Touched (The Untouched Trilogy #2)(51)

“Sure,” Lia replied.

“From the looks of it, we’re making the chicken and herb white pizza with garlic sauce.” Bianca said.

“Mmmm. That sounds yummy,” I replied.

“That’s what we made when Aiden visited Dayton,” Lia added. “He loved it.”

I was starting to think that Lia had a crush on Aiden. We chatted and laughed as we busied ourselves with our contribution to the meal. I hadn’t made pizza sauce since high school but as I added and mixed the ingredients, it seemed like it was just yesterday. Aiden and Dianna had left no detail to chance, including the pizza stone. Lia placed the pizza on the stone and closed the oven door and we started on the salad.

“Mom would have loved this,” Bianca said. “She was looking forward to Thanksgiving,” she said. I looked up to see tears pooling in her large amber eyes. I walked over and hugged her. I soon felt Lia’s arms around us. We all stood in the middle of the kitchen hugging and crying as the enormity of our grief came crushing down around us.

Our sobs gradually subsided and we finished the salad and set the table. “You know what? Thanksgiving is two days away and I think we should resume our plans and cook dinner,” I said. Neither of the girls said anything as they headed back to the kitchen.

“I know this is going to be difficult but I think this will be a good, positive step for us,” I said.

“I think so too. It’s just hard to imagine it without Mom,” Lia replied.

“I think you’re right Aria, we should do it. Mom would have wanted that,” Bianca stated.

The oven timer pinged and Lia walked over to remove the pizza. We sat down for lunch and tossed some menu ideas around. We all seemed to lean more toward the traditional entrées so we decided to stick with those. The pizza was fabulous. Lia suggested we have pizza night at least once a month, a suggestion to which Bianca and I quickly agreed.

After lunch, we decided on the Thanksgiving menu and made a quick check of the pantry. We really didn’t need many food items thanks to Dianna and Aiden. We made a list and the girls went to the building’s gym to look around.

I felt crowded, out of my element. I didn’t like it. This would have been difficult no matter what but it would have been an easier transition had I not shut myself off from my family for so many years. We were all fiddling our way through a forced arrangement. I didn’t know what to do to make it easier. I guess the only thing that could do that was time. I didn’t want to push and bring too many feelings to the surface that could cause catastrophic consequences but I needed to know that they were okay, that they were managing. We’d discussed counseling and decided to keep it as an option, maybe we should take that off the back-burner or maybe I could be intentional about having in-depth talks on a routine basis. I really didn’t know what the answer was. Maybe I was expecting too much too soon. I’d had several years to get adjusted to the idea of having a life without parents and how to cope without family. But they still had Mom and a small appearance of family life. So this was much more of a mentally dynamic change for them than it was for me.

How was I going to do this? I walked into my closet and went to the corner that I typically avoided. I opened the bottom drawer in the far corner and pulled out the forbidden box. I slowly opened it and my attention was immediately drawn to the pink heart-shaped note that bore my mother’s handwriting. I picked it up and trailed my fingertips across the two small but immensely powerful words. Mom constantly left notes like this in my room, on my door or in my book bag. Two words in Italian. Ti Amo. Once Dad left, the notes appeared less and less until one day they disappeared altogether. I placed her letter on top of the note and put the box away.

Aiden called to check in and he also invited us to his home for Thanksgiving. I was thankful for his offer but I felt we needed this time alone. I was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t push. I actually didn’t have the energy to debate and I knew that he could sense that. He was being careful with me, and I really appreciated his efforts, especially since I knew that his preference would be to take control and make everything okay.

After our trip to the market, we each selected the items we’d cook. The girls had the turkey; they were confident they could do it. That would be interesting.



*****



Thanksgiving came and went very quickly. We’d made a huge mess of the kitchen but the dinner was delicious. The girls had done an awesome job with the turkey. There was uncomfortable silence at times during dinner but that was understandable; we were thinking of Mom. We were thinking of what could have been. We were thinking of what would never be.

The girls started class the following Monday at Boston Latin and I went back to work. I’d checked in with Mrs. Warner to help with their car and packing up the house. We were donating the car to a charity and updating it to something more reliable. In the meantime, they had a rental car until we had a chance to go car shopping.

We soon developed a routine and we were seemingly comfortable with the recent changes. I’d reached out to the school counselor for some advice; she’d suggested that I consider counseling with her or with another mental health provider of my choosing. She wasn’t terribly alarmed but she did feel that it would be helpful. It reminded me of my time with the school counselor. I’d been attempting to cope with the loss of my father. Now my sisters will be coping with the loss of their mother. Counseling would be a step in the right direction because it could allow us to at least access the threshold of the doors that we were afraid to open.