Page 14 of The Heart Remembers

I weakly smile with the memory of my dad chuckling before helping me. He was always there for me. Always.

“‘Mommy,’ I said louder. She rolled her head and muttered, ‘Five more minutes, Katie.’ Her voice was gruff. Her hand shot out from under the pillow and hit the clock again. I ignored the bottle on the nightstand. She was tired, I thought. She often went out after my dad came home from work and before I went to bed. She’d return in the early hours of the morning, sometimes waking me up.”

In later years, I’d connect the dots to know my mother was having an affair, possibly several. My father didn’t talk about that much.

“‘Katie, I said, five more minutes,’ she grumbled into the pillow, suffocating what sounded like a scream.

“‘It was five minutes, five minutes ago,’ I remember arguing back.

“Fine,” my mom growled and begrudgingly rolled out of bed.

“I remember my mother stumbling to the kitchen in a fog of sleepy confusion, much like I do when I’m woken too early. She dramatically tugged open the cereal cabinet. She slammed the cabinet door after removing a bowl and slapped the bowl in front of me. I flinched. I’m sure I did. She pulled too hard on the refrigerator door, and it shook. When she poured the milk into the bowl, the cereal spilled out with a splash. I started to cry.

“She yelled at me. ‘Stop crying!’ She even swore. I’d heard the words before and only knew they were bad because my dad would correct her.”

Pausing, I take a breath as the memory fills my head, and my heart races with the anxiety surrounding the past.

“I cried harder. I couldn’t help myself, but I tried. I tried so hard to stop. The struggle to suppress the tears was an unwinnable battle. She slapped me across the face.”

I raise a hand as if I can still feel the sting of it imprinted on my cheek. Levi’s been watching me as I share my deepest, darkest secret, but I’m lost to my memories. Sitting straighter, I plow through to the end of my story.

“‘I said. Stop. It,’ she yelled at me with her hands on my shoulders. I tried to apologize, but I couldn’t get myself under control.

“‘Shut up,’ she screamed at me. ‘Just shut up.’ She slapped me on the other cheek, and I froze. I stifled my cries and stopped my words. Then she left. For hours, she was gone before my father found me home alone. I didn’t speak again for years.”

The memory roars to life, real and raw, and I’m still holding my cheek as if the slap happened a moment ago, and the sting still vibrates. I haven’t told anyone that story in years.

“I understand being rejected by the person who should have loved you the most.”

6

[Levi]

“Jesus,” I hiss. I’d been watching her as she told her story. Her face blanching with every detail. This date has certainly taken a sour turn, and I’m shit because I brought us to this point. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl.”

She blinks at the endearment and weakly smiles without a trace of enthusiasm behind it. I want to hold her. I want to tug her to me, cover her with my body, and tell her it was never her. No one could not love that sweet freckled face and those deep blue eyes. Whatever the issue was, it was all her mother, not her as a child, and that woman, whoever she was, missed out on a great adult as well. Katie is an amazing human being.

“Anyway, wow, I didn’t mean to spill all that. That . . . sucked the cool out of this day.”

I chuckle a little at her brush-off of something so serious and painful. Maybe she can handle my darkness, but I still don’t want to taint her light with it.

“The cool out of this day,” I tease.

She shrugs. “Sure. That ride was so fun, so calming, and my story, just . . .” She makes a thumb’s down motion.

“You didn’t ruin anything, and thank you for being so honest. I’m sure that was difficult to share, and I’m honored you told me.” I mean it, I am honored. It’s hard to share your past with someone, especially when you want to make a good impression, and Katie is uninhibited in that manner. It’s refreshing, actually.

She unwraps her sandwich and smiles at it, like I got it right. “Tricia made them.” I can’t really take credit for knowing what she’d like on a sandwich. Tricia’s good at memorizing details about people. For Katie, it’s two slices of turkey and one piece of cheese cut in half on one slice of bread, making it look more like half a sandwich. She also likes cantaloupe and pineapple with strawberries, but no watermelon or blueberries in the mix. Leave it to Tricia to know all the details.

“Anyway, I have a question for you.”

Katie hesitates as she lifts the sandwich for her mouth.

“Why did you ask me all those years ago if I was going to be a hero?”

She lowers the sandwich without taking a bite. “That is not what I thought you would ask me.”

“What did you think I’d ask?”