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“Will you help me?” I ask. “To fill it.”
I can’t see him but I know instinctively that he’s smiling. “Absolutely.”
I close my eyes then, feeling better already. “Don’t hang up yet,” I tell him.
“I won’t.” I yawn and he chuckles. “Finally getting sleepy? I’m not boring you, am I?”
I laugh. “No, but you are making me feel better.”
“You make me feel better too,” he says.
We both grow quiet and only the sounds of our breaths fill the phone. I don’t feel so alone now. I eventually drift off to sleep, and it’s one of the best nights of sleep I’ve had in a long time. I know it’s because it felt like Ryder was there with me.
Goodbyes suck.
My lower lip wobbles as I look between my mom and dad. I met them for lunch before they have to leave to catch their flight. I don’t want them to go, but I know they have to. It’s such a turnaround of thought compared to when they first arrived. I couldn’t wait for them to leave—practically begging them to go—but they’ve both been there for me through this whole tragic process and I don’t know how am I going to make it without them. I feel like they’ve been my crutch, and now I have to learn to stand on my own two feet.
“Blaire, we’ll visit soon. The baby will be here in no time. Speaking of the baby,” my mom says, crossing her hands under her chin with her elbows on the table, “have you decided on a name?”
I dam my tears back and take a sip of my iced tea. I’ll have to pee in five minutes from drinking the stuff, but it’s so good I can’t seem to stop. “No,” I say, sliding the drink cup away. “I’ve narrowed it down to five.”
“And they are?” she prompts, batting her eyes, practically begging me to spill the beans.
I shake my head. “Not telling.”
She groans and sits back against the booth. “Dan, talk to your daughter.”
My dad raises his hands innocently. “It’s her decision not to tell anyone and you have to respect that.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I flash him a grateful smile.
He tips his head at me. “You two are always conspiring against me,” my mom huffs.
The waitress stops back by our table and gathers up the dirty dishes. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “I want a chocolate shake to go.”
“Whipped cream and cherry?”
“Yes, please.”
“Anything for you guys?” she asks my parents. They shake their heads. “I’ll be right back with that milkshake,” she says with a kind smile.
“So, you’re really going to miss us then, Kid?” My dad asks.
I nod, pulling my hair back into a messy bun and securing it with a hairband. “Yeah, I am,” I say—there goes my lip wobbling again.
My mom reaches across the table. “We’re only a phone call away if you need us,” she assures me.
I nod. “I know.” My mom exchanges a look with my dad. She’s worried about me. She’s worried them leaving will set me back and I’ve been doing so much better. I don’t want her to feel like she has to stay because of me, though, and I know that the best thing for me is for them to go. Then I’ll have to rely solely on myself again. “Don’t worry about me,” I tell her. “I don’t want you to go but I’ll be okay.”
“You’re a fighter, Kid.” My dad tips his drink glass up and crunches on a piece of ice.
“Thanks, dad,” I say.
The waitress returns with my milkshake and the check. I try to pay but my dad insists it’s his treat.
I slide out of the booth and we head outside. The sun blazes above us and the humidity is thick in the air.
