Page 87 of Hate You to Love You

I feel empty. Was it my own fault? I’d been pushing everyone away. My friends, Mum, even Elliot – because the closer I was to someone, the more it would hurt when they left. Maybe Jones did have a point. If I wanted the people I cared about to stay in my life, I’d have to stop running away from them.

I take out my phone to call myself an Uber and choose the first suggested address in the search bar.

I’m going home.

chapter forty-three

Rain thuds on the car windows as the Uber pulls into the street of my childhood home. As I walk up to the front door, I notice the For Sale sign on the driveway now has a Sold sticker, and I’m not sure if it’s tears or rain streaming down my face. Pressure builds in my chest at the realisation that the house has officially been sold, but I refuse to let my feelings about that get between me and Mum.

After several frantic knocking attempts, she finally opens the door. Her chin trembles.

‘Anak,’ she says in surprise. ‘Get out of the rain, you are going to get sick!’

She pulls me in, and the tender touch of her hands feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket. She pushes past stacks of labelled boxes on her way into the bathroom to grab me a towel, and anguish creates a knot in my stomach at the thought of how hard it must have been for her, packing up the place alone. I can hear her sniffle as she welcomes me home.

‘Here,’ she says, wrapping me tightly in a towel. ‘Do you want some tea? Or soup? I could make you some soup.’

I glance around the living room. It has never looked so empty. ‘Some tea would be nice,’ I say.

Mum retreats to the kitchen and I rub the towel over my hair, making my way down the darkened hallway. The soft sound of rain falling on the roof keeps me calm. I push open the door of my old bedroom, expecting to find all my belongings in boxes. But it looks exactly the same as it always did. My bed is still made up. The books I fell in love with as a teenager – The Summer I Turned Pretty, Anna and the French Kiss, Looking for Alaska – remain on my bookshelf. From the Taylor Swift poster above my bed to the 5 Seconds of Summer one on the opposite wall and the faded Mickey Mouse stickers on the cupboard, the room echoes with years of memories.

I shuffle towards the bed and lie down on my side. I close my eyes tight and try to bring up the dream that’s haunted me for so many nights over the years. Dad, sitting silently at the dining room table. He might not be able to speak, but maybe he can hear me.

‘I’m sorry we didn’t have more time together,’ I whisper. ‘I love you, even if I didn’t say it enough.’

Tears fall down the side of my face, and I grip the pillow tightly. ‘Thank you for making me the person I am, Dad. You taught me to live with love.’

I’ve still got my eyes shut, imagining Dad at the table. He doesn’t react to anything I’ve said, but I’d like to think that he knows how much he means to me.

I let out a long, deep breath, and a feeling of relief washes over me. Have I been holding on to the grief, or has the grief been holding on to me? I know I need to let go of the past, let go of this house, but I can always hold on to the memory of my dad’s love. I can take his warmth and live the rest of my days with it. He might not be with me, but I still have his smile. I have his love for movies. Mum and I can still share his favourite meals. He is a part of me, and no amount of time passing can change that.

The door squeaks open and Mum peers into the room. ‘Anak?’ she asks, rushing over to the bed. ‘Are you starting to feel sick?’

Her intense care makes me chuckle. ‘No,’ I say with a smile. ‘It’s just… my room. It’s the same.’

She sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed. ‘This is your home too. I never wanted to let it go without you getting a chance to say goodbye.’

I pull the pillow tightly towards my body again. If being in this room was enough to rip open my heart, what was putting the house up for sale like for my mum?

‘Mum?’

‘Yes?’

‘Are you okay with selling the house?’

She blinks at me with watery eyes. ‘I am.’

‘How do you let go of the memories we made here?’

Mum brings her hands up to cover mine. ‘House or no house, the memories will never go away. One day, they might fade. But I spent thirty-four wonderful years with your dad. Nothing can ever change that. I’ll carry the life we had together in my heart every day I have left to live.’

‘I miss him,’ I say.

‘I miss him too.’

I let go of the pillow and take her hand in mine. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me,’ I say. ‘I thought not being here would make letting this place go easier. Actually, I thought it would make it less real.’

‘It’s okay, anak,’ she says. ‘You’re home now.’