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And I am aching with anger, filled with heartbreak. Gut-wrenching pain barrels toward me. It’s as inescapable as my mother’s fate, and I don’t know how to handle any of it. I wish I didn’t have to.
Miles
Amelia is coming apart at the seams. It’s obvious and unsurprising, but it worries me. How could it not? I love this girl with everything in me, and she’s looking at the possibility of losing her mom.
She hasn’t said much since we left the hospital. I was surprised she let me carry her to the car—let me in as much as she has. My anxiety latches onto that, the thought rising in the back of my mind that it’s only a matter of time until she shuts me out.
With a deep breath, I shove that thought away. I won’t let it win. We’re stronger now, and we’ve both learned and grown. We can handle this. It won’t pull us backward; it’ll pull us together.
Right now, we’re sitting in the living room. The only noises are chewing and Emmie babbling in my mom’s arms. My dad came over a couple of hours ago while Emmie was sleeping to take over for Rae and Aaron so they could get some sleep. Dani is also here because she wanted to be here for Amelia. Mackie had to drag her out of the hospital, but there was nothing either of them could have done but sit and wait.
Ma was already planning to whip something up when we got back here, but then Amelia asked to stop at McDonald’s for cheeseburgers. My mother doesn’t know why Amelia asked for them, but she stopped anyway and ordered a shit ton of food at the drive thru.
I’m more grateful for my mother than I’ve ever been before. I got lucky. Not just that I have a strong, loving mother, but that she’s so supportive of Amelia. I know with certainty that my mother will always be there for her. Their relationship is separate from mine with either of them, and I’m glad. I’m glad Amelia has a mother figure to rely on as she watches her mom slip away.
I’m glad I have both my parents because I don’t know how to support her through it. I’m just wrapping my arms around her and holding space for her to process, because that’s all I can do.
“Thank you for dinner,” Amelia says politely when she finishes her burgers.
Ma smiles softly. “No problem, honey. Let me know if there’s anything special you want this week, and I’ll cook some things up tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to…” The words die on Amelia’s lips as my mother pins her with the don’t give me shit look.
“Do you need anything?” Dani asks, rubbing Amelia’s back.
Amelia shakes her head.
“Why don’t the two of you try to get some rest? We’ll be here to help with Emmie for the night,” my dad says.
Amelia stands, fidgeting with the oversized sweatshirt she threw on when we got home.
“I appreciate that, but it’s not necessary. You all must be exhausted. We can handle this.” She flips a hand through her hair and restlessly walks around the back of the couch.
Dani’s eyes narrow. “That doesn’t mean you have to. Let us help.”
“No one can help.” Amelia’s voice is quiet, almost a sob. She sucks in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. There’s just… nothing anyone can do to fix this. It is what it is, and it sucks.”
“We can still support you.” Dani is gentle but firm with Amelia. She knows Amelia’s tendencies like I do, but they don’t trigger her, so she goes further than I might. She’s got that Abbott tough love, and she knows when to push and when to stop.
Amelia keeps pacing. The tension in the room is high, but it’s not anger. It’s something else—Amelia’s inner turmoil ready to bubble over. She stops abruptly, eyes wild, like a caged animal desperate to escape. “I need a minute.” She turns to the hallway, and I watch her. She braces the wall, then turns around. “Miles,” she squeaks.
I leap out of my chair, glancing at my mother as I move toward Amelia. Ma nods at me, letting me know she has Emmie, and I follow Amelia down the hallway. She flies into the bedroom in a frazzled state of chaos and picks up her shirt from the bed. She chucks it across the room.
“Babe?” I whisper as I close the door behind me.
She storms to the head of the bed and pulls a pillow off. “It’s not fair!”
She chucks it across the room, and my eyes go wide. I’ve never seen this side of her before.
She grabs another pillow. “None of this is fucking fair!” She chucks that one.
“It’s not fair that I lost my dad at seventeen!” Another pillow hits the floor.
“It’s not fair he won’t be here to see me get married.” She grabs the last pillow and screams as she throws it. It slides into the bathroom, as I watch, a little shocked. I have no clue what to do right now.
“It’s not fair that I have to watch my mother wither away knowing I’m going to lose her too!” With no more pillows, she yanks the sheets up and tears them from the bed. “None of it is fair. It’s not fair that I had to survive alone because life ripped away the people who loved me.” She chokes on a sob, her hands still wrenched in the sheets. “It’s not fair,” she breathes, so quiet I can barely hear her. Her grip on the sheets loosens as tears pour down her cheeks, then she drops to her knees, sobbing.
I dash around the bed and slide onto the floor next to her, pulling her between my legs and hugging her tight to my chest.
