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“Tyler, I’m sorry for hurting you. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.” He pauses, as though waiting for a response. When I offer none, he makes his way towards the door. “I’ll leave your things on the porch.” He mutters before walking out my door for what will hopefully be the last time ever.
As soon as he’s gone, I race across the room and turn the deadbolt. I then watch through the window as he leaves two boxes on the porch and backs out of my driveway.
I lean my back against the door and try to comprehend what just happened here. My feelings are all over the place and it’s hard to make sense of them. I’m hurt and angry. I want to throw something and cry and scream. But also, I’m mad at myself for even being upset? I don’t want him. I don’t miss him and I haven’t missed him at all since I left, but damn, what a punch in the gut. He may as well have gotten me a card that said, “Like always, you’ll never be enough.”
I admit, though, it hurts. For three years, I really tried to be what he wanted. I tried to make him happy. All I wanted was for him to want to spend his life with me, but in the end; I wasn’t enough. Then suddenly, she came along and she was everything I couldn’t be. He had no desire to marry me, but he can’t wait to settle down with her. I can’t believe I was willing to give up my chance to be a mother for a man that saw nothing in me.
I move my eyes toward Andrew’s house. His driveway is empty. I try to remember if his truck was there when Elliott arrived, but I don’t think I even looked that way. Elliott’s appearance had me too shocked to even notice.
My brain is swimming and I don’t even know how to feel anymore. I wish I felt like I was enough for anyone, or anything. But, just like my mother and Elliott and his stupid family and friends, I feel like maybe I am only meant to be mediocre. I lay down on the couch and curl up with a blanket, and cry myself to sleep.
Chapter 21
After a long nap, I wake up to the sound of Fernandez screaming outside my window once again. Immediately, I ran to the window but find that Andrew is still not home. Disappointed, I grab some bread from the kitchen and walk out to the porch to try to make friends with the neighborhood rooster.
I lean over the porch railing and find the Fernandez waiting for me. “Hi, Fernandez. You hungry?” I ask, before I throw crumbled pieces of bread towards him. When the first piece of bread lands on the ground, he jumps, but after cautiously approaching the food, he devours it. He slowly makes his way towards me and I throw another piece of bread down at his feet.
“You know what, Fernandez? You have quite the life.” I say with a shrug. “What I wouldn’t give to just be able to scream at the top of my lungs whenever I feel like it.” I confess.
Fernandez cocks his head sideways and stares at me. He’s obviously not amused by me.
“Who do you belong to?” I ask him with a frown. My eyes scan the street, reminding myself to ask my neighbors about him. If he’s someone’s pet, I shouldn’t just ship him off to a farm. Someone might miss him. The last thing I need is to be labeled as a rooster thief.
With sad eyes, I look towards Andrew’s house again. Something isn’t right, and I wish I knew what was going on. I’m trying to remain hopeful that he will be back later tonight, but the longer he’s gone, the more I worry he won’t return. It’s not like him to just disappear.
In an effort to distract myself, I decide to make some comfort food for dinner. Making lasagna from scratch, paired with garlic bread and salad, is just enough to keep my mind and hands busy. But, unfortunately, when I get done building the pan full of food, Andrew still isn’t home. Still nothing by the time I pull the lasagna from the oven either. I place the food on the stove to cool, and decide to call mom to check in on dad, another distraction tactic.
“Hello?” Mom answers on the first ring. I can hear the beeping of hospital equipment in the background, telling me that dad is still hooked up and being monitored. She sounds exhausted.
“Hey. Just checking in.” I say, “How’s it going there?”
“He’s doing good. I think we are going home tomorrow morning.” She says, groggily.
“Good. I’ll be glad to have you guys at home. You sound exhausted. Anything I can do to make your transition back home easier?”
“Oh, no. The ladies from the church have already organized a meal train, not that we need anymore food after Hazel’s funeral.” She adds with a bit of a groan. “We will be just fine. Dad’s just getting restless and ready to get out of that bed.”
“I bet he is.” I say, thoughtfully. Dad has never been good at sitting still for long periods of time and being fussed over is his least favorite thing. “I’ll be ready to see you both get back to normal.”
“Us too.” She pauses for a beat. “Tyler, thank you so much for being there for your dad. I hate to think of what would have happened had you not been around.”
“Me too, mom.” I agree with a nod, as if she can see me. “I’m so glad I could be there.”
“It’s been so good having you home. We’re going to miss you when you leave again…” she trails off, letting the sentence hang in the air.
“Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.” I pause. “Mom, I think I’m going to stick around here for a while. Maybe plant some roots.” I let out a deep breath as soon as the words leave my body. This is the first time I’ve admitted it to anyone, and I’m still having a hard time believing it myself.
My mom’s voice immediately perks up. “Really?”
“Yes. I just hate the idea of being anywhere else in case you guys need me. Besides, I’ll admit, this town has grown on me over the last couple of weeks.”
“That makes me so happy.” She says, with obvious joy in her voice.
“Me too.” I say as I glance towards the window and notice movement in Andrew’s driveway. My heart picks up speed. “I’m going to let you go. Let me know when you guys are home, okay? Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She answers with a pep in her voice that she did not have when I called a few minutes ago.
Having that conversation takes a load off my shoulders, but now I need to focus on what’s happening next door.
