Every word I read makes me cry harder, drops of liquid hitting the paper and smearing the ink. And when she ends her letter, she writes something that hits me hard.
I know you’re excited to make your own path, but I must confess I hope one day you find your way back home. I miss you, meu amor, and I will always be here waiting for you.
To some, her words might sound like a guilt trip, but knowing my mom, it was her way of making sure I knew I always had a place to go. That no matter where I ended up, where she and my dad were, was my home.
The letter ends with her signature hugs and kisses. I read through it again, and then a third time, wishing her words would come alive and I could hear them straight from her mouth.
But they don’t. They stay silent, merely ink on a page. And when it hits me that never again for as long as I live will I see my parents, hear their voices, receive a letter or a phone call from them, I slide down the wall I was leaning on and cry, until at some point, the tears dry up and my head throbs so hard, I lie on the cold wood floor and close my eyes, praying when I wake up this will all be nothing more than a nightmare.
Frank: We need to talk.
It’s been days, or maybe weeks, since I’ve said goodbye to my parents, yet it still feels like it was yesterday. I haven’t left my condo since I arrived. I can’t remember the last time I ate or drank anything, or hell, even showered. It all feels like a fucking blur. Frank has called and texted several times, but I keep ignoring him. Whatever he has to say, I don’t want to hear it unless he’s going to tell me my parents are still alive.
The phone rings, his name appearing, and I click end, only for it to ring again.
“How many fucking times are you going to call?”
“As many as it takes,” he says. “Your father left a will and we need to go over it, sooner rather than later. There are things we need to discuss. Decisions that need to be made.”
Shit, I didn’t even think about any of that.
“Fine. I’ll be there soon.”
We hang up and, in a hazy state of fog, I pack a suitcase, unsure how long it’s going to take. I’m driving north on Campus Road, when the bar Noah and I frequent catches my eye. Fuck, how long has it been since we’ve spoken? Days? Weeks? I don’t even know what day today is.
At the next light, I make a quick U-turn and head to his place, wanting to check on him before I leave. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone and the last time I heard from him he’d lost his mom. He doesn’t even know mine are gone as well. I tried to call him to tell him what happened, but he wouldn’t answer my calls, and I wasn’t in a place to be there for him when I could barely take care of myself.
When I get to his apartment, I knock a few times and then try the knob to see if it’s unlocked. Surprisingly, especially since he lives in such a shitty area, it opens.
“Noah, you here?” I call out. When nobody answers, I walk farther in. The living room is empty and so is the kitchen. But his bedroom isn’t.
I find him sitting on the edge of his bed, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. With red-rimmed, glassy eyes and a look of despair, his gaze meets mine. He looks like shit—rightfully so.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he mutters, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a long swig.
I pry the bottle from his hand. “I was trying to get a hold of you. My parents… they were killed a few days after your mom passed away.”
Noah’s lids slowly shut and his head drops, shaking from side to side. “I’m sorry. Life’s a bitch.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me, because he’s right. It is. “I have to go home. Handle a bunch of shit. Why don’t you come with me? It’ll be a change of scenery.” I can use the company, and based on the way he looks, he probably shouldn’t be alone.
He releases a harsh breath and his eyes ascend to meet mine. “You want me to go with you?”
“Yeah.”
He glances around his bedroom. “All right, let’s go. It’s not like I have anything left for me here.”
After he packs a bag, we throw it into my trunk and get on the road. It’s only two hours to Crystal Harbor, where I grew up, and the ride is quick, both of us lost in our own thoughts.