Reminders of Him

She’d remember me.

And then, by the time I got out of prison for kidnapping her, she’d be an adult. And she’d probably forgive me, because who wouldn’t appreciate a mother who would risk going back to prison just to experience one good week with their daughter?

The only thing preventing me from taking her is the possibility that Patrick and Grace might change their minds someday. What if they have a change of heart and I get to meet Diem without having to break the law to do it?

And there’s also the fact that she doesn’t know me at all. She doesn’t even love me. I’d be ripping her from the only parents she knows, and while that might sound appealing to me, it would more than likely be horrifying for Diem.

I don’t want to make selfish decisions. I want to be a good example for Diem, because someday she’ll find out who I am and that I wanted to be in her life. It might be thirteen years from now before she’s able to decide for herself whether or not she wants anything to do with me, and for that reason alone, I’m going to live the next thirteen years in a way that will hopefully make her proud.

I snuggle up to Ivy and try to fall asleep, but I can’t. There are so many thoughts swimming around in my head, and none of my thoughts ever settle. I’ve had insomnia since the night Scotty died.

I spend my nights awake, thinking about Diem and Scotty.

And now, thoughts of Ledger are added to the mix.

Part of me is still so mad at him for intercepting me at their house this past weekend. But part of me feels a sense of hope when I’m around him. He doesn’t seem to hate me. Yes, he regrets kissing me, but I don’t care about that. I don’t even know why I asked him that question. I just wonder if he regrets it because he was Scotty’s best friend, or because of what I did to Scotty. Probably both.

I want Ledger to see the side of me that Scotty saw so that I might have someone on my side.

It’s really fucking lonely when the only friends you have are a teenager and a kitten.

I should have made more of an effort with Scotty’s mom when he was alive. I wonder if that would have made a difference.

The night I met Scotty’s parents was probably the strangest night of my life.

I’d seen families like theirs on television, but never in person before. I honestly didn’t know they existed. Parents who got along and seemed to like each other.

They met us in the driveway. It had been three weeks since Scotty had been home, and they looked like they hadn’t seen him in years. They hugged him. Not like a hello hug, but an I missed you hug. A you’re the best son in the world hug.

They hugged me, too, but it was a different hug. Quick, hello, nice to meet you hug.

When we went inside the house, Grace said she needed to finish up dinner, and I know I should have told her I’d help, but I didn’t know my way around a kitchen, and I was afraid she’d smell the inexperience on me. So instead, I stuck to Scotty’s side like glue. I was nervous and I felt out of place, and he was the closest to a home that I could get.

They even prayed. Scotty said the prayer. It was so earth shattering for me to be sitting at a dinner table, listening to a guy thank God for his meal and his family and me. It was too surreal to keep my eyes closed. I wanted to take it all in, to see what other people looked like as they prayed. I wanted to stare at this family because it was hard to wrap my head around the idea that if I married Scotty, this would be mine. I would have these parents, and this meal would be something I helped cook, and I’d learn how to thank God for my food and for Scotty. I wanted it. I craved it.

Normalcy.

Something I was wholly unfamiliar with.

I saw Grace peek up right at the end of the prayer, and she caught me looking around. I immediately closed my eyes, but at that point Scotty said, “Amen,” and everyone picked up their forks, and Grace already had an opinion of me, and I was too scared and too young to know how to change it.

It seemed hard for them to look at me during dinner. I shouldn’t have worn the shirt I had on. It was low cut. Scotty’s favorite. I spent the whole meal hunched over my plate, embarrassed about myself and all the things I wasn’t.