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Letting go of shit actually worked. I wasn’t completely at peace with my decision to cut my family off, but I was at peace with how I didn’t get anxious about pulling up my bank account. There was still organization to do when it came to my finances, but I didn’t have to penny-pinch in fear of an incoming emergency. The real test would come if or when something big happened and they asked me for help. Staying strong in my decision was going to be the most difficult thing I've ever done.
I gave everyone their space for a week. Ash kept me updated about TJ, and Mom kept me updated about Ash. Dad was still MIA.
After watching Noah find her voice with her family and them taking it relatively well, I wanted to try again with my folks in the hopes we could at least be on some sort of speaking terms. The goal wasn't to burn my already-charred bridge to ash.
“I didn’t know you felt like this,” Mom said. She’d been the quietest out of the three of them when I repeated the reasoning behind my decision to stop helping with the finances. Her silence made the small guilt I’d always carry grow. “You’ve always been so strong and capable. I thought you liked helping.”
“I did like to help.” I adjusted myself on the couch, plastic rippling underneath me. My fingers kept shaking, so I folded my hands together and squeezed to keep them still.
TJ was still bandaged up. He couldn’t move much on the couch, and emoting wasn't an option, but I could still tell he was pissed at me by the cold look in his eyes.
“When I was a kid,” I explained, “but I don’t have anything left to give, and I need…have needed help for some time.”
“Help,” Mom repeated with a small, sad smile. “I remember you used to push me away whenever I tried to help when you were younger. It used to make me so sad when you did that. You never needed me. I admired you for it.”
“I did need you,” I said. “I didn’t know how to ask. A part of me thought if I did, you guys would be disappointed in me. You'd look at me and finally see that I wasn't strong enough to hold us. Most days, I'm barely strong enough to hold myself up, so I pushed you all away because I didn't think I was brave enough to not be strong, but I’m done pushing.”
“And we’re done pulling,” Ash spoke up. “Right?”
His question was for both of them, but his gaze was on TJ. Our brother was slow to give in, but a slight nod eventually came. I was surprised at how it helped untangle some of the knots in my stomach.
“I always thought you didn’t need us either,” TJ confessed. “So I let you handle everything.”
“We know better. Now that you've told us, we know. We hear you.” Mom straightened her back as best she could and reached for me. For the first time since I was small, she pulled me in for a hug, and I folded into her, enjoying the warmth and familiar smell of childhood. I didn’t cry, but I got as close to it as I thought my body was capable. With my face buried in her shoulder, I finally got the support I’d starved myself of for years. It was funny how all I had to do was finally accept I wasn’t built to carry so much weight. I thought it’d feel more shameful, but it was the furthest thing from it.
I was proud, and I was finally free.
Noah wasn’t in the office on Monday morning. I didn’t think much of it because we’d spoken the night before, but as the minutes turned to hours and Tyson continued to stop by our cubicle, I started to worry.
“Something’s wrong,” I said when she didn't pick up my third call.
Tyson was at her desk, chewing on his nail as he thought. “Have you met her family? Is there anyone to contact?”
“I’ve met them, but we aren’t exactly in exchanging numbers territory yet.” I dialed again, and it went straight to voicemail. Fuck this.
“I have to go,” I said as I shut down my computer.
Tyson didn’t give me any protest. “Keep me in the loop, okay? She didn't give me her daily update."
It was hard to swallow. Noah was the only one who abided by that team rule—she took her reports seriously, and she even made little, unnecessarily cute illustrations to go with them. She loved her fucking daily updates.
The drive to her apartment felt longer than usual. With each mile, I got more anxious and reckless. After nearly running a stop sign and getting flipped off, I had to pull over for a few breaths. I was no good to Noah if I ended up in an accident.
I’d managed to calm my breathing by the time I pulled into her driveway. Her blinds were still drawn, the car still in the driveway. I knocked at a respectable volume for the first time—used my fist the second.
"Noah!" I stepped back to call up to her. "Can you open the door? Or send a text? Something?"
No answer. I was sweating as I banged on the door again, still trying to call. Straight to voicemail. What had she said her mom did for a living? It was something to do with botany and public gardens. I could possibly call those kinds of places and ask for her.
My plan came together slowly as I Googled all the gardens in the city. Right as I was about to call the first one, Noah's front door unlocked.
"Sorry it took me so long," she said in a low voice.
I jumped into a hug before she could say anything else. She barely wrapped her arm around me, and once she did, it was only a limp one, while the other remained pinned to her chest.
"What the hell?" I pulled back and cupped her face to get a better look at her. Noah's eyes were bloodshot, her usually glowy skin dull, like it hadn’t seen the sun in days.
"Why aren't you picking up your phone?" I asked.
