Page 99 of Crash

50

BLAKE

The distant city sprawled out like a constellation of stars, its lights twinkling in the velvet darkness, while up here on the terrace, the air was just chilly enough that I’d wrapped Tessa in a cashmere blanket. Our wineglasses caught the soft glow from the string lights overhead, casting ruby shadows on the small table between us.

“Tell me why you’ve always pushed love away?” Tessa repeated her earlier question softly, her voice barely carrying over the muted hum of traffic.

I felt my shoulders tense, that familiar wall rising while my fingers pulled her closer against me, buying time.

“You already know some of it,” I began. “About my parents …” I trailed off, taking a slow breath while Tessa’s fingers brushed my wrist in a gentle anchor to the present.

“The basics, yes,” she acknowledged. “But not everything.”

I nodded, fixing my gaze on the city lights. “I learned early on how quickly life could change.” I paused, swallowing hard. “The first lesson came on Christmas Eve when my sister and I were baking cookies with our grandmother.” My voice grew distant, lost in memory. “Mom and Dad had gone out for some last-minute shopping.” Another pause, longer this time. “I can stillsee my grandmother’s red apron turning white with flour as she wiped her hands to answer the doorbell. But what I remember most is the sound she made when she collapsed after learning her only child had died in a car accident.”

A slight tremor ran through me then, but, as if sensing she needed to be steady, Tessa’s hand stilled as it rested on my leg.

“With my Grandmother’s death, we didn’t have extended family who could take us in,” I continued, hearing the clinical tone in my own voice, using it as armor against the raw emotion threatening to consume me. “So, Faith and I entered the foster system.” I took a long sip of wine, trying to wash away the bitterness of the words. “That first night was when reality hit. I was lying in a bed with a green comforter instead of my football one. Breathing in artificial vanilla instead of the familiar scent of home.”

My head went back in time to that first night.

Lying in bed, I counted the shadows on the ceiling that the streetlight made through the weird-shaped tree outside. That’s when I heard her tiny feet padding down the hallway, the creaky floorboard by my door giving her away. Faith’s shadow looked even smaller than a five-year-old girl’s in the doorway.

“Blake?” Her voice was wobbly, like when she tried not to cry at the doctor’s.

“Hey.” I sat up, clicking on the lamp. The one that wasn’t mine, in the room that wasn’t mine. “Bad dream?”

She ambled closer. “I want to go home.” Her eyes kept jumping around like scared butterflies, not landing on anything in this foreign room for too long. She hugged Mom’s old sweater tight against her chest. The pink one she wouldn’t let the social workers take away.

“I know,” I whispered because what else could I say?

“When can we go home, Blake?” She said it like it was simple, like maybe we just got lost and needed directions to get back.

My throat got tight and scratchy. I patted the space next to me, and she climbed up, her hair still smelling like the baby shampoo Mom used to use. I held her close, trying to be brave enough for both of us, trying to find words that wouldn’t hurt so much.

“We’re never going home again, Faith.”

She pulled back to look at me, her forehead all scrunched up, like she hadn’t fully understood the conversations that preceded this one. Of course she hadn’t. She was only five. How do you understand death at five?

“Never?”

I shook my head. “We have to be each other’s home now.”

Her bottom lip started doing that wobble thing, and her grip on Mom’s sweater got so tight that her knuckles went white. I wanted to fix it so badly. To make everything okay again. But I couldn’t even fix my own heart, let alone hers.

“I miss Mommy,” she whimpered.

Three little words, and everything inside me crumbled like a sandcastle in the rain. Faith’s sobs shook her whole body and mine, too, as I held her. The sweater between us still smelled like home, but home wasn’t a place we’d ever experience again.

A cool breeze brought me back to the present, rustling through the potted plants surrounding us, carrying the faint scent of jasmine.

“Down the hall, my parents weren’t sleeping in their room. They’d never make us breakfast again or take us hiking through national parks like Dad loved to do. They’d never …” My voicedropped, and Tessa shifted even closer, nestling her head onto my shoulder.

How did this woman know exactly what I needed? Her presence, her warmth, a sedation to my pain.

“It was like Faith and I had been launched from a cannon and landed on a different planet. Nothing felt real anymore.” I met Tessa’s gaze briefly as she looked up at me, the compassion in her eyes almost too much to bear.

“Externally, I maintained composure, primarily for Faith’s sake. The first foster family was decent enough.” I worked my jaw silently for a moment. “After a few months, we’d adapted to their routines, their way of life. But grief has a way of seeping through the cracks.”