I fold the last of my sweaters and place them into the suitcase resting on the bare mattress. It takes a lot of effort to zip it closed, and I'm sweating by the time I'm done.
When I pull it off the bed, it drops to the floor with a thud.
I stare around at the almost empty space that I'm leaving behind. Everything that made it mine is now in boxes. It's a shell, ready for the new renter who will be here tomorrow.
I'm sure, they'll be happy here.
I have been.
A horn sounds outside, and then a car door slams. Suzanne is right on time. I hear her footsteps on the asphalt, and I shake my head, trying to bring some clarity back to my mind before she sees me.
I have to do this. There isn't a choice. There's no point in wallowing in what could have been or what should have been.
Sometimes life comes and takes away the future that you're expecting.
But when it does, there's always the option of another future. I learned that after Tyler.
The trouble is that even thinking about trying to build a future without Tyler and the boys tightens my throat and hollows my chest.
The door to the apartment is open, and Suzanne calls my name when she reaches the doorway.
"Sandy. Are you ready?"
"I'm in here," I call back, swallowing against the ache.
"Wow." She looks around and then shakes her head. "Not sure everything's gonna fit in the truck."
"We'll have to make it fit," I say. "The agent is coming to pick up the key."
"Well, we'd better get a move on then," she says.
I leave the suitcase where it is and focus on taking the heaviest boxes down to the truck with Suzanne. It's a struggle, but we manage the best we can, huffing and puffing and working up a sweat.
We pack my comforter, blankets, and pillows next, filling every available space in the vehicle. I concentrate on the practicalities and push my emotions down. It’s what I’ve learned to do.
The suitcase rests in the backseat along with my potted plants, a mirror, and some photo frames that could shatter if something lands on them while in transit.
And I fill my car too. Just opening the trunk reminds me of Tyler and saying goodbye. He placed my things in my car with so much care and kissed me with tenderness that hurt rather than soothed.
Everything reminds me of the boys I left behind.
When the agent arrives, I fish for the keys in my purse and unhook them from my key ring.
"I'm sure there's going to be no problem releasing the deposit," he says after taking a quick look around the apartment. "You've kept it perfectly."
"Thanks." I'm relieved that all my effort rubbing the damage from the walls has paid off. "I could do with getting the money back as quickly as possible."
"I'm sure that won't be a problem," he says, but he's not really focused on me. He's already swiping through his phone, looking in his calendar for his next appointment.
Walking out of the apartment feels surreal.
This place was my roots, and now I'm left moving into Suzanne's home with the ghost of Tyler and the boys aching inside me.
I wish I knew what to do. I wish there was an easy answer.
I wish that I could tell Tyler what I did and not break his heart.
As I follow my sister back to the house, I'm filled with a mix of trepidation and excitement. It's been three weeks since I saw my niece's pretty face. Three weeks since she gave me a cuddle and kissed my cheek and told me how much she loves me.
Three weeks is too long to be apart from her.
Suzanne has my room all ready for me to settle into. It's in the basement, but it's not gloomy. There is some natural light coming from two high-up windows, and there is even a door that opens to a steep flight of steps into the yard.
There's a bathroom down here, too, so I can keep some privacy. I mean, I love Suzanne's husband, Vernon, but it's still weird to have to see him in a towel or vice versa.
But even though I kind of have my own space, I still feel like a teenager again.
"I'm not going to unpack everything," I say to Suzanne.
"Whatever you want to do," she says patiently but with a small furrow of worry between her brows.
"I'm not going to be here for long," I say. "I need to sort myself out, get another job as quickly as possible so I won't be under your feet."
"There's no rush." Suzanne glances around at the room, which was tidy but now looks like a storage unit. "I want you to try to find something that you think is going to be really good for you. Don't rush into a job too quickly and then regret it after a couple of months."