Page 29 of As the Years Pass

As I walk out the door, I remind myself this isn’t the last time I’ll be here, and I can stop by whenever I want.

My house is here. I haven’t decided what I want to do with it, but I need to clear it out and move all my stuff to Seattle, now that I won’t need it here. Something has me holding onto the house, though, and not wanting to sell it just yet. I imagine this is what all those people I helped feel like when they had to sell their properties. Not when they wanted to, but when they had to, for one reason or another.

It sucks.

I don’t want to sell my house. I don’t want to live in Seattle. I want my life to go back to the way it was, only… I really don’t.

I wasn’t happy with Leslie, but I was happy with my life. The house, the wife, the kids, the job. It was perfect, but it was all a mirage. Inside, our marriage was sour, and that trickled down onto everything else.

I’m happier now, just in a different way. There’s still something missing, though.

And maybe, just maybe, that thing is waiting for me in Seattle.

Chapter Eleven

Emmet

I land in Florida right on time, grab my bags, and head to the desk to pick up my rental. My father offered to pick me up, but I told him no. It’s too much work for him.

My stomach is sick the entire drive to their house, each direction from the navigation making the knot tighter. I haven’t seen my mother in months. She wasn’t supposed to still be here, yet by some miracle, she is.

I begged and pleaded with the universe to give her one last Christmas, and I got my wish. I’m not sure I could ever ask the universe for another thing again. But that doesn’t stop me from asking if I’m doing the right thing here.

We’d already said our goodbyes. She told me she didn’t want me here. She told me she wanted me to live my life.

Am I doing the right thing?

My father needs me. That’s why he kept asking me to come, right? Surely Mom will understand that.

When I pull into the gated community, I roll down my window, and the hot Florida air sweeps in like a wool blanket.

“Good afternoon,” the security guard says. There are drips of sweat sliding down his temples. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Emmet Durant. I’m here for Ar—”

“Arnold and Emily Durant,” he finishes. “I have you on the list. Do you need directions?”

“Please,” I say.

He heads into the little building and comes back with a sheet of paper that he holds out so I can see. It’s a map of the community with a red line drawn from here to my parents’ house, which is off to the left and circled.

“This should help you out.”

“Thank you.” I take it and put it on the passenger seat.

“You’ll also need this.” He hands me a tag for my car, stating that I’ll be staying until the 26th.

I give him a nod, and when he opens the gates, I drive through and make my way to my parents’ house. I see it from a mile away, as if the red circle around it is real and not just on paper. I pass it, getting cold feet about stopping and going in to see my mother.

It’s unfair and cowardly. Seeing her is going to devastate me, I know it, and I’m not prepared for that. Though, I’m not sure I ever will be and these seconds are precious for her—for us.

When I reach the end of the road where I’m able to turn left or right, I make sure there are no cars coming and pull a U-turn, then head back to their house and turn into the driveway, parking beside their small Toyota.

I take a deep breath, shut the car off, grab my bag from the back seat, and head to the door. My finger is just releasing the doorbell when the door is pulled open.

My father has aged drastically in the couple months he’s been here, no doubt from the stress. But when he smiles at me from inside his house, a million happy memories assault me, and it’s easier to walk through the front door and see my mother. Having his support, having him with me, will make this all easier.

He holds his arms out and I go to him without hesitation, hugging his frail body. We used to be the same height, but he’s shrunk a little, his body crouched slightly now, and so he seems much shorter. His hair is completely grey, while before it was a good mix of dark brown and grey. I hug him tightly but carefully, not wanting to hurt him.