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12 years ago
Chapter one
Spencer
Thick, heavy droplets of summer rain smatter against my cheeks, mingling with the hot, salty tears that pour from my eyes. Curling my fingers into my palms, I scrape my fingernails across the wet shingles, splitting the nail of my right index finger. Wincing at the sharp pain at my fingertip, I sniffle, and press my eyelids firmly closed, picturing her face.
Her warm, peach-toned skin. Her bright, sparkling green eyes. The blonde curls that always fell in soft tendrils around her face. Dina Maddox was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and now every time I look in the mirror, I see her in my reflection. A sob escapes my lips as I fumble through my mind, trying to recall all of the happy memories.
Before she got sick.
Before the hospice.
Before that grotesque, open casket.
That wasn’t her lying there today. I mean it was, but it wasn’t at the same time. I begged dad not to do it, told him it wasn’t what she would have wanted. He disagreed though, and ultimately it was his decision.
I wanted to scream at him, throw things, call him out on his bullshit and make him explain just what makes him thinks he would have known what she wanted. After all, he was never around. Always gone for months at a time. Always away for work.
Most of my life it has been just me and her.
When she got sick, he didn’t slow down either. Maybe he was in denial, but even if that were the case, it wasn’t fair that he left me to take care of her alone. Only 17 years old and left to care for my dying mother. She had nurses though, so in his warped mind it was perfectly fine, because there was an adult under our roof at all times.
Fuck the trauma.
Fuck the torment of watching her wither away before my very eyes.
The cancer ate away at her so quickly that I never had time to process. Never had time to come to terms with the life altering news. It felt like there was no time at all between the diagnosis and entering hospice care.
It was too advanced, they said.
There was nothing they could do, they said.
Terminal.
That fucking word. I hate it.
I don’t want to remember her lying in that hospital bed in our den. I don’t want to close my eyes and watch her sparkle fade. I want to remember bedtime stories, braiding my hair, warm chocolate chip cookies, movie nights, days at the lake, and laughing until it hurt.
But all I can see right now when I close my eyes is that fucking casket.
My chest heaves and I choke on the tears as my body shakes.
Faint scraping, along with the sounds of the wooden trellis smacking lightly against the siding, catches my attention, and I quickly wipe my face with both hands, swiping snot away with my palm.
“Spence?” Travis’s soft voice calls out to me.
I came here to hide from all of the sad, pitying eyes, and small talk, but I knew he would find me here. Not only that, I wanted him to find me. There’s no one else I can physically bear to be breathing the same air as tonight. No one else that I want to occupy the same space with.
His sneakers scuffle against the wet shingles and I feel him settling down beside me. His fingertips graze mine as he lies down on his back on the rooftop beside me, staring up into the same dark sky.
“Hey,” I whisper, stifling another sob.
“Oh Spence,” he exhales, pushing my wet, pale blonde hair from my face and sliding his arm beneath my neck, pulling me in close.
I nuzzle my face into his warm, thick, hooded sweatshirt, inhaling the patchouli and weed that emanates off of his body. It’s at that moment, I break all over again. The tears roll down my cheeks and he wraps his opposite arm around me, pulling me impossibly close to him; stroking my hair while I sob into his chest.
He holds me in silence, cocooning me in his warmth until the tears stop.
