Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ashley
I woke up in my old bedroom, the familiar creak of the floorboards under me as I rolled out of bed, the house quiet now, too quiet without Mom’s soft breathing down the hall.
It’d been two days since I’d found her gone on the couch, two days since Darryl had held me in the hospital, my tears finally drying up, leaving me hollow, numb.
Today was the wake, set up in our living room, and I’d been moving through it all like a ghost, getting dressed in a simple black dress, the bracelet Darryl gave me still on my wrist, a little piece of him keeping me steady.
I walked downstairs, the air heavy with flowers and coffee, Mom’s friends and neighbors already trickling in, their voices low as they set out casseroles and trays of sandwiches on the dining table.
Darryl was there too, in a dark shirt and jeans, helping Dad move chairs, his eyes catching mine with a small nod as I stepped in.
“Hey,” he said, walking over, his hand resting on my arm, warm and solid. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice flat, nodding back, forcing a small smile. “Thanks for being here.”
“Always,” he said, squeezing my arm gently before stepping back as more people came in, their murmured condolences blending into a hum.
I moved through them, shaking hands, nodding at their soft words, “She was so great,” “We’re so sorry,” my face a mask, no tears left, just a dull ache I couldn’t shake.
“Thanks for coming,” I said to Mrs. Carter from next door, taking her plate of cookies, setting it on the table. “Appreciate it.”
“Of course, sweetie,” she said, patting my hand, her eyes wet. “Carol was special.”
“Yeah,” I said, my throat tight but dry, turning to greet Mr. Evans, who’d brought a thermos of coffee, his wife trailing with a fruit tray. “Hey, good to see you,” I said, taking the thermos, pouring it into a pitcher, my hands steady even if my chest felt empty.
“Anything you need,” he said, his voice gruff, clapping my shoulder. “She’d be proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I said, nodding, moving on to the next group, Darryl’s mom, Nancy, stepping in with a big dish of lasagna, Ted behind her with a stack of paper plates. “Hey, Nancy,” I said, taking the dish, setting it down, forcing another smile. “This looks great.”
“Had to bring something,” she said, hugging me quickly, her arms warm but quick. “How are you holding up?”
“Okay,” I said, my voice even, stepping back. “Thanks for this.”
“Anytime,” Ted said, setting the plates down, nodding at me. “We’re here.”
“Appreciate it,” I said, turning as Jen came in, her arms full of flowers, setting them by Mom’s picture on the mantel, a shot of her laughing from last year, her scarf bright against the gray frame. “Hey, Jen,” I said, walking over, adjusting a vase. “Those are pretty.”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling softly, touching my arm. “Thought she’d like them.”
“She would,” I said, nodding, moving back to the table, pouring coffee for a cousin I hadn’t seen in years, handing out napkins, keeping busy, numb but functional.
People milled around, eating, talking low, and I floated through it, offering plates, thanking them, my voice steady, my eyes dry, the hollow spot in me growing heavier but not breaking.
I finally sat down, my legs tired, sinking into an armchair by the couch, the chatter fading to a background hum.
Mom’s phone was on the side table, left there from that night, and I picked it up, swiping it open, her lock screen a pic of us from Christmas.
I scrolled aimlessly, photos popping up, us at the park, her with that goofy scarf, and then a video, timestamped a week ago, her face filling the screen.
I hit play, my breath catching as her voice came through, soft but clear.
“Hey, Ashley,” she said, sitting on this couch, smiling at the camera, her scarf slipping a bit.
“If you’re seeing this, I’m probably gone.
Just wanted to say I love you, kid. You’re my everything, always have been.
Don’t be sad too long, okay? You’ve got Darryl, he’s a good one, and I’m so happy you’re taken care of. Live big, for me. Love you.”
The screen froze on her smile, and the dam broke, tears spilling hot down my cheeks, a sob ripping out of me, loud and raw, my hands shaking as I clutched the phone.
“Mom,” I said, my voice breaking, curling into myself, the room spinning as I cried, the numbness shattering, pain flooding in sharp and fast. “No, no, no,” I whispered, sobbing hard, my chest heaving, tears soaking my dress.
“Hey,” Darryl said, there fast, kneeling in front of me, his hands on my arms, pulling me close. “I’ve got you, Ashley. Breathe.”
“I can’t,” I said, sobbing into his shoulder, my hands gripping his shirt, shaking hard. “She’s gone, Darryl, she left me that, she knew, I can’t do this.”
“You can,” he said, his voice steady, rubbing my back slowly, holding me tight. “Let it out, I’m here, just breathe with me, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, my voice shaky, nodding against him, my sobs slowing a bit, his hands warm on my back, his shirt damp under my face. “She said she loves me, said you’re good, I can’t, it’s too much.”
“She did,” he said, kissing my forehead quickly, his voice soft. “She’s right. I’ve got you. Take your time.”
I nodded, crying quietly now, clinging to him, his arms keeping me steady as the tears kept coming, slower but steady, my breath hitching less.
Nancy and Ted stepped over, their faces soft but hesitant, Nancy holding a tissue box, Ted shifting awkward behind her.
“Hey, sweetie,” Nancy said, handing me a tissue, her voice gentle.
“We hate to bring this up, but the event planner called about the wedding. What’s the plan? ”
I wiped my face, my hands shaking, looking up at them, Darryl’s arm still around me, solid and warm. “It’s off,” I said, my voice raw, the words heavy but true. “It was fake, for Mom. I’m sorry, I can’t do it now.”
“Oh,” Ted said, his brows lifting, glancing at Nancy, then back at me. “Fake?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding, tears welling up again, my throat tight. “We planned it to make her happy, to see me in a dress before her, before this. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.”
“Hey,” Nancy said, stepping closer, touching my shoulder. “No, sorry, needed. We get it.”
“Yeah,” Ted said, nodding slowly. “Whatever you need, kid.”
“Thanks,” I said, my voice breaking, looking at Darryl, his face tight but steady beside me. “Can you explain it to them? Somewhere else, not here? I can’t.”
“Sure,” he said, kissing my temple quickly, his hand squeezing my arm. “I’ll handle it.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding weak, wiping my eyes again as Riva stepped over, her uniform swapped for a black top, her eyes soft as she knelt beside me.
“I’ve got her,” she said, looking at Darryl, nodding firmly. “Go talk. She’s good with me.”
“Thanks,” he said, standing slow, giving my hand one last squeeze before walking off with his parents, their voices fading as they headed to the kitchen. Riva slid onto the couch beside me, pulling me into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around me, strong and warm.
“Hey,” she said, her voice low, rubbing my back. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”
“No,” I said, crying softly into her shoulder, my hands clutching her shirt, shaking again. “She’s gone, Riva, it’s real, I can’t.”
“I know,” she said, holding me tighter, her hand smoothing my hair. “It sucks, babe. I’m here, let it out.”
I did, sobbing quietly now, my face buried in her shoulder, her shirt damp under me, her hug keeping me from falling apart completely as the wake hummed on around us, voices low, the truth out, Mom’s video still playing in my head, breaking me all over again.