Chapter 7 Indie

Chapter 7

Indie

Every time I pull in the driveway of my childhood home, emotions steal the air right out of my lungs. I’m left panting, trying to calm myself before I head inside to see my dad. This place holds countless beautiful memories that I cling to, but the more recent ones hold tight to my still-bruised heart—unshakeable even after a decade of grieving. Not even the physical pain of being here without her can keep me from visiting.

“Dad!” I call over the thud of my duffle bag landing on the ornate rug my mom picked out.

“In the den.” His deep voice echoes through the house. For a second it almost feels like nothing has changed, like he and my mom will appear together with hugs, welcoming me home. It’s a shock I’ll never get used to.

“How’s the sudoku treating you today?” I ask as I round the corner to his favorite room in the house.

Just as I knew he would be, his feet are kicked up in his dark green recliner. The matching one next to him sits untouched. It’s time to replace both of them; the velvety fabric is worn and discolored, but he’s not ready for that .

“Keeping my mind sharp as a tack.” The footrest clicks when he lowers it, setting aside his puzzle. “Need any help with your things?” He doesn’t move as quickly as the last time I was home. He looks weary, and I wonder, for the thousandth time in the last few years, if being here alone is too hard for him.

“Nope, just one bag,” I say, meeting him halfway.

“So a short visit, then.” He frowns, pulling me into a hug.

“Yeah, I want to get on the road the day after tomorrow. Avoid a storm system coming through later this week.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, sweet pea.” He kisses the top of my head. “Want to stretch those legs after your drive?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” My inability to sit still isn’t a secret. After the drive, the last thing I want is to be cooped up inside.

Our feet carry us the same way they always do; out of the cul-de-sac, past the elementary school, and down the path that leads to the cemetery. When we get to her plot, we take a seat, side by side, on the bench.

“You want to go first? She’s probably sick of me by now,” he says, sounding more at peace with being here than I feel. This is part of his routine. Every morning starts with a walk to see mom, rain or shine. It’s his way of keeping her memory alive.

“Sure.”

His hand covers mine, and he kisses my cheek before standing. “I’ll give you two some time to catch up and take a lap around the path.”

Starting is always the hardest, but once the words come, they pour out. Each word a nano stitch in the patchwork of my tattered heart.

It’s been almost a year since I’ve visited her, so I have a lot to fill her in on. “I’m moving to Denver. Poppy’s so happy . . . I’m dating someone—Brianna. You’d love her. She’s sweet and nurturing without being a pushover. The two of you would be a pair . . . but . . . I’m not sure she’s the one.”

I share revelation after revelation, feeling lighter with each word.

Sucking in an uneasy breath, I gather myself because, up until now, everything has been surface level—easy—but I can’t ignore the pull to tell her what’s really going on with me. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed since we lost her; talking to her still calms me in a way only she can. The only thing that compares is the peace I feel when I’m biking or running.

“I quit my job. I know you don’t care where I work or what I do as long as I’m happy. And the truth is, I wasn’t . . . not really. It was all about the hustle, but it wasn’t fulfilling. Plus, my boss was a gargantuan ass-nugget. Denver will be different—better.” It comes out in a rush, one long breath of admission. When I’m done, I feel more at ease than I have since my ride the other night.

Sitting in silence for a minute I listen to the birds, imagining what she would think of all this. She’d be glad I was following my heart, even if it’s crazy. She’d tell me to embrace my whims because her faith in me was unwavering.

“I can’t believe it’s been ten years. Would you do it all differently if you could? You didn’t know cancer was coming for you, but if you’d have known, would it have changed anything?”

The tears sting my eyes as they fall, my unanswered questions making them spill fast and hot.

“You couldn’t have loved harder—you already did that so well. Even before the diagnosis, you never held back.” Not like me.

All the ways I’ve been holding back flash like a slideshow in my mind. The testing. Staying in my job for as long as I did. Not moving out by Poppy sooner. Walking out of that house last year when everything felt a little too close to perfect. Leaving him behind.

“That last one is the one you’d give me the most shit about. And no, there’s no chance of us getting together when I move, so don’t even think about it. Smooth talk and pretty faces only lead to heartbreak; I learned that lesson the hard way. I won’t be fooled like that again.”

My dad comes into view as he closes out the loop. Swiping away the tears, I give her a private goodbye before he rejoins us.

“Did my girls get all caught up?” He tucks me under his arm and kisses the top of my head like he has since I was a little girl.

“We did.” Usually talking to her gives me clarity, but I’m more confused than ever. “Do you think we could head back soon? I’m starving and a little tired. ”

“Yeah, sweet pea, let me say goodbye.” Just like every time, he kisses his pointer and middle fingers, placing them over her name before he tells he loves her and misses her.