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I hope I’ve raised you to do that or by now to trust I knew what I was doing so I’m not tainting your memories of how much I love you. Even from where I am, watching over you with your father finally back at my side.
If I’m not already gone, sweetheart, I’m dying. That’s the long and short of it. I knew it from the moment they diagnosed me, but I was selfish enough to hold on to every scrap of hope you ensured was presented to me because I wanted nothing more than to see the shine of love flicker in your eyes for one more minute, hour.
A single day.
You’re the reason I kept perpetuating the lie of strength when I was ready to let go of this body so many months ago. Your love was better than any medicine. Your fearlessness.
I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become, Fallon. Don’t be afraid to go after what you want in your future. Just be certain you’re making that decision because you chose it to make you happy, to fulfill some deep-seated dream you haven’t had the chance to share, or because you love.
Especially because of love.
Oh, baby girl, I wish I had more time. Just trust your instincts and know I’m always with you where you need me most.
Your heart.
Love,
Mama
“How did you know I’d need you, Mama?” My hands crinkle the edges of the letter as I draw my knees to my chest. What do I want? I know I need to listen to Ethan and give him a chance to fully explain his actions. I can’t move in any direction until I do.
When I receive his incoming text, a large part of me aches. The part of me that’s tired of superficial conversations. The part of me that misses us—even the Ethan and Fallon from years ago. The honesty, the trust, even the pain. At least those emotions I knew were real.
Ethan:
Food should be arriving soon.
Ethan:
ETA 2 min.
Fallon:
Thanks for the heads up and for lunch! :)
I reach the door just in time for the bell to ring. I don’t even realize I’m still clutching my mother’s letter until I go for the knob. I fold it carefully and tuck it in the pocket of my shorts. I fling the door open, ready to find a DoorDash driver holding out a plastic bag.
What I find instead causes air to back up into my lungs.
God, the man can fill out a suit like no other and this one? It’s burned into my brain. The navy blue clings as lovingly to his legs and molds his shoulders as it did at my high school graduation, my college one. It especially looked lovely tossed so cavalierly on the floor of my apartment the first night we made love.
It was the suit he wore the weekend he came to talk to me about my mother’s death.
It’s riddled with memories, good and bad—just like our relationship.
I can’t stop my heart from pounding as I give him a full once-over since his hands are loaded with takeout bags. When I finally find my voice, I drawl, “Well, if I’d known you were coming, let alone dressing as a throwback to my graduation night, I might have unpacked my formal dresses.”
He clears his voice before tentatively asking, “Good surprise?”
I think about my mother’s letter, the one burning a hole in my pocket. A letter where she admits to lying to me out of love. It makes what happened between me and Ethan not so black and white—not so over. Instead of answering his question, I open my arms for him to step into or not.
His choice. His move.
He drops the food and scoops me up. Burying his nose in my neck, we stand on my front stoop for a long time holding onto the past? The present? Hoping for a future? I need to know.
That’s when I’m jabbed in the rib by a sharp edge. The first time it happens, I ignore it. But the second, I start to wiggle out of Ethan’s embrace. Concerned, he rears his head back. “Witch? What is it?”
“I hate to say this…”