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“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I like being on my own.”
“It’s easier this way?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“In a perfect world, where you aren’t you, how would your life be?”
I pause as I contemplate his question.
“Would you be married with children? A large family of your own?”
I nod. “I guess.”
He smiles. “Let’s make that a goal.”
“I gave up having personal goals a long time ago.”
“When your mother died?”
“Leave her out of this.” I sigh in frustration. “My mother has nothing to do with being in love.”
“Because she died?”
“Stop saying that.” I close my eyes to try and block him out.
“Do you remember what we talked about on your last visit, Henley?”
I roll my lips. I just want this fucking over with.
“Let me refresh your memory. We went over the day your mother passed away and the trauma you have suffered over it.”
I inhale with a deep shaky breath as that dark day floats back.
The young boy sobbing over his mother’s body, unaware that she’s already passed over.
Mom, it’s okay. Dad’s coming, Dad’s coming, he’s going to take us to this hospital.
Wake up, Mom, please wake up. Mom, I need you to wake up . . . please.
“Henley.” Aaron’s voice brings me back to the present moment, and my eyes rise to his blurred silhouette. “It’s an upsetting memory, isn’t it?”
I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands. “Yes.”
“Have you ever talked about that day with anyone?”
I shrug. “Umm . . .”
“Take your time.”
“My two best friends are the only . . .” I frown, unsure how to carry on the sentence. “They came over that night, and . . .” I shrug. “We were young. I don’t know what we talked about.”
“Are you still in contact with them?”
“Blake Grayson.” I shrug. “You know, him and Antony Deluca are still my best friends.”
