33. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
WESTON
I woke up the next morning feeling like a wreck, both physically and emotionally. As if a bus had hit me, and I was left to pick up the pieces alone. It was surreal to think that just yesterday, I was contemplating spending the rest of my life with Becky, and now she was gone. As I shuffled into the kitchen, I was taken aback by the presence of my mother. She had obviously stayed the night again. She leaned against the countertop, her expression serious and stern. Oh boy.
She wordlessly handed me a steaming cup of coffee and motioned for me to sit down. I complied, feeling like a child once more .
“What are you going to do about Becky?” she asked bluntly, cutting straight to the point. Her eyes bore into mine, and I could tell that she was disappointed.
I hung my head, struggling to keep my composure. The reality of the situation hit me hard—I had lost the woman I thought I loved, and I didn’t know how to fix it.
“I don’t know, Mom,” I replied, letting out a big sigh. “Her leaving is for the best. It’s what she wants. I can’t protect her from everything, and that freaks me out. I’m better on my own, anyway.”
“Hogwash. Of course, you can’t protect her from everything. You aren’t God,” she said sternly.
Woah! Mom’s words hit their mark. They set off a cascade of thoughts, thoughts that had been lingering since my conversation with Brenda.
Of course I wasn’t God. Why did I feel like I had to protect myself and Becky from everything? I couldn’t. Why did I feel responsible for Dad’s and Jared’s deaths? I wasn’t.
“And on that note, no-one is better on their own. God created us for relationships and community. Son, since Jared died, you have excluded yourself from connecting meaningfully with anyone.”
I winced at the mention of Jared’s death and the fact that she spoke the truth .
“I know this topic steps on your toes, but I wouldn’t be a good mother if I didn’t speak up,” she said firmly. “Becky was good for you. When she was in the room, you were different. I caught sight of the Weston I knew before you started shutting people out. Connection is a good thing, and I can’t stand here and watch you give it up without a fight.”
“You don’t understand. Relationships aren’t easy for me,” I protested weakly.
“I didn’t say it would be easy.”
Mom waited for me to look at her before continuing, “I said we… you… need community,” she said with conviction. “It doesn’t have to be Becky, although I love her, but you need to let people in.”
“I know I need to change, but she is gone now,” I said, hopelessness in every word.
Mom’s response cut through the air like a knife. “Because you acted like a fool when she discovered some rather embarrassing news.”
Her words stung, but I knew she was right. I had been foolish to react the way I did when Becky’s debt issues came to light.
“Well, I can’t change the past.” A pang of regret stabbed my chest .
Mom’s eyes softened, and she reached out to take my hand. “No, you can’t,” she agreed. “But you can change your future.”
I looked at her with a glimmer of hope. “What should I do?” I asked, eager for any advice she could offer.
“That’s not for me to decide. But I know you’ll do the right thing.”
Mom turned to leave and as I watched her gather her bags, I knew in my heart what I had to do. I had to find a way to make things right with Becky. Maybe a relationship was too much to hope for, but I could right my wrongs.
Hours later, I sat in the same spot Mom had left me in; my thoughts swirling in a whirlpool of regret and longing. I wanted to respect Becky’s request for space, so I found myself hesitating to dial her number. Not to mention the fear of stumbling over my words or, worse, freezing up entirely. Texting Becky felt too impersonal, too detached for the depth of what I needed to convey. I was at a loss, painfully aware of my shortcomings in this area.
Needing advice, I decided a woman’s insight might steer me better. Naturally, I thought of Darcy. I tapped her contact on my phone, my heart pounding with a blend of nerves and hope.
“Hey, Darce,” I began, my voice cracking slightly with desperation. “I messed up with Becky last night, and I’m struggling to find a way to fix it. I’m lost here and I don’t trust myself to say the right things over the phone. Or in person for that matter. What should I do?”
There was a brief silence, then Darcy’s voice came through, steady and cautious. “Weston, do you even know what you want? You can’t just play games with Becky’s feelings. She looked pretty shattered last night.”
She always had a way of calling me out, making me face the tough questions head-on. “I know. I want her in my life, Darce,” I replied, my resolve clear.
Darcy let out a thoughtful sigh. “Then why not write her a letter? It’ll give you a chance to sort out your thoughts properly.”
“A letter? Isn’t that a bit old-fashioned?”
“I hate to break it to you, brother, but you’re a bit old-fashioned,” she said, a gentle tease in her tone. “Perhaps an email then. It allows you the same thoughtfulness.”
Gratitude washed over me. “Thanks, Darcy. That’s actually a great idea.”
“Just be careful, Weston,” she warned, her voice full of concern. “With your heart and hers.”
I smiled. Her caution was typical, but my conviction was unshakable. “I will.”
“Alright,” she conceded. “I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks, sis,” I said, ending the call with a newfound sense of purpose. I immediately reached out to Gray for Becky’s email address, my heart racing with the hope of mending what was broken and expressing the depth of my feelings.