Page 12 of Right Where You Left Me

Emma

T oday has been one of the shittiest days I’ve had in a very long time.

The cafe is closed, thankfully, and I had planned on keeping my mom distracted while we spent the day together.

I was going to make us a fancy breakfast and take her to the city for a spa day.

A nice lunch out before we drove home, grabbing take out and watching junk TV the rest of the evening.

Anything to keep her occupied so that she didn’t fall apart today.

It took me longer to get out of bed, the sadness weighing heavy in my bones, but I managed.

I got myself dressed and headed downstairs to find the house still dead asleep.

No lights on, no mom watching TV on the couch with her coffee.

I let out a breath and walked back upstairs, knocking softly on her bedroom door.

She didn’t answer and her soft sniffling had me moving, wrapping her up in a hug underneath her covers while she cried.

It’s my dad’s birthday.

Our sixth without him.

Grief is a weird thing. It almost feels tangible on days like today.

It’s a heavy weight sitting on top of us, keeping us pinned down in its grasp.

I tried to get her to get up and do the things I planned.

I tried to talk her into, at least, eating breakfast with me.

She refused it all, telling me she didn’t need to eat.

I ended up bringing her a tray with a bowl of fruit and yogurt and a cup of coffee.

I sat with her while she nibbled and wept and I felt so fucking useless.

I miss him so much, and days like today it feels like the loss is fresh.

We laid in her bed for a few hours before she told me she wanted to be alone for a bit.

I didn’t push her. She shouldn’t be alone, but I’m not going to make her more upset.

I worked in the house, organizing junk drawers and prepping food for later.

It was another hour before I decided I was going to deal with my own grief over the day.

I set off to the candy store. My dad and I had a tradition every year for his birthday.

He would take me out, grab a treat from the candy shop downtown and then grab a slice of chocolate dream pie from the diner.

We did it just the two of us, and once Sage and I met she tagged along too.

It was such a silly thing, but it meant so much to me.

Running into Sage wasn’t on my agenda for today, and the cold shoulder I got was just too much with everything else I was feeling.

I didn’t mean to grab for her, to reach out for the comfort I knew she wouldn’t give me.

I felt like I was full of water, my skin full of cracks barely holding it all inside.

I just needed my friend, the one person who knew him like I did too.

But that person is gone, and the look on Sage’s face when she turned to look at me proved that.

I was embarrassed and broken and I ran away like I did all those years ago.

And now, I’m sitting alone in the booth my dad and I always sat in, putting Swedish fish on top of a piece of pie like birthday candles. I smile at it, even as the tears burn my eyes, and make a wish like he always told me to even though it was his birthday.

I’m reaching for one of the gummies when I hear her. “This seat taken?”

“No.” I rasp, watching Sage lower herself onto the seat across from me.

She’s smiling softly at me and it feels like I’m dying a little bit inside.

She hasn’t looked at me like this in such a long time.

If I let myself, I can pretend that no time has passed between us, that I didn’t run away from her.

“Did you make your wish?” She asks softly. And it sets off the waterfall that has been building all morning. Tears track down my cheeks as I shake my head.

“I was just about to.” I choke out. “But I don’t know what to wish for. I want to wish for him to be here with me, for him to be here for my mom. It’s not fair that he’s gone.”

“It’s not.” Sage says soothingly. “I’m sorry you lost him, Em. He was a really great person. I’m really happy I knew him.”

I nod. “Me too…” I lock eyes with her, and they aren’t the cold, violent storm of anger I’m used to.

It’s like we went back in time and I’m sitting with my best friend again.

It has me crying even more. I know she just feels bad for me, that she’s here out of pity.

But, I’ll take it if it means I’m not spending this moment alone.

I reach for one of the fish and close my eyes. I wish things could be fixed, that it isn’t too late to mend things. I open them and find her staring at me, an emotion flickering across her face that I can’t decipher. “Your turn.” I say.

She grabs a fish, scrunches her eyes tightly shut.

It makes me laugh and her mouth tilts up when she hears it.

She shoves the gummy in her mouth before she opens her eyes and cringes.

“That is still as nasty as I remember it tasting.” She says lightly.

“Swedish fish and chocolate pudding do not mix well. He couldn’t have picked a candy that meshed? ”

I smile down at the pie and remember me asking my dad that same thing. “He said why would he pick something that wasn’t his favorite just because his two favorites didn’t go together?”

“Sounds like him.” She says with a chuckle.

We sit there together for a little while longer, sharing the slice of pie and telling our favorite stories about my dad.

It’s healing, in a way. Talking about him with her.

Sharing the grief that tried to rip me apart earlier today.

I’m grateful she came over, hopeful that this means we can find our way back to friendship.

“Thank you.” I say when the pie is gone and we’ve run out of stories. “You didn’t have to hang out with me, but I appreciate it. Today started off so horribly, and you— just, thank you Sage.”

“It’s nothing.” She says softly. She stands offering me a small smile before she taps the table with her knuckles. “Happy birthday, Doug.”

My mom is wrapped up in a blanket on the couch watching a movie when I get home.

Her eyes are swollen from her crying, but I’m glad to see she’s finally out of bed.

I walk over to her and snuggle in close.

She wraps her arms around me and we lay there together, watching the random indie film she picked until it’s over.

“I’m so lucky I have you, my girl.” She says when the movie ends, kissing the top of my head. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mom.” I hug her tightly, burrowing into her and soaking in the smell that’s so uniquely her and home. “I’ll make us something to eat.”

We spend the rest of the day, snacking and watching my dad’s favorite movies until we both crash for the night.

In the morning, I wake up feeling a little better. I get ready for work and actually feel hopeful for the work day. I feel like the moment I shared with Sage helped mend things, at least a little bit. It was a step in the right direction at least.

The cafe is dark when I get there, as it always is because my day starts at four a.m. I get the kitchen going, pastries prepped and thrown in the oven. This part of the work day always goes by quickly, when it’s just me in my own little world. It’s my favorite part of the morning.

My stomach starts flipping with nerves as it gets closer to seven.

Piper called to let me know Sage was opening this morning and she’d be in later.

I don’t want to say I’m excited to see her because I don’t want to get my hopes up that she’s finally going to let me back in, but I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little bit.

The bell over the door rings at six fifty a.m. and I hurry out into the cafe to catch her. I smile and my stomach falls to my feet when she glares at me.

We’re apparently not on our way to friendship like I thought. We’re going to pretend that yesterday didn’t happen.

Wonderful.

I push the hurt and emotion down, it’s my fault for getting my hopes up, and head back to the kitchen without another word.

I let myself get lost in the routine of my job, and let the morning pass me by.

Not letting myself think about the girl in the cafe, and the moment of softness she let me have.