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Was Tristan there?
Yeah, it was nice to see him.
Cool. Always wonder if he’s doing okay after leaving the group.
Yeah, think so. His boyfriend, West, wasn’t there. But Tristan looked happy, settled…is that the right word? I just know I want to get to that place too.
You will.
You will too.
I swallowed roughly.
Thanks. So, what are you up to now?
Hanging with Grant.
I’ll let you get back to it, old man.
I’ll kick your ass.
I laughed, which felt good.
Only if you can catch me. Better get your butt on that treadmill.
Ugh, don’t remind me. Been slacking.
I hear you. See you at group?
Definitely.
Awesome. Until then.
Night.
I ended up watching an action movie Carmen would’ve hated. And she would’ve still sat beside me with her glass of wine and one book or another… Fuck, I missed her. Missed feeling her warmth beside me. It was the exact reason I didn’t wash her favorite sweater for months. It still smelled like her perfume.
When the scent began fading, it gutted me, so I knew it was time to move on. I cried when I put it in the washer. But the memory was still there, and I realized that was better than the torment the actual object caused. Instead of bringing comfort, it left this deep ache inside my soul.
And that wasn’t healthy at all.
I headed to bed, turning on the fan to block out the silence then cutting the lights.
3
Delaney
I clocked out of work then headed home to shower and change. I’d spent way too much time threading wire through the wall in a crawl space today where it was stifling hot. If I were claustrophobic, I likely wouldn’t have been able to complete the job.
“How was school?” I asked Grant, who was at the kitchen table with his laptop, completing a homework assignment.
“Fine,” he said, and I bristled. The school could’ve caught fire, and his answer would’ve still been fine with little other added information, but I wasn’t going to push it. Not today.
“I’ll heat up the leftover lasagna while I shower,” I said, noting that he was wearing a plain hoodie today as opposed to yesterday when he’d donned one of those Victorian-era ascots with a button-down shirt. “I’ll need to head out after we eat.”
“To your group?” he asked, though I’d already reminded him last night. But his nose had been stuck in his phone, so maybe he hadn’t been paying attention. Except by now, he knew the group met the second Tuesday of every month. There was also one geared toward kids who’d lost parents, but he’d opted to see a therapist on his own instead, one his pediatrician had recommended after a particularly brutal night where he couldn’t seem to stop shaking or crying. The therapy seemed to help provide him a safe space for his turbulent feelings. Much like I felt about my group, only there were more people with similar feelings, and that was a comfort all its own.
“Yep,” I replied, opening the fridge and pulling out the pan of lasagna I made over the weekend. “I’ll be home right after.”
“I can do that,” Grant said, pushing from his seat and reaching for the pan. He’d been ultra helpful in the kitchen, which seemed to be an outlet for him as well. “Ellie’s gonna come over after dinner to work on our class project and stuff.”
“Stuff? Like computer gaming?” I said, and he rolled his eyes.
“We’re creating a really cool world,” he replied in that animated tone he only used when discussing history or hobbies. Rebecca and I would share a secret smile whenever he was expounding on something, like the elaborate maps he enjoyed creating. “You know how absorbed we get.”
“Of course I know. I was only teasing,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “Remember the rules: Stay downstairs when you’re home alone. No bedroom.”
“You don’t need to keep reminding me,” he replied, clearly exasperated. “Besides, we’re only friends. You’re so—”
“Don’t even say it, Grant.” I gripped the counter, my knuckles turning white. “All parents have rules. End of discussion.”
“Fine,” he bit out as I strode out of the room. There was that word again.
I’d admit that at one time, we wondered if Grant had a crush on Ellie and that was why he wanted to hang out with her so much. Thus, the beginning of rules for guests. Turned out, they were only friends with similar interests, which was nice to see. Recently, someone else from school began gaming online with them too. I’d only met Jeremy once, and he seemed like a nice kid, but the same rules applied, especially when they were home alone. It didn’t seem unreasonable to anyone but Grant, and likely he would complain purely for the purpose of disagreeing with me. It’d gotten worse after Rebecca passed, as if he was taking out all his frustration and grief on me. I’d hoped we’d cross some threshold eventually, but then hormones and teen angst took over, so here we were.
