Page 14 of Before We Break

Aunt Penny’s quivering hand cups my cheek. “You survived before me, Cici. You’ll survive long after I’m gone.”

“Don’t speak. You need to save your energy to fight this thing.”

Penny was diagnosed with late-stage uterine cancer nine months ago. By the time they caught it, it was already spreading. After another three-week stint in the hospital, Aunt Penny asked to be discharged so she could pass at home surrounded by all of her things.

She shakes her head, her tired eyes searching mine. “I can’t fight anymore.”

The burn of fresh tears stings my eyes when it dawns on me. She’s trying to say goodbye.

“Please don’t leave me. Everybody leaves.”

“Then you need to be the one who stays.” She takes my hand in hers, offering comfort when I should be strong enough on my own. “I would stay if I could, my darling. I’d live forever if it meant I could stay by your side and watch Lexi grow up, but it's not up to me.”

She pulls her hand away, leaving behind a shiny new penny. “Find a penny, pick it up all day long, you'll have good luck.” She recites the all-too-familiar poem like it’s going to be any sort of consolation. “Find my lucky pennies, and you’ll know I’m watching over you.”

We always loved finding them on the sidewalk—it became a sort of tradition for us, but it just won’t be the same without her.

I tuck the penny into the pocket of her overalls. “You need it more than me.”

“Luck isn’t going to save me now, but I will go happily,” she says. “Knowing I have loved and been loved is enough for me. You and Lexi gave me the family I never thought I would have.”

She settles back in her rocking chair with her blanket draped across her lap and her feet propped up on the ottoman. “I think I’ll rest now,” she signs. “I’m tired.”

The dream fades just as Aunt Penny did. She only lived two more days before she quietly passed in her bed, the way she always wanted. I don’t know what’s worse—the dreams about my childhood back in New Jersey with Rodney at the forefront, or the ones where I relive my last days with Aunt Penny. I suppose it doesn’t matter; they both leave behind a hollow ache that can’t be filled. I’ll always be grieving the childhood I never had, and the woman who did everything she could to make up for it. Sometimes waking is worse than the nightmares.

I sit up in bed and wrap my favorite quilt around my shoulders—the one Aunt Penny gifted me years ago with orange, yellow, and pink windmills hand-sewn out of thrifted fabrics. She was incredibly crafty and loved creating things out of thrift store finds. She called it treasure hunting.

I pad through the apartment, stopping to peer into Lexi’s bedroom. A sliver of light illuminates her serene face. There’s some solace in the knowledge that by some miracle I’ve given her the life I wasn’t afforded—a childhood free of pain. Losing Aunt Penny was hard for her, but we prepared her as best we could, and she knows Penny is at peace now. I don’t know what comes after this life, but even nothingness would be better than endless suffering.

Tears cascade down my cheeks. The memories continue to haunt me even when I’m wide awake. As if my feet have a mind of their own, I head for the entrance. The apartment door snicks closed behind me, and I tiptoe into the hallway, colliding with something hard and unforgiving. “Oof.”

Strong hands grip my shoulders for only a second before they disappear again.

“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t think anybody would be out here.” I swipe at my tears and do my level best to plaster on a smile.

Inhaling a fortifying breath, I open my mouth to apologize for my behavior the other morning, but before I can get the words out, Noah’s brows draw together. “What do you have to be sad about? Did your glitter factory explode or something?”

I channel a little of Aunt Penny’s fierceness and round on him. “Do you always have to be such an asshole? Who raised you?”

His eyes darken, and his jaw ticks. “Princess Clio. Always so fucking perfect. You wouldn’t know hardship if it bit you in the ass.”

“Screw you, Noah Weston. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Thank fuck for that.” He storms off in the opposite direction, disappearing from view.

I scoff. “And to think I was going to apologize.”

My chin quivers as I make my way down the stairs to sit on the front stoop, the night air soothing a little of the residual tension. Guilt swamps me, but I tamp it down. He was rude to me first, so what if I gave it right back to him?

God, I sound like a petulant child.

A glint catches in my periphery, and my heart skips a beat. I reach for the bright copper penny and clutch it in my fist like I could will her to speak to me somehow, but it never works. I have dozens of lucky pennies now, and no matter how many I collect, nothing will fill the hole she left in my life.

When I moved in with Aunt Penny, I was already six months pregnant with Lexi. She was this eccentric, lightning bug of a woman on her third divorce from the same man, and she swore it would stick this time—it did. Without a second thought, she took in a pregnant teenager and loved me like I was her own.

I called her Aunt Penny, but she was more of a mother to me than my own ever was. When Lexi came along, she doted on her. Everything I learned about motherhood, I learned from her. She may not have had any children of her own, but she was a mother to anyone who needed it.

If she could see me now, what would she say? Would she be proud of me? She always encouraged me to find Callie and rebuild our relationship. I wish I could tell her I at least accomplished that.