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“Love you too. Kiss my godson for me.”
“I will.”
And then she hung up the phone. Tash’s words replayed in my mind.It’s okay to cry. I knew it was okay to cry, but I didn’t feel like I wanted to, nor did I need to. Monica dying was unexpected, yes but I didn’t feel sad. I felt numb.
When I looked out the window, I saw that we were drawing closer and closer to my childhood home. The place looked familiar and new all at the same time. The last time I had been on this road was when I was 18 and hauling my bags to the nearest bus station.
I remembered the day like it was yesterday. It had been raining the night before, and grey clouds covered the sky which was a norm for Riverroad. I had been up all night contemplating my next few choices in life.
I quickly shook away the thoughts. I didn’t need to be looking into my past. This was not the time nor was it the place for me to be going down roads that had already been explored.
My driver came to a stop in front of the quaint little home. I knew both Monica and Ethan had been living here, but I knew it was Ethan who kept up the house. He had redone the porch and the house was now a neutral cream instead of the pale blue it had once been.
He had even put flowers along the foundations of the house. I could see an array of different colored flowers that were oddly in bloom for this time of year. We were well past fall and winter was creeping in. Thanksgiving was in about four weeks, and I had no intention of being here that long.
My cab driver looked back at me when he stopped the car completely.
“You are Monica’s girl, aren’t you?”
My blood turned to ice in my veins. This is what I hated about Riverroad. It was a small town. Everyone knew everyone which also meant that everyone was in everyone’s business. I escaped that and now, even though it was only for a few days, I had been thrust back into it.
I nodded, unable to speak. The look on his face told me everything. Sympathy and silent judgment painted his face. Everyone knew my mom as the town junkie. She had crumbled when my dad passed, and after the tragedy, she just never seemed to recover. Her form of therapy was found in white powders and needles.
I pulled out some bills from my wallet and handed him the money.
“No, please keep it. You are Monica’s girl, after all.” He smiled softly. “I’m so sorry for your loss, by the way. Your mom was a good woman.”
No, she wasn’t, but I kept that little comment to myself.
“Thank you,” I said out of kindness, even though I didn’t feel any kind of loss at all.
“If you need anything, you can just call me on this number.” He handed me a small card. “The name’s Fredrick, but everyone calls me Freddie. Would you like help with your bag?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I got it. No need to trouble yourself. Thank you for the ride.”
I got out of the car and took my medium-sized luggage with me. I had probably overpacked for a four-day trip, but I didn’t know what kind of weather I would come to, so I packed for almost every occasion and situation.
I could see Ethan’s car in the driveway, so I knew he was home. My flight had come in earlier than expected, and I didn’t want to bother him so early in the morning. I walked up the porch; my mind feeling hazy as all the memories came rushing back to me.
“You can do this. You can do this,” I chanted to myself, “It’s just four days, then you can go back home.”
I steeled my back and walked up the porch steps. I came to the door and knocked a few times and waited. I knocked again and no answer. I opened my phone and tried to call him, but his number went straight to voicemail.
“Dammit, Ethan.” I pocketed my phone.
His truck was here, so I knew he was inside. I moved to the window to see if I could see him lying on the couch, but the curtains were drawn, and I couldn’t see into the house.
I banged on the door a few more times.
“Ethan! Open the damn door. I’m cold, I’m tired, and I’m hungry. Open the damn door before I kick it down, and I won’t buy you a new one.”
I banged a few more times but still, nothing happened. I was about to go for another round of banging, but my hand stilled when the door flew open.
I gasped, as I stared at a half-naked Grayson who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He had a scowl etched on his face, but when his eyes finally registered who I was, they went wide.
“Grayson?” That was the only word I could muster at that moment.
I had thought I would only have to see him on Friday for the funeral, but here he was. The first person I was meeting officially. This was not how I had wanted any of this to go. I hadn’t wanted to see him unless I absolutely had to.
