Page 7

“No way. That doesn’t count at all.” He scoffs. “And it’s bullshit. Kel, it’s been thir—” He’s cut off by Fin taking my phone from me, babbling something into the speaker and then pressing the End button and tossing it across the room onto the floor. She’s such a jerk sometimes.
I stare at her only to have her give me a cheeky smile. “Why’d you do that?”
I get no reply, only a finger in my face as if she’s telling me no. At thirteen months old, Finley doesn’t talk. Not even mama or dada. One time we got a “Shhh,” and her pressing Noah’s lips together as if she had been telling him to shut the fuck up. But no actual words. Believe me, though, judging by this kid’s temper and general disposition, I’m thinking it’s for the better.
“Can I wear this?” Hazel asks, coming back into the room.
My eyes fall to Hazel and the pink Texas State shirt she’s wearing. Immediately, I tear up. It hits my nose first, like I’ve been punched in the face or snorted hot sauce. Then my eyes burn, followed by the pain in my chest.
I struggle to whisper, “Yeah, that’s fine, honey.”
Hazel looks down at the shirt, holding it out by the hem away from her body. “Did sissy like this one?”
I nod and brush tears away with the sleeve of my shirt.
Oliver rushes down the hall, his backpack on his shoulders. “I’m going to be late for school.” And then he stops, his feet sliding on the wood floor when he notices the pink shirt. “Why are you wearing that? It’s not yours.”
Hazel stares up at him, tears flooding her eyes. “It was in my room.”
“Take it off.” He hits her shoulder. “It’s Mara’s.”
“Oliver,” I scold and attempt to separate them. “Don’t hit her. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She shouldn’t be wearingherclothes!” he shouts back at me, taking off down the hall, his heavy, angry steps down the stairs echoing off the bare walls in our home.
And just like that, Hazel bursts into dramatic tears. “I’m sorry. I’ll change.”
Great, now everyone is crying but Finley. And I have no idea where Sevi is. He might be outside trying to befriend Ashlynn and her big boobs. Wouldn’t be the first time. He was very mad at me the day I stopped breastfeeding him. He’s my grudge holder. I swear he stares at my chest sometimes as if my tits broke up with him.
Knowing I need to tend to Hazel, I set Finley down on the floor and follow my emotional little girl. I find her digging through the drawers of her dresser, tossing shirts over her shoulder and onto the floor. I frown at the clothes for a moment knowing I’m going to be folding them again.
“I made you sad,” she cries, unable to control her tears.
“It’s okay.” Kneeling next to her, I rub her back. “You can wear it if you want to. Mara would love that.”
She twists in my arms and reaches for my face with her palms. I try to fight back the emotion, but it doesn’t work, and the wave of heartache hits me hard. Before I can stop it, I’m sobbing and holding Hazel to my chest. It’s not the shirt. It’s the fact that I will never hold Mara like this again. She’ll never wear this shirt again or smile at me and tell me Texas State is where she’s going to go to college. She won’t do any of that because she’s gone. No one ever wants to talk about losing a child. It’s the greatest loss there is and nothing in the world will ever compare to that pain. Nothing.
Pulling back, tears stream down Hazel’s pink-tinted chubby cheeks. “She won’t be mad at me?”
I shake my head, breathing in deeply. “No, honey. She won’t. Mara loves you and wants you to remember her.”
Nodding, Hazel closes the distance between us once again and wraps her arms around me. For a moment, I forget it’s Hazel and not Mara hugging me. With my eyes closed, they feel the same, smell the same, and if I pretended, even for a moment, that this is me getting just one more hug from her, it’s enough to get me through the breakdown even a year later.
Hazel was four when Mara passed away, and though she certainly remembers her, it’s Oliver who’s far more aware and protective of anything that was hers. While I can hardly look at a photograph of her these days without breaking down, and Noah won’t even mention her name, it’s Oliver who still sleeps with her picture under his pillow.
And here you thought this was going to be a story about two people struggling in their marriage like a romantic comedy. It is, but something led us here. Sadly, this is it. Losing a child makes you question your entire existence in the world and every single relationship in it. What makes you angry suddenly doesn’t anymore, and the little things you fussed over before, they no longer hold value. It’s the reason behind the strain in our marriage, the move from Texas to California, and the distance between us and Noah’s family. It’s the reason I haven’t seen my mother in a year, and everything ties back to that one day when everything about our lives changed.
Hazel releases her hold on me and then smiles, her eyes over my shoulder. “Who is she talking to?”
I follow her stare to find Finley walking down the hall, now naked, her diaper slung over her shoulder like it’s a goddamn shawl and my cell phone pressed to her ear babbling to someone on the other line. “Probably Daddy.”
Four
The HOA
(It’s secretly a cult. Don’t join it.)
Work goes by extremely slow,but maybe it’s just me who thinks that because I do stay busy the entire day. Can you guess what I do for a living? Given the bits of information I’ve thrown at you so far about high school and college, you’re thinking I’m a football player, right?