Chapter Twenty-Four
Bryce
Bodie
Are you home? I need to talk to you.
I’ve been staring at Bodie’s text for the past fifteen minutes.
I woke up in such a great mood, only to get the dreaded “we need to talk” text.
I want to believe I’m overthinking this, but I’ve been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop since I told Bodie about the accident.
Deep down, I know Bodie would never treat me the way Josh did.
It’s just hard to get out of that frame of mind.
Sort of like my guilt over the accident.
I need to finally come to terms with it not being my fault—at least not entirely.
“Bryce,” Bodie shouts as soon as the door opens.
“I’m right here, beautiful.”
His bright-blue eyes hone in on me in the living room, and all my anxiety goes away for a brief moment.
“Hey.” Bodie gives a half-smile and slowly walks over, then sits down next to me, his forehead creased.
“This doesn’t look like it’s going to be a fun conversation.”
“Yeah, fun wouldn’t be the word I’d use to describe this,” he says, starting to pick at his cuticles.
“What’s going on, Bodie?” The tightness in my jaw amplifies by a hundred with every passing second that he stays silent.
“So, Coach called me in. I, uh, got called up.”
The jolt of excitement I have for him forces me into his arms. “Bodie, that’s incredible.”
When I pull back and see he’s not smiling along with me, the mood changes. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Bodie says, cupping my face in his palm.
“When do you leave? And where to?”
“That’s the thing. I’m only going to Raleigh. Less than three hours away.”
“When, Bodie?”
“A little over a month.”
I nod, taking it all in and staying silent before I react poorly. It’s happening again. I open up to someone, and they leave me. Yes, it’s different circumstances, and I know Bodie wouldn’t if he had a choice, but it’s still happening.
“So, we make the best of the next month,” I say, trying to stay positive while my mind is telling me to crawl under a blanket and disappear.
“Bryce, don’t talk like that. We can make long distance work. It’s not that far away. I’ve been on the road for long stretches before. It’ll be just like that.” His rationalization seems plausible, but it doesn’t help.
“Okay.” My mouth says one thing, while my mind screams the opposite. I want to beg him to stay, to not leave me, but I would never. This is his dream.
He wraps his arms around me, tucking me into him as he lies back on the couch while my heart breaks for what we could’ve been.
Thankfully, Bodie didn’t ask why I was leaving early for work. After our conversation yesterday, and opening up to him before that about the accident, everything feels out of sorts. I need to talk to her—this conversation is long overdue—and maybe she can help me decide what to do about Bodie.
I knock lightly and call out to her as I open the door.
“Bryce?” She comes into the hallway, wearing her favorite apron and a big smile. It almost breaks my heart to have this conversation while she has my father’s apron on. “What are you doing here? I love surprises, but you need to warn a lady so she can look presentable.”
I laugh with her, giving her a big hug. “You always look beautiful, Mom.”
“Nonsense. Well, I was just making some lunch. Do you want to join me?”
“Okay, but I don’t have a ton of time before work. I’d like to, uh, talk about some things.” I fidget with my fingers in my pockets as we walk into the kitchen.
“Sure, honey. What’s going on? Everything okay with you and Bodie?” There goes that intuition again.
“Yes and no.” I sit down opposite her at the table. “He got called up. To Raleigh.”
She tilts her head, offering me her soft “mom look,” sucking in her lips while she encases my hands in hers. “And when does he leave?”
“A little over a month.”
“Are you thinking of going with him?”
“How can I? My life has always been here. Work, friends, you. How could I leave you all behind?”
“But how could you leave the man you were always meant to be with?”
Our eyes meet and stay connected while I try to process what she’s telling me.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me you were on the phone with Dad during the accident?”
Her smile fades, her hand covering her mouth as she tucks her chin to her chest. We sit in silence until she regains her composure.
“I always knew you’d ask me. I still wasn’t prepared.”
“What do you have to prepare for, Mom? You knew what I went through, but you were going through it too. You lost the man you were always meant to be with. Why would I be upset? You at least had Aunt Lisa come stay to help take care of me.”
“Bryce…” She pauses as the first tear falls down her cheek. “Please don’t.”
“Talk to me, please. We’ve never talked about Dad together. Why? I know you went through the worst period of your life afterward, but what are you so afraid of?”
“I don’t want you to hate me, Bryce. Please.”
“Mom, I could never hate you.” I swallow hard before I say the dreaded words I never thought I could say to her. “The accident was my fault. I’m sorry I took him from you.”
“What?” I lift my gaze and see her wide eyes. “Bryce, how could you think that?”
“How could I not? If I wasn’t screaming for my ball, he would still be here today.”
“Oh, Bryce, honey. The accident wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”
“What?”
“I truly never wanted to have this conversation with you, and I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t forgive me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Bryce, I told your father to pull over and take off his seatbelt to get the ball. He insisted on leaving it on. When he started to get frustrated, I kept telling him to take it off, and we started to argue. It was only for a minute or two, but it upset your father enough to hang up on me. And when the police officers told me he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, I knew it was because I told him to take it off. ”
I hate to see my mother in tears, but her condition after the accident makes more sense now. She’s blamed herself all these years—like I’ve blamed myself.
“Why don’t I remember the argument?” My question makes me think back to something my therapist said.
Our memories work in mysterious ways when it comes to trauma. Sometimes memories are wiped out like they never existed. It’s possibly our mind’s way of protecting us from something that could traumatize us further.
“I remember not understanding why he was talking to himself, but I never heard him arguing with anyone.”
“Bryce, he didn’t want to upset you. He kept his voice low but stern, and you were crying for your ball.” She ends in a whisper.
“That’s why you were stuck so deep in depression.”
“Guilt,” she corrects me.
“We’ve both been blaming ourselves for this since the accident.
” I drop my chin to my chest in disbelief before looking my mother in the eyes.
“Mom. I’m going to tell you the same thing Bodie told me.
Dad made the choice to take off his seatbelt.
Whether either of us upset him or not, he made that decision.
Instead of pulling over, he was at a traffic light and didn’t put the car in park.
I get he was flustered, but he made that decision, and we can’t spend the rest of our lives beating ourselves up for it. ”
I move to my mother’s side of the table and take her in my arms. “I wish we would’ve talked about this sooner. Promise me no more secrets, and I’ll do the same,” I say softly as she nods vehemently into my shoulder.
We sit quietly for a few minutes while I comfort my mother in ways I couldn’t as a child.
When she sounds ready, I break the mood with, “Okay, enough going down horrible memory lane. Can you tell me what I’m supposed to do about Bodie, please?
” My question comes out as a whine, causing my mother to burst into laughter.
“You whine like that to him? I’d leave your ass too.”
“Mom, did you just swear? Where’s the swear jar? You owe me money.” I succeed in throwing her into another fit of laughter.
“How about this? I’ll pay you for swearing when you move to Raleigh with Bodie.”
“Mom—”
“No buts. Just do it, or you’ll never forgive yourself.”
I’d argue with her, but she’s right, and she knows it. She stands with a smile on her face to go make lunch for us.
“Hey.” She turns to me, and I cross the kitchen to her, wrapping my arms around her one more time. “Thank you.” She pats my back and marks my cheek with the lip gloss she loves to wear before ordering me around the kitchen to help with lunch.