Page 41 of The Road Back Home

The house is empty when I step through the front door three hours later.

Ashton snores in my ear, and the sound is calling something peaceful in the middle of the storm that rages on.

I carry the sleeping child up the stairs to his room and tuck him into bed.

He lets out a soft sigh and relaxes further into the blankets.

Once his lion is tucked between his arm and his body, I sit on the floor next to the bed and watch Ashton sleep.

His upset about my outburst faded with the time that passed and the attention I showered him with while we were gone.

My own feelings toward it are as dark and murky as ever.

I’d half-expected Holden to follow us out of the house.

Or to send text after text demanding answers, especially since I’d taken his car.

Neither happened. My phone stayed silent.

I spent the hours away with Ashton, my heart breaking more the longer I went without any contact.

Tears slip down my cheeks without permission, but I don’t wipe them away. Alone in the dark is the best place for them, and why should I continue to hide what I feel? I’m tired, so bone-deep exhausted, and I don’t want to keep every negative thought and emotion locked away.

Pale moonlight spreads through the room, filling it with a hazy glow, and I can’t help but think of how beautiful it would be if nothing was falling apart.

How can Holden so easily say he loves me if he can just as easily hurt me this way?

I wonder if he notices, if he even cares, how much I’ve been struggling.

The hope that things will get better has only slipped incrementally through my fingers.

Pushing to my feet, I cross the room to the window. The milky light touches everything below, casts shadows that loom ever larger the longer I stare. The darkness outside echoes the one in my chest. I tug the curtains closed as the jagged piece cuts me even deeper.

I go to bed alone. I don’t sleep, and the bed remains empty through the night.

My pillow catches the tears, the ones that remind me of my uncertainty about the status of my relationship.

The other half of the mattress is cold and vast. It overwhelms me with its barren existence, and I lose grip of the final thread of hope.

The alarm goes off at its normal time, and I stare at my phone as it vibrates on the nightstand.

My body weighs too much, my muscles bound by a heaviness, and I yearn to stay where I am.

Eventually, I tap the screen until the buzzing stops, then pick up the device.

The screen is full of notifications but none from the one person I need to hear from.

I sigh and type out a message to my boss, asking if she has time this morning to talk.

Tara replies in the affirmative, followed by a You okay?

I don’t bother replying as I force myself out of bed.

Holden’s hygiene products sit on the bathroom counter, and I gasp in a shaky breath before slamming my hand against the light switch.

The room falls into darkness, and I all but run to the guest bathroom.

I try—god, do I try—but there’s no stopping the sobs that break loose as I lean against the wall.

The drive to work is quiet save for my music streaming app pushing songs through the speakers.

Ashton flips through his search-and-find book, chattering quietly to himself, and I send up a silent thank you for the peace.

Conversation can’t happen, not with the lump in my throat and the stolen breaths that tear at my lungs.

The 80s soft rock song ends, and another begins.

This one starts with rhythmic strumming of a guitar, joined a beat later by a woman’s voice.

She sings of a woman leaving a note in the kitchen questioning why her husband would care if she leaves.

I reach over and press the power button to the stereo. The music cuts off abruptly, and I glance in the rearview mirror. Ashton doesn’t seem to notice the silence as his fingers slide across the laminated cardboard pages of his book. I vow to make things right for him.

For myself, too.

The chorus plays through my head through the meeting with Tara, an endless loop that fills my mind all day.

My coworkers question if I’m okay, and I lie and say I’m fine.

I’m going to be okay. I know it will hurt worse before it gets better, but a light has finally started shining at the end of the tunnel.

Holden still hasn’t called or texted by the time my shift ends. I wave goodbye to my coworkers, the people who’d become friends, and buckle Ashton in his seat. I avoid Josh’s gaze—so concerned, so pitying—as I drive away.

A quick stop at home later, the city melts from sight in the rearview, growing smaller with each miles that’s eaten up by the tires.

I draw in a deep breath. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel when a sob threatens to bubble out of me.

I refuse to cry, to give my emotions control. Not again.

This was a decision borne of my emotions, but it was also made with logic.

This is the best thing for us, for Ashton and me, even for Holden.

The pain will fade with time. Until then, I will put on a brave face and pretend nothing is awry.

That my heart isn’t shattered and left behind on the floor of the home I used to share with Holden.

I’ll fake happy smiles and dry eyes until they become reality. Whenever that is.

The drive grows torturous. Without someone to share the burden, hours seem to pass with the ease of frozen molasses.

The radio crackles with static as I drive through areas with weak signal.

Scenery stretches out for miles around, dry brush and flatlands and a monotonous sweep of beige and green.

My phone rings in its holder every so often, but I never answer.

Talking to anyone, especially those I’m leaving behind, will only cause me to rethink this decision.

Ashton babbles in the backseat for minutes at a time, happily keeping me company. Then he asks about his ’Den, and I’m punched in the gut with the pain again. My voice shakes as I answer him, and I worry he’ll notice, he might realize this isn’t just a drive to the park.

This isn’t really what I wanted. Leaving Holden…

It is the last thing I ever could have imagined willingly doing.

I fell in love, and I thought it would be forever.

That it’s come to this… I hate it. I know I’m not innocent or blameless.

I could have talked to him. I could have fought to keep the relationship alive.

Hell, I should have. But being shown over and over that I wasn’t important enough to fight for had worn down any strength I had left.

I pull off the highway when Ashton has whined for an hour about being in his carseat.

The hotel I stop at looks like one strong gust of wind will knock it over, but I don’t complain.

I can’t complain. I have no other option.

It’s clean enough inside, though a musty odor lingers, and the lights flicker eerily as I tuck Ashton into the center of the bed.

He isn’t placated by my gentle voice and the lullaby I learned before he was born.

Instead, he repeatedly demands to say goodnight to Holden.

I come close to caving but remind myself it’s meant to be a clean cut.

So I resist the urge to call Holden. I put my phone on silent and curl up around Ashton, singing the lullaby over and over until he finally succumbs to sleep.

I, however, lie awake for much longer. The tremulous shadows stretch through the room, broken only by the bathroom light I’d left on.

The unfamiliar bed and the quiet give me permission to cry for the first time since I made the decision to leave.

“How did this all get so fucked up?” I whisper into the night, but my only answer comes in the form of deafening silence.

Everything looks the same as the day I left.

Empty, cold corridors. Heavy metal doors and plaques bearing numbers painted in white.

Overhead fluorescent lights that hum and blank white walls.

Dark stone flooring and pale yellow sunshade on the balcony doors.

Nothing has changed in the months I’ve been away, except for the thin layer of dust on the surfaces.

I set the suitcase by the door and stare around at the apartment I never thought I’d live in again. I knew I’d come back to visit—Austin welcomed me with open arms and became my home, how could I stay away forever?—but this isn’t just a visit. This is me coming home reeking of failure.

I couldn’t make Holden love me enough to not push me away.

I couldn’t be important enough to him. I may have been complicit in the relationship’s end with my inaction, but the fact remains that Holden didn’t fight for me, either.

He showed me I’m forgettable, and I lost a relationship I once prayed to never lose.

Ashton toddles sleepily toward the couch, crawling up onto the cushions, and lets out a heavy sigh.

It isn’t but two minutes later that he’s asleep.

I exhale slowly and run a hand through my hair.

Deciding against moving him, I lock the door behind me and make my way across the room.

He doesn’t move as I lie down beside him on the wide cushion.

I fall asleep trying to convince myself that all I need is him.

Over the next few days, I struggle to settle back in to the city.

It isn’t as peaceful as I’d hoped. My mind revolves around Tennessee, despite my best efforts.

I take Ashton to the park and to the walking bridge over the river, but nothing fully distracts me.

I avoid the coffeeshop I once frequented.

The worst part of it all is the fact I can’t stop myself from searching the internet for news about Holden.

I drink in every article and post on social media.

I can’t stay away from the blog that posted about us on our anniversary.

I torture myself by reading the smug, venomous words that celebrate my absence.

Gossip sites have taken the story and run with it, but nothing cuts as deep as what the blogger has to say.

as quickly as she came into his life, she’s gone just as fast! wonder if our boy kicked her to the curb because she tried forcing him to be her kid’s father. ding dong, bitches, the witch is gone!!

I know the blogger is winning. What I feel right now is exactly what they want.

They want me to feel as small and insignificant as possible, like I’ve intruded on and ruined whatever relationship Holden has with his fans.

The blogger demands that I know my place in the world and it isn’t by Holden’s side.

And damn it all if I haven’t started believing it.

The only thing I can do now, though, is make sure Ashton is happy.

I want this transition to be easy for him.

All I hope for is that he’s too young to remember later just how big a presence in our lives that Holden was.

Once Ashton has acclimated to a life without him, everything will go on as it should.

Holden Lynch will just be a painful memory I will forever carry with me, but Ashton will be fine.

The morning is bright, the heat climbing though not quite unbearable yet, and Ashton waves before crawling up the steps of the play structure.

The playground is full of screeching delight of dozens of kids, mothers and fathers and everything between watching the children.

I settle more comfortably on the bench and smile when Ashton goes down the slide without prompting.

He walks toward me once he’s on the ground and launches himself into my lap.

“You see, An’ Dee?”

“Yeah, baby, I saw. You were a brave boy going down the slide by yourself. I’m proud of you.”

“Coffee, An’ Dee? I coffee?”

I frown. I haven’t been to Rise & Grind since we moved back. I knows if I do, it will bring about questions I’m ill-equipped to answer. The concern from my support system has come in the form of unanswered calls and texts, even from my mother. I wonder if any of them tried to contact Holden.

Shaking my head, I push Ashton’s hair from his face. “You really want coffee, little man?” At his exuberant nod, I sigh. “Then I guess we’re going to get coffee.”

Ashton squeals happily in the backseat when I park in the familiar lot.

I stare through the windshield at the coffeeshop, swallowing against the shame spiraling through me.

How am I going to look my best friends in the eye and admit I’ve lost the one relationship they’ve ever actively supported?

My breath comes out shakily, and I push the thoughts away.

Ashton wiggles, giggling and grinning, as I pull him from his seat. He holds my hand as we cross the lot to the door, and the bell tinkles overhead, announcing our arrival.

“Be right there,” Tristan calls without turning from the espresso machine.

I lead Ashton around the line of customers toward a table. Unfortunately, our trek is interrupted by a voice calling my name. Ashton’s hand tugs from mine, and he’s off, running toward Luci with the agility of a newborn puppy. He giggles even as he falls to the floor.

“Hey, dude!” Luci crows as she scoops him into her arms. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much. How are you? What’cha want today?”

I wave awkwardly when Tristan finishes pulling the espresso shots and turns to look at me.

His lips tug down into a frown, and I shift my weight between my feet before sitting down at a four-top.

Luci joins a moment later, setting Ashton down on the seat across from me.

He immediately tears a chunk off his muffin and stuffs it into his mouth.

I do my best to ignore Luci’s scrutiny, but that effort is wasted when she opens her mouth to speak.

“I love seeing your face, DeeDee, you know this. But why are you here?”

“Because Ash and I want coffee.”

“Don’t be a smartass. You’re supposed to be in Tennessee, living it up with your boyfriend in the land of country music.”

“There’s rap and rock, too,” I protest weakly, and Luci frowns and rolls her eyes. “Stop, Luci.”

“Then tell me why you’re here.”

Ashton turns, holds out a fistful of muffin bits toward Luci. “’Den no home.”

“I’ll explain later,” I whisper at the confused look my friend sends my way.

“Dealla—”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. So can we please just… not?”

Luci, thankfully, lets the subject drop after one last statement: “We’ll come over tonight, okay? We’ll figure out how to fix whatever went wrong.”