35. Three Days

35

Three Days

M y hands shaking, I pressed call.

He answered on the first ring. “Where are you?” he demanded harshly.

“Home.”

He scoffed.

“At my Nan’s house,” I corrected. “Baby,” I breathed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He inhaled a shuddering breath. His voice shook. “I fucking love you, Shae.”

My throat ached. “I love you too.”

“You can’t keep leaving me. More, you can’t leave her ,” he stressed.

Shame near buried me. “I know.”

“Do you? Do you, Shae? Because you told me you were afraid of leaving her with a memory, but you just up and walked away at the first sign of trouble.” He chuckled bitterly. “And let’s be honest, you’re not the first mother to walk away from her.”

“It-it was a shock.”

“I get that. Zoe was completely out of line. But I never gave her any reason to believe she could ever take your place.”

“It felt like every other time,” I explained. “I panicked.”

He was quiet on his end of the line.

“I didn’t want to lose her.”

Still, he didn’t speak.

“Gabe,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“But you were willing to lose me?”

“No—” I wanted to defend myself, but my mind drew a blank.

“Shae-baby,” he murmured, his voice pained. “I love you more than life and I’d take any risk to have you. But it’s not just about me. You have your place here with Dylan and me. I can’t tell you exactly how that will look, but it is yours. Take a few days. Make sure.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “I don’t need a few days.”

He paused. His exhale shuddered. “I do.”

I sat with my hand over my mouth, tears streaming down my face, the sound of my broken heart bouncing off the walls long after he closed the call.

The next morning, I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling with nowhere to go.

No Ayana’s.

No job.

No kissing Gabe goodbye.

No dropping Dylan off at daycare.

No meeting the girls for coffee.

No buying groceries and making dinner for the three of us.

And no picking Dylan up.

The little things.

The mundane.

A million tiny drops of light to paint a beautiful life.

Nan used to talk about how poor they were when they emigrated from Ireland with their baby boy. She smiled when she reminisced about how scared they were. How they had only each other to depend on.

That man pulled me through every bad thing that ever happened to us.

She laughed when she told me about the time she emptied a glass of icy water over him when he was in the shower. It so startled him that he ripped the shower rod and curtain clear off the wall.

She giggled over the flowers he bought that gave her an allergic reaction and sent them to the ER.

Her face softened as she remembered sleeping with their feet intertwined every single night, even when one or both were mad as a hornet.

Hunting down his wallet and keys every morning.

Quickies in the back office of Ayana’s.

His favorite shorts he refused to throw out until the waistband gave out and they dropped to his ankles when he was working in the front yard.

How she hated zucchini bread to this day after the summer he grew them as big as her leg. She laughed as she remembered pawning them off on the neighbors before he came home from work.

The sunflower seeds that reminded her of days at the ballpark when my dad was a boy, Grampy standing along the fence, chomping on them nervously while he cheered my dad on.

A million tiny drops of light.

A most beautiful life.

Not perfect.

But beautiful just the same.

After my shower, I wandered into my room and sat down at Nan’s vanity.

“I messed up, Nan,” I whispered, looking in the mirror.

I could see her, faintly, in the lines and contours of my face. I looked like my dad, but my dad looked like Nan.

I had her coloring as well.

But I had my mother’s eyes.

I picked up the delicate pink perfume bottle and pried off the top. Holding it to my nose, I inhaled. I could barely remember her face, but I could feel her love.

Sure, no one ever really leaves .

Carefully replacing it, I pressed my palms flat on the table and pushed to my feet.

I had phone calls to make.

Boxes to buy.

Memories to keep.

Nan’s voice rang my head, “Don’t be standing there with your two arms the one length. Get busy.”

I spent the rest of the morning and the better part of the afternoon making calls. When I finally put down the phone, I did so knowing there would be no going back for me.

No going back for any of us.

Gabe asked for a few days, and that was all I intended to give him.

That being the case, I called Bridge.

I could use a little help.

We packed everything I wanted into boxes and hauled the rest away to the resale center. The craft room was a nightmare, but it’s amazing what I accomplished with a little motivation.

And I was motivated.

Three days without his voice, his touch, his arms around me.

Three days without her little face.

Three days knowing he was scared and hurting and I couldn’t do anything about it.

I met with the real estate agent, got a quote from the mover, and canceled the TV subscriptions.

I separated my most precious items along with my clothes and personal items from the rest. Somehow, I crammed everything, including Nan’s vanity, into the back of my car.

I checked out the storage facility and arranged space for my furniture and anything else that might not fit into Gabe’s, or God forbid, that might have to wait until I got my own place.

I pushed that thought away, confined the ‘what if’ to a tiny box in the back of my brain stacked next to the one I mentally labeled, ‘I’ll be okay.’

I had one last errand before I could leave.

I knocked on Mrs. Mason’s door. She answered with a smile that slowly faded as she took in my face.

Dipping her chin, she peered up at me from beneath her brow. “Tell me you’re going to that tall drink of water, and I’ll forgive you for leaving.”

I chuckled. “I am.”

Pulling me into a hug, she murmured, “Happy for you, Shae. I wish you every blessing.”

I sniffed. “Thank you, Mrs. Mason.”

She pulled back and jerked her chin toward Mrs. Wemberly’s door. “Don’t forget to say bye to the old bat. She talks a good game, but she cares.”

I laughed. “Oh, I know she does!”

Stooping down, I gathered the roses, Nan’s favorite, and passed them to her friend.

“Ach, love,” she whispered. “Your Nan would love these.”

“You love them for her, okay?” I asked, tears straining my voice.

With one last hug, she closed her door, and I moved to Mrs. Wemberly’s door.

My knuckles barely brushed the surface before she opened it.

Her appraising eyes ran over my form, then looked over my shoulder to my packed car on the street, before returning sharply to mine. “Well?”

I swallowed. “I’m not going to have regrets.”

Her face softened. “That’s my girl.”

She stepped back as if to close her door.

“Wait!” I cried out, stooping down to the giftbag at my feet and handed it to her. “Think of me now and then,” I choked out. “And know I’ll never forget you.”