Rosa cuts into my thoughts. “Has he called?”
I stir my cereal. “No.”
I wish it wasn’t sunny outside because there’s a thunderstorm going on inside of me.
She takes a sip from the number one mom mug I gave her and I lift my head. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”
“I feel destroyed and I’m not okay, but I’m sure I will be eventually.” The problem is I don’t know when that will be.
Rosa sets her cup down and squeezes my hand. “If you need me to stay for the next week, I will.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
She lets go of my hand. “But, I’m going to teach you how to make a decent cup of coffee. This tastes like liquid tree bark.”
I laugh. “Then why are you drinking it?”
She shrugs and crooks me a smile. “I figure you’re have a hard enough time, why make it worse.”
****
An hour later, I stand with Rosa at the front door. She props the screen door open with her foot. “Are you sure you don’t want to do something fun today? A random adventure might take your mind off of things.”
“I’ll consider it, but I really think I just need some time alone.”
She tosses her purse over her shoulder. “Well, if you need me you know how to get ahold of me.”
“I’ll text you later anyway.”
She points her finger at me. “You better. I’ll worry if you don’t.”
Rosa walks out the door and I stand on my porch, watching as she treks down my driveway to the booger. “Later!” I call.
My gaze shif
ts to the oak tree in front of house, yellow and orange spots are forming on the jungle green leaves. The dulling colors blind me and a hollowed out hole in the trunk reminds me of how empty I feel inside. I’m a bottomless pit of despair.
After a minute I walk back inside and into the kitchen. I grab my empty cereal bowl and Rosa’s empty coffee cup. Empty. Empty. Empty. Why does everything have to remind me of how I feel?
At the sink, I rinse out my bowl and her coffee cup. Then the doorbell chimes ringing out like church bells on Sunday. I glance at the clock. Rosa must have forgotten something. She’s only been gone for two minutes.
I jog down the hall. “Coming!”
Sometimes I swear Rosa has dementia. She’s always forgetting stuff—always in a rush. I yank the door open and shake my head. “What did you forget, now?”
As I turn my head my breathing stops. My lungs constrict fighting to release the oxygen. “Henry,” I gasp. My stomach is a hive of bumblebees, buzzing and flitting their translucent wings. Swarms of yellow and black making honey. “What are you doing here?”
Tears glisten in his eyes. “I need you,” he tells me.
For a moment time stops. I’m fighting for control between my head and my heart. My head tells me he’s hurt me enough. It tells me not to fall prey to whatever he has up his sleeve. A spider, always managing to lure back into his web of lies, but my heart, my hearts swells and pounds so loud I can feel it my ears. The sight of his tears thrust into me like a spear through the side.
He wipes his eyes. “Can I come in?”
I look over my shoulder into my empty hallway. No mom. No Rosa. And there is no chance I’ll be able to resist him If I do let him in. “No,” I say and step onto my porch, closing the door behind me. “What do you want, Henry?”
He reaches for my hand, but I fold my arms across my chest. “I need someone to talk to.”
I shrug. “So talk.”