that buying breakfast food was so challenging?
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug.
“How can you not know?” his response confuses me. This kid eats cereal every day and he doesn’t know what kind he wants? This is exactly why I paid my mom to do all my shopping.
“Grandma says that I need to eat well because I’ll be getting up early and breakfast is the most important meal of my day.”
I look at him and roll my eyes because that is exactly what my mom texted to me last night after I asked her to send me the grocery list. My mom helped us get settled in Beaumont, but returned to Los Angeles when we went on tour. Big mistake. I had forgotten how nice it was to have her around. She was my personal assistant until this big move.
“Mr. James?” I turn at the sound of my name and find a tall woman with long blond hair, pushing a cart full of food, behind us.
“Yes?”
“I’m Monica Lowell… from Quinn’s school… his teacher. We met at the end of the school year when you came in and registered him.”
I look at her for a moment before her words set in.
“Oh yes, hi.” I extend my hand and shake hers.
“I see you’re getting ready for school to start.”
I look at our barren grocery cart and compare it to hers. I need a lot more food. “Yeah we just got back from being on tour, need to replenish.”
“Quinn, are you ready for school?”
He shrugs, which I’m starting to think is his new thing.
“I’m sure he’s ready.” Quinn looks at me briefly before turning back to the cereal selection. Maybe he’s not ready for public school.
“Well, it was nice to run into you guys. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Bye.” I watch her as she walks down the aisle. My head bends slightly when she bends over to pick something up.
“She likes you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I can tell. She makes those eyes.”
“What eyes?” I ask.
“The same ones Josie makes at Liam all the time. Noah teases her about it. He says they’re the sexy eyes.”
“You guys watch too much TV,” I say as I push the cart away. “Pick a cereal and let’s go.”
I head to the next aisle and find his teacher there as well. She looks and smiles when she sees me. I wink, even though I don’t mean to, and the result is an instant blush. She fumbles with the box that she had in hand and I can tell she’s embarrassed.
I try not to laugh and have to turn away so she doesn’t see the shit-eating grin on my face. Quinn’s right, maybe she does have a crush.
“Oh ouch.”
I turn back around and find Monica bent over rubbing her head. “Are you okay?” I ask as I walk to her.
“Fine,” she responds is a raspy voice. This is the same voice that Elle uses when she’s trying not to cry. I reach for her hand and pull it away from her head. She’s got the makings of a nasty goose egg forming.
“What did you do?”
“It’s stupid. I’ll be fine. The shelf and I had a disagreement.”