Chapter 31
If a funeral doesn’t make a person cry, they must have a heart of stone. I dab at my eyes again, trying to stay composed. It’s not like she was my mom. I barely knew Marilyn Johnson. I’d met her a handful of times. Once at Christmas and twice when she and Paul came to Houston to visit Matt. She was such a nice woman, but as I sit here and listen to her children talk about the type of mother she was, I realize I didn’t even scratch the surface with what I knew about her.
I’m sad for Matt’s family that she died, but at the same time, I’m sad for me. At least they had a mom that loved and cared for them. My mom wasn’t like that.
Matt’s sisters mentioned things in their funeral talks that I can’t even fathom.
The wise advice? My mother once told me not to worry if a guy was taken. She said, “Don’t let a little thing like a wife stop you. We’ve all been with someone who’s already taken.”
The one-on-one time that made them feel so loved? My mom dropped me off at a park when I was eleven years old and told me she had a date. She gave me five dollars and said she”d be back in eight to ten hours.
The magical birthday parties and holidays? My mom was supposed to pick me up from my foster family on Christmas Eve when I was thirteen. The foster family left for a party. I told them not to wait, that my mom would be there any minute, but she never came. I sat in front of the window for five hours until I eventually cried myself to sleep. The next time I talked to her, she told me she’d forgotten and went to Cabo for Christmas with her new boyfriend.
The point is, I can’t relate to Matt or his upbringing. I knew we grew up differently, but it wasn’t until this moment, sitting in the pews of his church, that the reality of it hit me. How could two people with such different experiences ever come together?
The familiar pit in my stomach opens up. I try hard to shove my insecurities and childhood wounds back down inside, but it’s like they won’t fit anymore. They’re too big to be swept away.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing myself to focus on Matt’s eulogy. What kind of a person zones out during their boyfriend’s funeral speech?
“I grew up with the greatest example of a mother there ever was,” he says.
You can say that again.
I shake my head, unsure why my bitterness is flaring to life right at this moment.
Be nice, Remi.
“I think the best way to honor my mother, to carry on her legacy, is by taking her example and implementing it in my life.” Matt’s eyes land on me. “By marrying a good woman and raising a family full of love and happiness.”
I can’t breathe.
Matt’s words are choking me.
I’m not a good woman, and I certainly don’t know how to have a family full of love and happiness.
My hands ball into fists, and I drop my head, trying hard to keep it together.
I make it to the end of the funeral and the dinner afterward.
But the entire time, I know what I have to do.
* * *
“Hey. Is everything okay?”Matt leans against the doorframe of his parents’ guest bedroom, watching as I frantically throw my clothes into my suitcase. The last funeral guests just left his house, and his family is downstairs cleaning up.
“I’ve got to get out of here.” I stop packing and glance around the room, looking for my glasses case. I know I pulled it out last night.
“Where are you going?”
There it is, right on the nightstand where I left it. I pick up the case and throw it in my bag. “I’m going home.”
Matt pushes off the door and walks to me, grabbing my wrists. “Just slow down and tell me what’s wrong.”
“I need to go.” I squirm out of his grasp and walk into the bathroom to get my toiletries.
“Okay, I can go pack my stuff too.” I hear the confusion in his voice, and the fact that he’s not even fighting me on leaving, just agreeing to come with me, breaks my heart even more.
“No!” I pop my head out of the bathroom. “I’m going alone.”
He sinks to the mattress, rubbing his hand down his suit pants. “Is it something with your mom?”
“I haven’t seen my mom in eight years.”
“I know. I am just trying to figure out what the big emergency is.”
I come out of the bathroom, my arms full of makeup and hair products. “There’s not an emergency. I just can’t stay here anymore.”
Matt grips my hand. “Rem?” He pulls me to face him. “What’s going on?”
I finally look at him. “We have to be done, Matt.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “What do you mean?”
My eyes drop. “I’m breaking up with you.”
“Right now?” I’m sure his expression matches the disbelief in his voice, but I don’t have the guts to look at him.
I’ve picked the worst day in Matt’s life to break up with him. I hate myself for it, but I can’t stay when I know it’s wrong. I’m leaving for him. He deserves someone so much better than me. Someone more like Marilyn Johnson.
“I should’ve seen it sooner,” I say, “but we’re not going to work out.”
“What are you talking about?” His hand goes to my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Where’s this coming from?”
I swallow and face the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Matt. It’s over.”
“My mom just died, you know that, right?”
“I know, and I’m sorry to do this to you today, but there’s no point in me staying.”
“Why?”
I turn back to my bag, putting the last few items inside. “I told you. We’re just not going to work.”
His hands push through his hair. “That’s not a reason, Remi.”
“It is.” I zip my suitcase shut and slide it to the ground, lifting the handle. A car honks outside, and I spin on my heels. “That’s my Uber. I need to go or else I’ll miss my flight.”
“When did you book a flight?”
“This afternoon,” I say, tugging my suitcase out of the room.
Matt follows me down the hall. “So, that’s it? We’ve been together for two years, and that’s all the explanation I get? You don’t even have the courtesy to wait until we’re back home in Houston to do this?”
I lift my bag, carrying it down the stairs. I hate how this is going. I didn’t know it would be so hard, but if I stay, Matt will convince me that I’m wrong. Years will be wasted off of both of our lives until he finally realizes the same thing I realized today. I’m not good enough for him and his fairytale future.
“I’ll mail your things to you,” I say as I take the last few steps down the stairs into the entryway.
“You’ll mail my things to me?” His hands go out to his sides. “What’s even happening right now?”
The car outside honks again.
“Who’s that honking?” Paul asks as he comes around the corner from the kitchen.
“It’s for me.”
He looks at my luggage and then at Matt. “Is everything okay?”
Matt rubs his face, not bothering to answer his dad.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” I say. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” I open the front door, but Matt slams it back shut, holding it there with the palm of his hand.
“Don’t go.”
My gaze moves to him. His eyes are bloodshot from the lack of sleep since he found out his mother wasn’t going to make it. The shades of brown are glossed over with tears, causing my own eyes to well up.
“Please don’t go. Let’s talk about this,” he pleads. “Let me fix whatever I’ve done.”
“Let me go, Matt.” I bite the edge of my lip, trying to hold myself together. My Uber honks again, adding to the anxiety of the moment. “I can’t change my mind.”
He stands there, stunned, sweeping his eyes over my face, then he moves his hand, letting me go.