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When I send the mail out the next morning, I let go of my expectations with it. Whatever will be, will be. I can’t control the outcome—I can only control my own actions and emotions.
I’m happy.
I’m worthy.
I’m healthy.
I’m strong.
I’m proud of myself.
I’m going to be the Phoenix my father always knew I could be.
20
James
Goingthrough Phoenix’s family belongings the other day made me want to go through my mother’s boxes.
Guilt rises in my gut as I gaze down at all of her old stuff. “It’s sad, isn’t it? That we’ve kept her hidden away in a box all this time?”
“We thought it was best for Dad. But now I’m not so sure.” Leo glances up at me. “Do you think he’d want to see all of this?”
“I don’t know, but we can ask him. He might like to remember these pieces of her.”
“How do you remember the good without remembering the bad?”
I shrug because I still haven’t figured out how. “Maybe we don’t need to forget the bad. Maybe that’s where I’ve gone wrong all this time. Maybe we should remember Mom for all that she was—the happy and the sad parts, because that’s who she was.”
Leo smirks. “Being with Phoenix has done you some good, big bro.”
“She makes me want to be better. She makes me think about everything in a way I never did before.” I brush my fingers over the satin strap on Mom’s apron. “I wish I knew her when Mom was still alive, so I could’ve tried to understand her more.”
Leo nods. “I wish we could’ve done a lot of things differently, but that doesn’t mean it would’ve made a different outcome.”
“You’re right.”
Leo tosses another picture onto the pile. “You tell her you love her yet?”
My heart wrenches in my chest. “No.”
“Don’t be a chickenshit. She needs to hear that.”
I scoff. “I’m not being a chickenshit. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”
“There is no right moment. Look at what we’re doing right now.” He gestures to Mom’s things sprawled out on the floor around us. “This should serve as your reminder that life is short, and you shouldn’t hold back from the things you want to say and do.”
“I’m not like you.”
He rolls his eyes. “I know. You don’t have to tell me how superior you are.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what?”
“I’m not fearless like you. I’m cautious and scared, and I worry about the outcome of every move I make.” I swallow. “I wish I could be more like you.”
Leo’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “You think I’m fearless?”
