36. Dana
Dana
S ix months.
I hadn’t talked to him in six months .
No matter how much time has passed, I still found myself falling asleep questioning everything, thinking of him, and replaying the good memories over and over until sleep finally found me.
I missed him with everything in my being, and with each passing day, what Dad had said to me made more and more sense.
I didn’t think I could handle life alone, and I chose to fight it with her so I wouldn’t have to.
Maybe Dad was the one that was stronger than me.
“Can you pass the syrup?”
I picked up the jug and passed it across the table to Mom. That was a new addition to my life—trying to work things out with her, or at least get to a point of tolerating being in the same room.
It was a slow-moving process.
“Mama!”
I grinned at Drew as he kicked in Vee’s lap, one arm outstretched to me, my mouth wrapped around a bite of pancakes. “What?” I said, the sound muffled.
He was officially one year old as of a week ago, and the party Lottie had insisted on throwing for him had ended in a screaming match between me and my mother, and a two-man food fight between Brody and Drew. Our brunch date was a sort of reconciliation.
“When do you start classes?” Mom asked, and I dragged my gaze away from my son to look at her.
It was as if I were seeing her in a new light. She looked different, better, but I supposed that was a byproduct of eating real food instead of only drinking alcohol.
“Next week.”
“What’s your major?”
I shrugged. “Don’t have one yet. Haven’t decided. I’ll just study the basics this year and we’ll see how it goes.”
A silence hung between us for a moment as we both ate.
Vee didn’t make a peep, she was here to be our referee and to keep Drew happy.
I hadn’t quite forgiven her yet, but she seemed more than happy to pretend like nothing had happened between us.
That was how she operated—what had passed was in the past. She never wallowed in it.
“I’m proud of you, you know,” Mom said, and I wanted to drop my fork in frustration. “Don’t give me that look, Dana. I’m being serious.”
“You could have been proud of me the first time I tried to go to college ten years ago,” I grumbled.
“I was then, and I am now.” A sympathetic smile crept across her cheeks, reminding me far too much of the ones she’d give us when we cried about her being inebriated. “And I’m sorry, for what it’s worth, that I didn’t come to your high school graduation. That’s one of my biggest regrets.”
I took another bite, weighing whether or not to accept her apology for one of her biggest moments of disappointment for me. But I was in the spirit of forgiveness, and the more Drew giggled and tried to escape from Vee’s arms, the softer I became.
Fuck it. “I forgive you,” I said.
Maybe I’d learn to forgive her for more things down the line. But it was a process, and I only had so much in me in one day.
————
In a moment of pure calm for once in my fucking life, I stirred the soup that simmered on the stove and watched Drew on the monitor beside me as he snoozed away in his crib. I guess both of us had a bit of peace tonight.
A rerun of Friends played quietly in the background so I could still hear and Drew could still sleep.
Things were getting easier the older he got.
But a part of me still felt guilty every time I looked at him.
I could see Cole in him so much more than before, could see it in the way he laughed and the way he smiled, in the mop of blonde hair that seemed to have sprouted overnight.
What would he think if he saw him now?
What would Drew think?
Would he call him Dada instinctually? I hadn’t taught him that word like I had with Mama. Would he still cry for him like he did when we were in Costa Rica, when he wouldn’t stop wailing even in my arms, wouldn’t calm down until Cole held him?
I was grateful for Cole. He’d given me Drew, and that was a gift I could never repay. And he’d given me a glowing letter of recommendation when I’d resigned, a letter that had landed me a job in the head office of a soft drinks corporation with better pay and better benefits.
But I couldn’t decide if I was grateful for the silence he’d given me.
Three months in, he’d stopped calling me every day.
He’d stopped texting. He’d stopped badgering Lottie for information about my new job.
He’d relented, and although I found that life was easier when I could forget he existed, it felt more like I was losing him altogether.
I battled the urge to call him the same way I did every night.
Maybe instead of a call, I could text him. I could throw out a lifeline if he needed one. I hadn’t heard anything from Lottie about his relapse, hadn’t asked, but if he was still in the trenches…
I hope you’re okay.
Sent.
A knock at the door nearly had me jumping out of my skin.
I moved the soup off of the hot burner and turned off the stove before anxiously making my way to the door. I was still afraid that it could be Robert, or Bobby, or whatever the hell his name was. I hadn’t quite recovered from that ordeal.
I pulled open the door, making a mental note to replace the cheap wood tomorrow, and lost every bit of breath in my lungs.
Dark blonde hair, a little shaggy, but not too bad. Clean-shaven jaw, slightly tanned skin, too tall for my door, and fuck, those eyes. The same eyes I see in my son every goddamn day. “How did you…?”
Cole’s brows knitted as he looked me up and down. I’d forgotten I was only in a baggy T-shirt, shit, it was his . “How did I what?”
“I just, uh, I just sent you a text.”
The laugh that came from him made my cheeks heat and my chest ache, but in a good way. Seeing that damn dimple pop out was the cherry on top. “I left my phone in the car,” he said, gesturing behind him. “I had no idea.”
Reality settled in as I realized this wasn’t some kind of fever dream I’d conjured up from thinking about him.
Cole was here, on my front porch, uninvited.
He didn’t smell of booze, he didn’t look like he’d been through the ringer like he did the last time I saw him.
He looked… healthy. I shook my head. “I’m sorry, why are you here? ”
“Right. I… yeah. I brought you something, if that’s okay.
I just wanted to give it to you and then I’ll go,” he said.
I couldn’t think of a single time I’d seen him this nervous.
If it was any other day, I would have told him to leave and then spend the rest of my night sobbing in my bed.
But whatever weird coincidence was happening here was almost too laughable for me to be angry.
“Uh, yeah, okay.”
He held up one finger as he jogged back to my driveway.
Every step he took was precise, not a hint of swaying or stumbling.
I watched as he pulled a box nearly the size of me from the trunk of his car, his slacks and button-up shirt telling me he actually went to work today.
“I couldn’t find big enough paper to wrap it, so you’ll have to cut me a little slack,” he laughed, walking back to my front door.
I stepped out of the way to let him in.
Hesitantly, he stepped across the threshold, eyeing me as he set the box down on the carpet. “I know I missed his birthday. I’m sorry about that. I was out in New York on business and I considered just having it delivered, but I, I guess I wanted to be a little selfish and try my luck seeing you.”
I shut the door behind him.
“Dana?”
I didn’t know what I was doing or what to think. All I could do was watch him, take him in, and note the ways that he’d changed in six months. It was overwhelming. He’d come here to see me, to drop off a gift for Drew that looked way bigger than anything he needed, to test his luck.
Why was I bending to him?
I knew why.
“How are you?” I asked, hearing the strangeness in my voice, the lump at the back of my throat.
The concern on his face morphed into something akin to understanding, but warmer than that.
“I’m… getting there, Dana.” Getting there .
What did that mean? He took a step toward me, and I didn’t move.
He kept himself at a friendly distance, but we both felt the static in the air. “How’s Drew? How are you?”
“Good,” I answered. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beat of my heart. “He’s good. I’m good. He’s doing a lot better since, well, since the last time you saw him.”
He nodded, his gaze flicking between me and the door.
I could tell that a part of him wanted to run, but I could see the war in his eyes, could see him fighting to stick to the situation he’d ended up in.
He must not have thought I’d answer the door, and maybe, if I hadn’t already caved and sent him a text, I wouldn’t have.
“Is, uh, is Bobby still living with you?” I asked, throwing him a curveball in an attempt to keep him locked in place.
It worked.
I watched as his eyes dropped, as his shoulders began to sag.
Oh, god, he is. He never believed me. “No,” he said quietly.
The way he watched me seemed almost as if he felt like he was under a microscope, everything about him seemed so much smaller all of a sudden.
He let out a breath, letting the silence hang for just a moment before he spoke. “He passed away three months ago.”
“Oh my god?—”
“It’s okay,” he swallowed, but the way he steeled his jaw, the way the ligaments in his hands flexed, told me otherwise. “I should have listened to you from the start. Shit, I should have listened to Gray from the start. You both tried to warn me.”
I watched him, studying the way he avoided my eyes as he spoke. “That doesn’t mean it’s okay that your friend died.”
“He wasn’t much of a friend at the end, Dana,” he sighed.
“Is that what…?”