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With her, I know we were young, but I thought I might’ve had what my sister and Cole have. Something that’s magnetic, all-consuming, a thing that can’t be broken…
I flick at a nonexistent piece of lent on my shirt. “I’m still so mad at her, Dad.”
I hear the shuffle behind me, but it’s not the heaviness of his hand as it touches my shoulder that undoes me. It’s the words that follow shortly after.
“I know,” he sympathizes. His tone carries the graveness of two stones being rubbed together, jagged but smooth.
More pressure than I’ve ever felt washes over me because I know he understands what’s going on inside my mind right now better than anyone.
“You may be upset with Hailey, but that child—yourchild—did nothing wrong but exist in this world.”
I place my hand atop his, patting it. He gives me one more squeeze and it carries the heftiness of a ton of bricks.
His feet shuffle behind me as he rises from his spot, letting go.
“I think it’s time for me to head back, long stretch of highway from here to home.” A pause, and then. “Will I be taking the drive alone?”
It’s as if I’m being tugged right down the center, pulled apart in either direction. Am I all in or all out?
I don’t know. Is both an option?
twelve
Hailey
Then…
It’sgoodtobeback, it’s been too long. It only sucks that it’s under these circumstances…
I told my mom I wanted to feel the ocean on my toes, but really, I needed a moment to clear my head. Wrap my mind around the realness of the situation, of this move.
This new house, packing, unpacking, Mom’s sterile mood, I can’t stomach much more of any of it. Today has been endless, and I want a moment for myself.
“Some spring break I’m having,” I grumble, kicking at a small mound of sand.
My parents are divorced or in the process, but that’s only a formality. My mother moving here is like her holding the hammer to the nail. Their marriage is done, finished.
My chin starts to wobble as the familiar wave of emotions comes crashing back. I never saw it coming. Someone could’ve chucked a round of sharpened knives at my stomach, and it would’ve hurt less.
Fresh, raw, my parents cut me right down the center.
The slice may have been clean, but that doesn’t mean my insides didn’t fall past my feet and lie there while I was clearly bleeding.
Divorce.
That’s why we’re here.
Not because my mother’s been as desperate as I have to be back by the ocean, not because we planned a mother-daughter trip during my week-long break from school. This is none of that. This trip has one purpose. Her skipping out, and them both moving on.
The gaping wound I have inside splinters, widening further. Will I ever be able to breathe again without it hurting so bad?
People dream of having what they did and somehow…it didn’t work. They said they were tired of holding the other back.
Another bile of acid sits in my throat. What does that even mean?
They’ve always been supportive of one another. Creating and successfully becoming some of the top realtors for the wealthy elites back home.
Home.
