Instead of pushing him, I sat silently, waiting.
“I’m sorry about your mom. I know what it’s like to be forgotten. But, I won’t forget about you anymore, or torture you, I’m trying to do good, so I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.” He spoke in a determined way, anger still dancing like fire in his eyes, yet a softness overtook his demeanor.
Looking at him, I tried to remember that this is present Caiden, not past Caiden. I thought about his hands, how he touched me. I thought about how he kissed me. I thought about all the nice things he had said to me in the past weeks.
Why was it so hard to believe my own memory? Or to trust him? I wanted to so badly, but there was still a piece of me holding back.
“Okay, I suppose it would be better if you were there. I know I did ask you to come, so thank you.”
The thought of spending hours in a car with Caiden made my stomach twist. I had spent too many years being angry at him, too many years feeling his cruelty like a shadow hanging over me.
Now, here we were, about to embark on a road trip that would force us into close quarters, diving into shared memories I wasn't sure I was ready to face.
We had been lost in the wilderness together, but that was different. That was survival. We were exhausted, starved, traumatized, and hopeless. All we had was each other.
“Are you okay?” Caiden’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I realized I had been staring at the wall, lost in my own head.
“Yeah, just thinking.” I shrugged, trying to dismiss the turmoil. But the truth was, I was terrified. Terrified of facing my past, of my dead mother, of the memories that would flood back as soon as we hit the road. It had been seven years since I last saw her alive.
“Look, Amelia,” Caiden said, his voice softer now, his irritation gone. “I know this is hard for you. It’s a lot to process. But you don’t have to go through it alone.”
I felt the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. “I don’t want to feel anything right now, Caiden. I just want to forget.”
“Well, we don’t have to talk about it. But, I understand what you mean.” He looked at me with that earnestness I had almost forgotten he could have. It made my heart ache in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Okay,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t promise I won’t lose my mind on you.”
“That’s the deal.” He cracked a small smile.
I pushed the sheets away and swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool air brush against my skin. It felt strange to be vulnerable with him, to allow him to see how broken I felt inside. “I don’t know how to do this. To face her corpse after everything.”
“I know,” Caiden said, his voice steady. “But you don’t have to have all the answers right now.”
I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, driving back to bury my mother while trying to reconcile my feelings for the boy who had once been my enemy.
The memories of her flooded back. Her laughter, her anger, the times she’d promised she’d change, only to fall back into the darkness of her addiction.
“Do you think she even cared?” I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I mean, she chose drugs over me. She left me alone.”
Caiden’s expression shifted as he tried to find the right words. “I think she cared in her own way. Addiction is a monster, Amelia. It takes people hostage. But it’s not your fault.”
I felt the familiar anger bubbling up. “But she chose to neglect me, she chose to hurt me. I keep thinking I was a bad daughter.”
“Maybe she was fighting her own battles. It doesn’t excuse her actions, but it might explain them, and you did your best, you did nothing wrong.” He leaned closer, his eyes locked onto mine. “You’re not alone in this. I had a parent with addiction too, except he was a piece of shit whether he was drunk or not.”
I didn’t know how to respond. The truth was, I felt completely alone, even with him sitting right next to me. I was scared of how much I craved his presence, how much I needed someone to lean on in this moment. But I also feared how easily things could fall apart.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I stood, trying to mask the chaos inside me.
“Alright,” he said, standing up and stretching. “I’ll help.”
I gathered everything that I had unpacked and repacked it into my bags that I had from the beach trip.
I could feel Caiden's eyes on me, but I didn’t want to meet his gaze. I was too raw, too exposed, and I didn’t want him to see how fragile I felt.
I thought about my mother. About the years of neglect and disappointment, the hollow promises she made. I was angry and sad, confused about how I should feel. Should I be mourning her, or should I be relieved? I hated this whirlwind of emotions.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. I needed to push through this. I had to be strong. I couldn’t let my mother’s death define me.
