31. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
O n Thursday morning I wake up to six texts from Chase. Now I am starting to feel a little annoyed. Come on, Chase, you’re a smart guy.
I open my app anyway and click on his name.
Chase: Hi, Mom. A wise person once told me that writing out your feelings can be therapeutic, so I’m going to give it a shot. I’m not exactly sure how to do this, but here goes. I … miss you. You left so unexpectedly. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’ve never felt so hurt, or heartbroken. I’ve never felt so sad about anything in my life. I’ve been avoiding my feelings, trying anything to just not feel. Don’t worry, I’ve stayed away from the wrong stuff. But I’ve still been avoiding. I’ve been coping in other ways. You’d be impressed by the list of adventurous things I’ve tried … I’ve become a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Or maybe you wouldn’t. You never got into that stuff. I just want to say that I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save you. I felt so helpless in that hospital room, seeing all those machines hooked up to you. I’m just so sorry. This is really hard. Feeling my feelings.
Chase: Hi, Mom. Dad is not doing well. I’m sure that’s to be expected, but I don’t know how to handle it. And what I’ve been doing so far—ignoring it all and hoping things will change—is not working. He hardly ever talks to me or Kenzie. He just sits in that house, in his robe, watching TV. Kenzie has been checking on him. I need to. Speaking of Kenzie (I don’t want to be a tattle, but), she didn’t want to get married after you died. She wanted to cancel it. But Trevor talked her around. I’m glad she has him. Someone she can talk to. The wedding is still happening in February, by the way. So all that prep you did was worth it. Kenzie is happy that you were there when she picked out her dress. But we both agree it won’t be the same without you. None of this life is the same without you. I hate that feeling. You’re the glue, Mom. You’re what kept us together. Without you, it feels like we’re all a little lost. I know I am.
Chase: Hey, Mom. Remember that time when Kenz and I were younger and you came home from work to find the paint peeled off that kitchen cabinet? And no one would admit to it? It was me. I’d found a piece of paint that had gotten wet in the corner, and it just … peeled off. It was really fun. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I guess you probably knew. So thanks for not calling me out on it. Also, that goat in the lunchroom my senior year? Also me. I know you found that funny, but maybe you wouldn’t have if you’d known who did it. I have more. SO much more. Maybe you don’t want to know. It feels good to tell you, though.
Chase: Hi, Mom. I just called Dad. We talked for 30 minutes. It was good to hear his voice. I should have been talking to him more. I hate that I avoided him so much. It hurts to admit that—to write it to you. I have to face it, though. I have to own it. I can see you looking down on me now, shaking your head the way you used to when you disapproved of something I’d done. I deserve the disapproval. I’ll make it right, Mom. I promise. Anyway, it was good to talk to Dad. He … he sounded better as the conversation went on. We talked about you, and about Kenzie, and about me leaving for London. I promised I would go over there tomorrow and see him before I left. I also told him he should come visit me in London, and for the first time, I heard a bit of lightness in his voice. Maybe? Like that thought—him coming to see me—made his day a little lighter. I hope he does come to see me.
Chase: Hey, Mom. I saw Dad today. Kenzie came too. It’s one of the few times we’ve been together since the funeral. It was horrible to realize that. I’ve been selfish. I’m trying not to beat myself up about it. What good would it do? That’s what you would tell me—what good would it do? I can still hear your voice in my head. So perfectly. We talked about you a lot … and cried. It was good. It was good to talk about you with the people who love you the most in this world. You are missed, Mom. So much.
Chase: I’ve been writing these in my notes app on my phone for the past few days. Thought you might want to read them. Or maybe you don’t. But either way, you were right … it feels like therapy.
I stare at my phone, feeling so many things in this moment. I’ve been crying as I’ve read his words, the tears flowing freely down my face. I feel all this—everything that he’s written. I know exactly where he’s coming from.
I send him back a text.
Maggie: I’m glad it helped .
Then I send a heart emoji.
“ W hat are you going to do?” Hannah asks that night over gamjatang that Halmoni made us. It’s a spicy soup with pork and potatoes, and it’s amazing. I’m on my second bowl, which got a pat of approval on my head from Halmoni.
I’ve just told Hannah about Chase’s texts. I didn’t let her read them—it felt like betraying a trust to do that. I just gave her general information.
“What can I do?” I ask.
“You could … talk to him?” She tilts her head to the side, giving me her best sardonic glare.
“I could,” I say. “But what do I say?”
She doubles down on the glare. This time with a touch of annoyance. “I don’t know, maybe tell him your feelings?”
I pull my face back. “I did that, remember? I got shot down. Why would I want to do that again?”
“He’s clearly telling you all this for a reason.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “He’s just showing me that I was right about him avoiding his feelings. That’s all. It’s not like he was declaring his love for me or anything.”
“That’s true,” she says, swirling her soup with her spoon.
“He’s leaving for London tomorrow anyway.”
“Also true,” she says. “I’m sure you’ll hear from him again, though.”
“I’m sure,” I say.
“And maybe when he gets back …”
I wave her insinuating words away. “I can’t think like that, Han. I’ll make myself crazy if I do. Too many what-ifs.”
“I guess,” she says. “I just hate seeing you like this.”
I give her a sad smile. “Me too.”