52. Leah

CHAPTER 52

LEAH

"Mom!" I run into the house and straight into her arms.

"Hey Sweetie." She tilts her head, and I can see that her eyes are puffy from crying, but she's putting on a brave face.

"What happened?" I sob, wrapped in her arms with mine squeezing her so tight I'm afraid I might break her. Hanging on this tight is the only thing that feels right at this moment though. Like if I keep her connected to me, there's less of a chance she'll disappear too.

"Why don't we sit?" She keeps a tight hold on my hand as she leads us to the couch. I instinctively grab the blanket I always curl up in and pull it into my lap. She lets out a sigh and my heart sinks.

"Your father had a mini stroke about a month ago."

And then it falls completely into my stomach.

"What? What do you mean? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't he tell me?"

"Sweetheart." She places her hand over mine where I'm picking anxiously at the string on the blanket stitch. "You were out there, living your own life, falling in love and having all the experiences a twenty-eight-year-old woman should have?—"

"SO?! You still could have told me that Dad wasn't doing well. I would have made sure I was here more," I sob, yanking my hand from hers to wipe the tears angrily away from my face.

"Leah, your father didn't want to tell you. He went to his doctor afterwards and he said that we were doing everything we should be doing to keep him healthy but that these things just happen sometimes." I know she's trying to make me feel better, but it's not working. It's making me feel worse, actually.

I should have been here.

Whether I knew my dad was in ill health or not, I should have made time to see them.

"Your dad was so proud of you, and so happy to see you happy, we didn't want to worry you unnecessarily over something we have no control over." She wipes a tear from my cheek and caresses it with her thumb. I lean into her touch and let my eyes fall closed.

I can't be mad at them. They're the best parents I could have ever asked for. They were putting my feelings above theirs—like they always have—and making sure I had a good life.

So why am I still mad at them for not telling me?

"I understand," I assure her.

"You know how much we love you, right sweet girl?" I nod and roll my lips to keep from breaking down again.

Of course I know that. It was the one thing they always made sure of.

"There you go, Sweetpea. You're getting it."

"Daddy look! I'm doing it all by myself!"

The old home video plays on my TV for the hundredth time while I sit on my couch, surrounded by tissues, and take out containers that are half full because I haven't wanted to eat anything. I close my eyes and let more tears fall down my face, listening to my dad encourage me as I learned to ride my bike without training wheels for the first time. I'm met with visuals of us riding in his old Chevy with rock music playing, the windows down, and the flavor of the day ice cream in our hands. Mending my broken heart one ride around town at a time. Only now my heart is irreparably broken, and it's because the one who had mended it so many times before, is gone.

Knock knock.

"Le? Open up. We're here to help you get ready."

I don't want to go.

I don't want to accept that he's really gone or have to say my final goodbye. It's not goodbye. I'll never let the memory of him go, he will always be a part of me because he helped shape me into the woman I've become.

I don't want to have to get up and answer the door.

I don't want to accept that I'm going to have to live the rest of my life without him.

A few more soft knocks sound at the door and I drag myself off the couch and across the room to unlatch the deadbolt. Taylor is standing front and center and as soon as I see her my chest aches, but when I see the tears in her eyes and a Bruman's cup in her hands, I completely crumble.

The girls manage to pull me through the process of getting ready for my dad's funeral, all without saying more than was necessary.

"We won't leave your side, okay? You can do this." Shane kisses my cheek and I nod in appreciation. She knows what this feels like. Losing her parents right after high school put her in a really dark place, and I finally know what that place feels like.

The whole service happens like background noise to me. My focus stays on the portrait of my dad next to the urn on the table surrounded by family photos. When we're leaving the church, I can hear the whispered condolences and people gently rubbing my arm in an effort to comfort me.

When I make it outside to the sidewalk a breeze blows through and I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. It's officially spring now—the perfect driving weather.

Though if I tried to drive myself anywhere right now there's a good chance I would end up in a ditch or embedded into a large tree. I haven't completely focused on a single thing outside of home movies in almost a week.

Then I feel it. The sudden chill from someone's eyes being on me. I turn robotically, scanning my surroundings until I see him. Standing in the distance with his hands in his suit pockets, looking almost as broken as I feel.

He came.

His chin lifts slightly when he notices me looking at him and I realize I'm actually looking at him. His sapphire blue eyes full of pain, his perfectly sculpted shoulders hung in despair.

Broken.

"You ready sweetie?" Ruby links her arm with mine, startling me, causing a tear to fall down my cheek when I turn to face her.

I was crying?

When I look over my shoulder Sawyer has disappeared and the focus I had gained, only to look at him, fades away.

Knock knock knock.

I'm headed back to the living room from grabbing another pint of ice cream from the fridge—double chocolate chip, Dad's favorite—when the sound takes me to the door instead.

I don't intend to open it, but I head that direction anyway. Sliding down the wall beside it I can hear my friends on the other side of the door.

" She hasn't responded to any of our texts. We don't even know if she's alive at this point."

"She's grieving, it's a lot to endure—especially by yourself."

"Exactly! She shouldn't be alone. We should be in there with her."

I love them so much. I just can't be around people right now. Not even my people.

"Leah. Sweetie, we wanted to check on you. We don't have to stay or anything, but can you just let us know you're okay?" Shane's voice filters through the thick wooden door.

Of course I'm not okay. But I'm alive. Unless you count dying from a broken heart. In which case I'm a walking corpse.

More tears begin falling down my face as I remain silent.

"Le, baby girl. I'm about five seconds away from busting this door down. Please. Just any sign of life? Knock once if you need us and twice if you're okay but want us to leave."

Lauren.

The one who has been my other half for most of our younger years and still was well into adulthood.

Knock. Knock.

I can hear a collective sigh from them, but I know they're not leaving any time soon. They sit on the other side of the door silently for almost half an hour. Sipping what I assume is coffee since I can hear someone shaking the ice in their cup about ten minutes later. They don't even talk to each other. They're just here. Then when they get up to leave, they say I love you through the door, and leave.

They're still here for me, even when I won't let them be here for me. And that's why they're my best friends.

I've used more PTO at work in the last few weeks than I have any other time in my entire teaching career. I'm not even sure what today is. I know it's April, but beyond that I don't really care. I turned my phone off the day after Dad's funeral when my mom told me that she was heading to her and Dad's favorite campsite and wouldn't have reception. I knew she wouldn't need me, and I put on a brave face to convince her I would be equally as fine.

I'm not.

I'm as far from fine as one can be before ceasing to exist at all, and I don't know how to get back. Back to the life I was just beginning to thrive in and undo the damage that's been done. Losing my dad was an unchangeable, unpredictable tragedy—and by far the worst news I've ever received—but losing Sawyer was a self-inflicted and unnecessary one.

I thought it would hurt less if I didn't have a reminder of the pure joy and all-consuming love I was feeling while part of my heart was leaving the Earth.

Because that's what Sawyer really is to me. Not the awful reminder I accused him of being.

He makes me happy and has given me experiences I never even dreamed I would have before being with him. He makes the pain of our past seem nonexistent, because he reminds me how much he loves me every chance he gets.

At least he used to—before I made the choice to walk away.

Something I had promised I would never do.

Something I should have never done.

When the series finale of Gilmore Girls comes to an end—again—and previews begin playing for shows I may want to watch next, I snap out of my trance to look for the remote. I've officially broken my record for days between hair washes because I can't remember the last time I even showered.

I find it tucked into the couch cushion, start the show over from episode one, and sink deeper into the cocoon I've created around me, breathing in the collar of Sawyer's hoodie, hoping there will still be some trace of his scent on it to help lull me to sleep—something else I haven't done since I returned home from Minnesota.