Chapter 46 #2
An hour into sorting through the piles of shit in my grandma’s basement, and I’m no longer in the mood.
To be fair, I wasn’t to begin with, but considering what happened this morning, it was either this or slashing Sasha’s tires. I’ve wanted to do that for a loooooooong time now. I even dreamed of it once. I stopped searching up what specific types of dreams meant after that.
I kick another one of the plastic tubs of old clothes and yell, letting it punch through the crumbling insulation.
My yell turns into a scream and then a broken sob as I bend over my knees and heave.
I swipe the tears off my cheeks as they fall and glare at the towering stack of bins I still need to go through.
The ache between my legs when I haul another bin toward me makes my anger swell. I’m sore, tired, and really fucking annoyed. Why is it that Sasha’s always there? She does nothing but stab her fingers into all of my wounds, laughing like a hyena the whole time.
I’ll never escape her, and this morning only reminded me of that.
My phone buzzes again from wherever I left it earlier, but I already know who it is without needing to look. Darren’s called every hour since I left his house, twice at the start. I’m not ready to talk to him yet despite his constant effort.
The bin I chose is overfilled with more clothes, but they don’t belong to my grandmother this time. Rounding it, I crouch in front of the single word scrawled across the blue plastic in her writing.
Laney’s .
The first thing in the bin is an old sweater that I think used to be purple but is now a washed-out white.
I set it on the floor and stare at the next thing.
The purple jersey with the number 17 stitched on the arm steals the air from my lungs.
I drop to my ass on the dirty concrete and stare at the fabric, my mind running backward as I pull it out of the bin.
“Throw it out! I don’t want to see it ever again,” I shout .
Grandma shakes her head stubbornly and holds the jersey out of reach. “I’m not throwing this away. You’ll regret getting rid of these things, Laney. I promise you that.”
“I can’t look at them anymore!”
My lungs pinch so tightly I can hardly breathe.
The wall I’ve built around me and my past with Darren is wobbling with every second I stare at his jersey.
The burn in my chest is too much right now.
Sasha’s pregnant belly is branded into the backs of my eyelids, a constant reminder of what I came home to. This is just too much.
“I’m keeping them because one day, you’ll wish I had.”
“The only thing I wish is that I never met him in the first place.” I hold my head, shaking it. “Get rid of it.”
She moves, and I look at her again, expecting to see it gone. What she holds up is worse than the jersey.
My tears are instant. The sob that follows leaves me on the floor. Arms wrap around me, holding me up. I try to push her away, but she holds me tighter, pulling me into her chest.
“It’s okay, Laney. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I crack and plead, “Put it away. Please. Take it away from me.”
Her arm moves before returning to hold me. “It’s gone. I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.”
Blinking, I swipe away the tears I didn’t feel drip. The jersey smells stale, old. Huntsly is written on the back, the lettering in perfect condition. It feels the same, still thin and cheap with the high school’s sports budget.
I rest it in my lap and return my gaze to the bin. The jacket staring back at me steals my breath. My pulse slows, turning thready as I slowly touch the number on the sleeve, then the bronze buttons. I sniff and try to swallow.
She was supposed to get rid of this stuff. All of it. I even watched her throw it in the garbage when I had caught on to the fact that she still hadn’t gotten rid of it three years after I came home. Yet here it is.
It’s heavy . . . the leather clean and smooth when I lift it and hold it in front of me.
I turn it over and stare at his name again.
I should have given these things back years ago.
They were never mine to keep in the first place.
I was holding on to them while we were apart, as if a jersey and bulky jacket would have ever been able to make me feel like he was with me.
All it did was remind me that he wasn’t.
“What are you doing, Delaney?” I ask myself, sighing as I stand and slip the jacket on.
It weighs me down more than I already am, but God, it feels good.
It’s a piece of our past that I couldn’t seem to rid myself of.
My grandma was a stubborn woman, but she loved me.
She loved me enough to risk this coming back to haunt our relationship because she was that confident that I’d be grateful one day, and she was right to be.
I clutch the sides of the jacket and pinch my brows together when something pokes my arm. Wiggling, I try to dislodge whatever it is, but it doesn’t budge. With a frown, I take the jacket off and give it a shake.
The letter that falls out of the left sleeve makes me laugh. It’s a wet laugh, the kind that aches worse than any other.
I unfold the paper and cross my legs before reading.
Dear my Laney,
How mad are you at me right now? Is there steam shooting from your ears, or hot tears splashing and smudging my perfect handwriting?
Whichever it is, I’m just grateful that you’re reading this at all.
Since you are, that means you’ve finally found the box of things you thought I got rid of but never could.
Honestly, I can’t believe you thought that I of all people would have allowed you to discard the things that mean the most to you in the world, but that’s not my point .
The point of this letter is this—stop running. From this town, your great love, and the past you’ve tried to forget about because of them both. Before you sit there and scoff at me, I need you to keep reading.
Delaney Marie Brooks has never needed a man.
She is strong, proud, and cutthroat when it comes to those she loves.
But, my girl, you didn’t simply meet a man.
You met the man. Your one . And I’ve watched you both find yourself, and lose yourself with and because of him.
I’ve watched you feel every emotion that one can hope to feel in their life.
Love, heartache, loneliness, comfort. I’ve also watched you ache and bleed.
You’ve yearned, and dreamt, and wished for something to change or just one chance to go back in time.
Darren hurt you, sweetheart. But every great love endured heartache. You deserve to live out yours because you’ve been lucky enough to find it.
If you haven’t ripped this into pieces yet and swore my name, please stay for a few more lines.
Don’t let your story be over. Not yet. You need at least a few more chapters.
I guess, if I had one dying wish, that would be it. For you to offer him a second chance, now that you’re both grown up and know who exactly you are, and who you need each other to be.
Maybe it will end in an epilogue, or maybe it will be cut short. I’m just begging you, Laney, at least go see him. Speak to him just once and see for yourself that what I’m saying is true.
I miss you, angel. And I love you no matter what, even if I’m not there to pull you into my arms right now.
Yours,
Grandma