Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CALEB
My heart pounds erratically and my body is coated in a cold sweat as I sit up in bed. The darkness surrounds me and I blink my eyes, my chest heaving as I reach for my phone on the nightstand. I grab it in a haste, the screen lighting up as I turn it toward my face.
Somehow, without even reading it, I know what the date is.
Amelia’s birthday.
It’s like my body knows, even when I try to block it from my mind. I knew this day was approaching, yet I’ve let myself get distracted. I’ve leaned into those distractions in an effort to keep my mind from wandering, from hyper-fixating. From spiraling.
Every year since I lost Amelia, her birthday has been the hardest day for me.
The anniversary of her death sucks, but it’s just a reminder of the day we lost her.
Her birthday, however, has now become the start of another year for her, another year we’re without her.
Another year taken away that she doesn’t get to grow old, watching our little girl.
And somehow, I neglected to acknowledge it coming on so quickly. I forgot to schedule my normal therapy appointment that I always do a few days before. I knew it was coming, but I chose to not think about it until this very moment.
I close my eyes, locking my phone and letting it fall onto the bed. A deep sigh escapes me, my chest deflating as guilt rolls through me at full force. There’s no sense in trying to go back to sleep, as I know it will never find me now.
After a few minutes pass, I pull myself up out of bed and head directly into the bathroom, not stopping until I’m stepping beneath the hot water in the shower.
Just for good measure, I turn it a bit hotter, feeling the scorching heat seeping through my skin as I stand directly beneath the stream, letting it flow over my body.
I stay in the shower until the water turns warm, until I’ve scrubbed myself three separate times, as if the action alone is going to wash away the guilt. Like it will wash away a single ounce of my pain.
Tella is still in bed, as she should be, so I get dressed, brush my teeth, and head down to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.
My appetite is nonexistent and I don’t imagine it will come at all today.
It feels weird for it to be another year passing.
Amelia is frozen as a twenty-five year old.
She’s frozen in that year, not moving forward with the rest of the world as the earth continues to spin.
It’s such a weird fucking thing, I hate thinking about it.
Leaving my coffee black, I grab my mug and head out onto the back deck, just as the sun begins to rise.
Taking a seat, I stare out at the pool and lift my coffee mug to my lips as I watch the sunlight shimmer on the surface of the water.
I don’t know how I’ve lost count of the days, but the guilt seeps heavily into my soul, weighing on my shoulders.
I’ve never once forgotten her birthday. I’ve never once forgotten the day that tears me apart inside.
I take another sip of my coffee, allowing the guilt to encapsulate me as I lift my gaze from the pool and up to the sky. It’s a beautiful morning and it’s quiet, which weirdly feels fitting for the day to remember Amelia. These kinds of mornings were always her favorite.
Reaching into my front pocket, I pull out my phone and open up my text messages.
My eyes scan the names listed and their respective threads, pausing when they stumble upon Mia’s name.
She’s supposed to be coming later for when I have to go to practice, but I’m not sure I want to see her—not on a day like today.
I don’t want her to see me like this, like a shell of a person.
I suck in a deep breath and instead tap on my therapist’s name.
I forgot to schedule an appointment. Do you have any time available today?
Sandy
Of course. Can you do eight thirty?
Virtual?
Sandy
I’ll send you a link.
After closing out of her messages, I send a text to Andi.
Can Tella come over to your house today during practice?
She texts me back immediately.
Andi
Anything you need.
Then it’s followed by a separate text from Carson.
Carson
Did you order a cake?
My throat bobs as I swallow hard.
Yes.
Carson
Send me the details. I’ll pick it up after practice.
My nostrils flare, emotion welling deep inside my chest. Three years ago, Carson decided we still needed to celebrate Amelia’s birthday, even if she isn’t here to celebrate with us.
She was always the life of the party and if there was something to celebrate, she was putting some kind of an event together.
It feels weird, celebrating without her, but in a way, it’s more for Tella than anything. For the last three years, Tella and I have been going over to Carson’s to have dinner, cake, and spend the evening telling our favorite stories about Amelia.
She was detached from her family, so we were always all that she had.
I send the details for the cake pick up to Carson, then look back through my messages. My finger hovers over Mia’s name. I should have given her a heads up. I should have made these plans before today, but here we are.
Hey. T is going to Carson and Andi’s this afternoon, so you don’t need to come today.
Mia texts back in an instant and in the back of my mind, I remember her telling me how she used to hate mornings, but became a morning person over time.
Mia
Are you sure? Is everything okay?
Yes and yes.
She doesn’t respond again, so I get up from my seat, heading back into the house. I need to wake Tella up, but that can wait until after. I turn my phone on “do not disturb” and head into my office, settling in front of my computer for my therapy appointment.
It’s not something that offers a magical fix, but somehow, it truly does help.
I’m fairly certain I blacked out during my therapy appointment, but I end the virtual visit feeling a little bit lighter as I head up to Tella’s room to wake her up.
I pause by the side of the bed, my eyes traveling over the planes of her face.
She looks so peaceful and innocent in her sleep.
Her relaxed features look the same as Amelia’s.
My heart hurts as I stare down at her, reaching to brush her hair away from her face.
“Hey, T, it’s time to wake up.”
She stirs, her eyelids popping open as she stretches her arms above her head. “Can we snuggle for a second?” she asks, her voice filled with sleep as she rubs at her eyes.
“Of course,” I murmur, climbing into her bed with her, pulling her into my arms. She nestles in against me. “You’re going to go hang out with Aunt Andi and Matteo while I’m at practice and then we’ll have cake for your mommy’s birthday.”
“Okay.” Tella takes a deep breath. “Do we get to have vanilla cake again?”
A tender smile lifts my lips. “It was her favorite.”
“I like vanilla too, but I don’t think it’s my favorite,” she says, a frown tugging down on her lips.
“That’s okay,” I assure her, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “Just because it was her favorite doesn’t mean it has to be yours too.”
“Do you miss her?”
“I do,” I tell her, letting out a deep breath. I miss Amelia every damn day, but the pain has gotten lighter over the years. It doesn’t feel as visceral as it once did, which also fills me with guilt. What kind of a husband does that make me if I don’t miss my dead wife every second of every day?
What kind of husband does it make me if there are times where I don’t think about her anymore?
There was once a period in my life after she died that it was all I could think about.
All I could focus on was the fact that she wasn’t here and I still was.
That I had to continue on in life without her.
As time grew on, those thoughts faded away.
I began to move on in life with nothing left to hang onto but her memory.
And even now, as those memories become more and more distant, I find myself thinking of them less. Thinking of her less. Amelia’s gone, but the rest of us aren’t. We’re all still here.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” Tella says softly, rolling to sit up as she pats the top of my head. “You’ll get to see her again someday.”
Guilt prickles beneath my ribcage. There was a low point in those first few days after her death where I wanted to end it all, just for the possibility of getting to see her again.
But then, this little girl—our little girl—brought me back to reality.
She needs me today like she needed me then, and she’ll need me for the years to come.
I hate myself for ever entertaining the thought of leaving her alone.
“I know,” I agree, smiling at her as she climbs over me and gets out of bed. I slowly sit up, watching her as she disappears from the room, heading into the bathroom. “I’ll be downstairs, T,” I tell her when I finally get up and head out into the hallway.
My footsteps feel heavy as I head back down to the first floor, stopping when I reach the island in the kitchen. I pick up my phone. It’s still on “do not disturb” so I turn it off. As soon as I do, an unread message comes through, followed by another. My stomach immediately drops.
Mia
Did I do something wrong?
If it’s about the other day, that’s my fault and I’m sorry for that.
The muscle in my jaw tightens as I read over her messages two more times.
That was my fault, not yours.
And no, you did nothing wrong.
I suck in a deep breath, my lungs expanding before I let them deflate.
Today would be Amelia’s thirty-first birthday. We celebrate it every year with my brother.
I’m so sorry.
Happy birthday, Amelia.
My throat constricts and my hands shake as I type out a one-word response.
Thanks.
And then I power off my phone . . .
And my mind.