Sweet Forty-Two(55)

I had to touch her. To hug her. Never in my life had I seen a person who needed to be hugged as much as Georgia did. As she sat, her knees pulled to her chest, that half-assed excuse for a self-hug didn’t seem to be taking hold in her soul.

“I’ll shut up about it,” I said as I slid closer to her until our sides were touching, “if you let me hug you.”

She scrunched her eyebrows and looked at me like I’d just said the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. As ironic of a look as I’d ever seen.

“Please.” I nudged her shoulder with mine. “Just let me hug you. I can tell you need it.”

“I’ll let you hug me,” she straightened her face as she sat forward, “if you open that letter. Then maybe we’ll both need one.”

Feeling like I’d been tossed down my own rabbit hole, I shook my head. “I can’t.”

“That makes no sense. You have every body part necessary for the task.”

“You know what I mean. I ... physically can’t.”

“Why not?”

“What if it’s bad?” I’d been tossing possibilities around in my head for a week straight.

“I’d say the worst is over, isn’t it? The absolute worst thing has already happened. What the hell else could be worse?” Now her hand was on my leg, but I didn’t move. Human contact was at a premium for me these days, and I needed it.

She was right.

The absolute worst thing had already happened. Rae died, then I did, and I was wandering the earth as an emotional zombie amongst the living.

I sighed, looking to the sky for some sort of sign. It was perfect and blue. Nothing scary.

“Okay, I’ll open it.”





Georgia

“Not here, though,” Regan said of opening the letter. “Bo and Ember don’t know about it, and I don’t know if I want them to.”

I shrugged, but my heart was racing as he stood and I followed him back to the wall where the letter sat. “When I said open it, you know I meant open it and read it, right?”

He nodded, but kept walking a good five paces ahead of me.

“Okay, because I know some people get real literal under stress. I don’t happen to be one of those people...”

He chuckled. “Neither am I.”

I was out of breath after speed-walking through the pillowy sand. Maybe I’d have to start working out with Ember.

Or I could just keep making cupcakes.

I shook my head, inappropriately light thoughts always invaded my head when catastrophe loomed. My mother had trained me as such, as I’d just finished explaining to Regan. I was one of Pavlov’s dogs, salivating with mental escape tactics at the ringing of the emotional bell.

“Okay. I’m going to go back home. My mom’s there waiting...” I nervously tucked my hands into my back pockets.

Regan held up the perfectly square card. “Take this.”

Oh, hell no.

“Uh, no.”

“Please.” He pressed it into my chest with urgency in his eyes. “If I chicken out between here and the apartment, I’m just as likely to throw it out the window of the car as I am to read it. I have to talk with Bo and Ember about some band stuff, but I’ll be back home in a little while. Just ... please take it with you. Please.”

I put my hands up, taking the offending parcel into my hand. “Okay, okay, I’ll take it. I’ll read it myself, though, if you don’t come back.”

His eyes lit up. “You could read it, then just ... tell me?”

“You’ve lost your f*cking mind.” It was a phrase I didn’t use lightly.

“Maybe so. Thanks. See you later.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, and then turned and jogged toward the house.

Did he just...

Never one to disassemble motives, I walked to my car like I was carrying a live bomb, briefly considered buckling it in, and drove back to the apartment.

It wasn’t until I was a block away from my apartment that it dawned on me with a sickening sinking feeling. My mom showed up, and I never asked her how she got there, if she needed a ride back to her place, or if she wanted to stay with me. I was so wrapped up in the hurt on Regan’s face that for the first time in twenty years I put someone before my mom. Me.

That was exactly why Regan and I could stay just friends. I had to keep my priorities straight. Well, it wasn’t the only reason, but it was enough to get me through for now. My mom did have a point though. She didn’t need me. There were great assisted living facilities throughout the area, and she knew exactly what she was looking for when that time came. Maybe I was the one who wasn’t ready for that.

I parked in my garage and raced up the stairs, hoping my mom had actually waited for me. My door was unlocked, which was a good sign, but not an absolute.

“Mom?” I called before looking around.

When I finally paused and took a minute, I smelled fresh bread and turned and jogged back down the stairs.

“You’re baking,” I said as I opened the door, trying to sound nonchalant. Baking meant she wanted to talk. I forced myself to be ready to listen.

“You’re out of breath,” she observed. “Were you worried I’d disappeared?”

I shrugged, taking a seat on the stool nearest the stove. “I have varied success with my conspiracy theories. So...”