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I let my grief sink in a little bit at a time.
By day four—or maybe it's five—I'm tired of the stillness. I spend two hours at the gym. I run along the beach. I take off my fucking shoes and dip my toes in the Pacific.
This is as warm as it gets, but it's still freezing.
The smell of salt in the air still
makes me think of Lacey.
That makes it fucking hard to live three blocks from the beach.
But it's okay.
She still does something to me.
Something that feels a lot less terrifying with this grief fading.
Come lunch, Ethan is here. Not just Ethan but everyone— Piper and Kit, Violet, Dad, even Joel and Bella.
Everyone is on the couch downstairs, picking at snack platters on the coffee table.
Ethan smiles at me. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."
"I was up at six," I say.
He shrugs. "Likely story."
"He was." Piper tears a muffin in half. "He woke me up."
"Aww, poor baby," Kit teases.
"It was difficult," she says.
"You need me to kiss it better?" he offers.
She nods.
He leans in to plant a kiss on her lips.
They really are adorable.
Ethan whispers something to Violet then pulls her into his lap. He pats the now empty spot on the couch. "Come and sit."
"This feels like the start of an invitation to a threesome," I tease.
"We all know you're over threesomes." Joel's voice is as bouncy as ever. He nudges Bella. "Too bad, right, angel?"
She blushes but shakes her head. "It's good to see you, Mal. You look—"
"Bad," Joel says. "Pale. Sickly. You must be down to what, two-twenty?"
"About that. Any less and I won't be able to bench three-fifty." I'm not numb anymore. I can feel the buzz of teasing back with my friends. I can feel that maybe Dad will stick around hope in my gut. I'm not sure if I'm glad I'm still able to hope or pissed I haven't eradicated that particular parasite yet.
It's not as strong as it used to be.
I know it's not happening.
The thought of Dad being MIA for the next thirty years doesn't gut me the way it used to.
