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I missed him.
It killed me to admit that to myself, but I did.
I missed his smile. His laugh. His warmth. Everything.
I needed to move on, though. I couldn’t live in the past forever, and that’s all he was to me.
I knew I would never love anyone else, and I couldn’t see myself with another man, but I needed to move on in some way. It would help if I could focus on school and the kids, but it was impossible. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block Trenton from my thoughts. Thoughts of him always popped up when I least expected it.
I drove home, keeping the radio silent. I couldn’t remember the last time I listened to music, because even a song could trigger a painful memory that I was trying so desperately to avoid.
When I stopped in the driveway, the house was dark,
the only light was the one shining in the kids bedroom window.
I grabbed my backpack, locking my car.
I stepped inside the house and found Ivy and Tristan waiting for me. They stood in the darkened living room by the door, waiting for me.
“Uh…what’s going on?” I asked, easing the door closed. I was irked by their strange behavior.
“Mom’s cold,” Ivy whispered.
“What do you mean?” I asked, fumbling through the dark for a light.
“She’s cold,” Ivy repeated. “I think she’s sick. She won’t wake up.”
Oh, shit.
I finally got the light on and rushed over to the couch my mom always occupied. Ivy was right, she was cold. Too cold. Her skin had turned an icky blue gray color and her eyes were closed, giving the impression that she was sleeping. I knew better though. It didn’t take any medical training to figure out that she was dead. I still felt for a pulse, but no fluttering met my fingers.
“Ivy, bring me my phone,” I kept my tone as calm as I could. “It’s in my purse.”
“Is sumfing wrong wif mommy?” Tristan asked, his words unrecognizable than from his tears.
“She’s not feeling well,” I explained, not sure how to tell him that she was dead.
Ivy handed me my phone. I dialed 911 and pressed the phone to my ear. “Ivy,” I took the girl into my arms, hugging her, “I want you to take Tristan to your room and play for a little while, okay?”
She nodded. “She’s dead…isn’t she?” Ivy whispered in my ear.
I nodded. There was no point in lying to her.
She reached her hand out for Tristan’s and spoke to him sweetly as she coaxed him out of the room.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Uh…” What the heck was I supposed to say?
“Ma’am, what’s your emergency?” The operator asked again.
“I-uh-my mom, she’s dead. An overdose, I think,” I muttered, feeling so exhausted.
And shouldn’t I have been sad? Or remorseful? Something? The woman who was my mom was dead and I didn’t even feel like crying. I’d stopped caring about her a long time ago and after everything she’d done to me I felt nothing but relief at her passing.
“What’s your address?”
I rattled it off.
