AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter eighteen
Grace
Amelia
Ipressthenumber1 on my phone, confirming my therapy appointment tomorrow night. I was hoping I’d get to have one before I see Miles for our baby appointment tomorrow, but I’m lucky I even got this appointment, given I only signed up late last night. I stared at my phone for a good ten minutes after Aaron left, then I finally picked the damn thing up and forced myself to fill out the form.
I got matched quickly, and the therapist happened to have a cancellation for tomorrow night, so I took it. I’ve been pandering in this space for too long and it’s time to rip the bandage off instead of going at a snail’s pace and pulling out one tiny hair at a time.
I don’t know exactly what I’m going to say to Miles tomorrow, but I don’t want things to go on how they’ve been. It’s hard for me, and I’ve realized that some part of me sees being loved and cared for as weak. Which is ridiculous. There’s no weakness in any of that, and if the advice I’ve been getting is truthful, it takes a hell of a lot of strength to recognize your walls and break them down. I’d gotten so used to having to be strong that I built a narrative for myself that handling things on my own was better. It meant I was fierce and capable.
As I sit alone on the floor of my closet, I know that’s far from the truth. For the first time, I’m trying to handle things alone and I feel weaker than ever. Maybe because I’m not handling it at all. Which iswhyI’m sitting on the floor of my closet. There are things I need to stare in the face, and I’m not waiting for a therapy appointment to do it. So I pull out the tote I’ve been avoiding for years. At least since my mother’s diagnosis. While I occasionally pull out the totes with things that smell like them, this one is filled with memories. Pictures and other pieces of the life I had with them—one that feels so long ago now.
Popping the top off, I reach inside without looking, feeling around instead. The first thing I find is a trophy. It’s from fifth grade when I won the statewide spelling bee. My dad spent weeks quizzing me on words. He’d pick random pages from the dictionary and have me spell words I’d never heard of that I’ve long since forgotten. Every night, he’d end with the funniest sounding word he could find and we’d end up in a fit of laughter. His laugh was pure joy. I rest my hand on my stomach. Maybe she’ll have his laugh. I have my mother’s shrill one. I wish I had his. That I could hear it one more time.
My stomach whirls at that thought. Maybe I can. Somewhere in this box is a USB with videos I took of him during his final months. I’d snuggle up on the couch with him and record videos of me asking him random questions. He’d smile for the camera and give me answers that ranged from funny to profound. On a few, my mother stuck her head in as well.
I’m not sure I’m ready to watch them yet, but I want to get there because I want to share them with my daughter, too. And Miles. I think he and my dad would’ve gotten along well. He probably would’ve converted my dad into a baseball fan.
Would I have met Miles if I hadn’t been through all this? Would I have ended up here? I don’t like to think about life like that. As if there’s some master plan and in order for me to meet the man I love, I had to lose so much. Any higher power that would do something like that is cruel.
I reach into the tote again, this time pulling out a photo album. It’s from a trip we took to Gettysburg when I was fifteen. I’m a bit of a history nerd, and I found it absolutely fascinating. We even did a ghost walk while we were there. It was insanely fun. Smiling, I flip through the album, some tiny cracks in my heart healing rather than fracturing further.
I set it aside and pull out something else. Tears fill my eyes when I see it. TheDaddy’s Girlonesie like the one that made me sob at the baby shower. How was that less than a week ago? It was a beautiful day, but it was heart wrenching, too, and I’m mad about that. I feel like I missed out on so much joy. I don’t want to miss out on more. I run my hand over the onesie then set it aside. I can’t wait to dress our baby girl in that.
Leaning back against the wall, I close my eyes and rest my hands on my stomach. I want to be stronger for her. I want to be kind and loving and walk the delicate balance of being her best friend but still being her mom. I want to be her safe place. Like my mom was for me. Like Katie is.
I wipe away a couple of tears, then pull out something else. My breath catches when I realize what it is. A black velvet box. I flip it open and take a moment to look at their rings together. After my dad died, Mom kept his ring and wore it on a chain around her neck. When her behavior started changing, I took it and set it aside. When she got more forgetful and disoriented, I took her wedding ring and switched out for an anniversary ring my father had given her. She asked about it a couple of times, then forgot and accepted the anniversary ring as a wedding ring.
I kept it, thinking I might give it to my child one day. Before all this, I never really believed I’d fall for someone. I thought I could close my heart off and never form that kind of relationship. When love is involved, though, you can’t truly close off your heart. I’m finally learning that.
I slip the beautiful white gold, diamond, and sapphire ring out and put it on my finger.
Now that I’ve found love, I don’t want to keep this ring tucked away in a box. I’ve made mistakes, but I hope I get to wear it one day. To see Miles put it on my finger. He’d probably come up with an incredible proposal.
I want that. I want him. Us. This family we’re starting. I’m filled with fear and pain, but I want him. All the beautiful pieces of me and all the ugly broken ones want him. I want to share this life with him—which I know means sharing my heart.
I still don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know how to apologize or explain or what I need, but I want to figure it out, and I think that’s the most important thing.
Put in the work—that’s what Katie said. Effort. Trust. Grace.
The grace is the hardest part. I don’t have much of it for myself. I guess that’s another thing to add to my therapy list.
Tomorrow, Miles and I can spend some time together after the appointment. I don’t want to get into everything, but I want him to know how I’m feeling and what I want for our future, even if I’m still working out how to get there.
Miles
I cannot focus worth a shit today.
Probably because I can’t stop thinking about Amelia. I saw her from a distance this morning and the desire to run over, kiss her, and beg her to let me in was so strong I almost made an idiot of myself in the middle of the lobby. Thankfully, my logic kicked in, but my brain has not stopped the Amelia thought train since.
We’ve barely talked this week, but she texted me last night to confirm I was coming to the appointment and she said she couldn’t wait. I said I couldn’t either. Then she said goodnight. It was simple, and I’m probably reading too much into it.
I’m probably reading it too much as well, since this is at least the tenth time today I’ve reread our exchange as if some new information will appear.
Sighing, I almost turn my phone screen off before realizing we hadn’t discussed if we’d be going together or separately.
Me: Hey, we didn’t talk about this last night, but is it okay if I drive you to the appointment?
