Chapter 35 Lindsey
LINDSEY
I set my alarm for early the next morning, just before sunrise, but I’m already awake when it goes off. Catrick Swayze arches his back and straightens his legs, his claws digging into my comforter.
“Big stretch,” I say, scratching the top of his head as I climb out of bed and slide my feet into my new fuzzy plaid slippers that the kids got me. I pull on a sweatshirt and pad into the kitchen to feed the cat and press the button on the coffee maker.
Ben brought me back to Mom’s late last night, and despite how tired I was, I couldn’t fall asleep. I lay there for hours, my mother’s words swinging in my mind like a pendulum.
I’m a fan of watching the sunrise. The world makes a lot more sense there.
Maybe it’s a little silly of me to do, but at this point, I’m willing to try anything. So, once the coffee’s brewed, I pour myself a cup and carry it out to the back deck, curling up in the wicker love seat.
And I wait. I hold the mug between my hands, shivering.
It’s quiet. Too quiet. But maybe that’s the point.
The golden glow of the sun has started to rise, sending tendrils of light spreading out as though someone cracked an egg across the sky.
It’s been a long time since I watched the sunrise. I’ve caught glimpses of it on my early days when I leave for work to prep for surgery, but I haven’t stopped to take it in. Not since the morning after Dad died.
After we left the hospital, we gathered in our childhood home, unsure what to do or where to go.
I alternated between crying and being so restless I couldn’t sit still.
I remember stepping outside on the front porch to call Daniel, but it went to voicemail.
I didn’t call him from the hospital or in the middle of one of my crying jags in the facility’s parking garage.
I didn’t want to disturb him, and if that isn’t a metaphor for our relationship, I don’t know what is.
I asked Daniel to come to our family dinner a month later, our first without my father, but he declined because he had his weekly basketball game with his old college buddies.
I asked if he could miss it just this once, but he told me those meetups were important to him because they helped him unwind.
Feeling defeated, I asked if I was important to him, immediately regretting the words once they came out of my mouth.
I’m sorry I’d immediately said. That wasn’t a fair question.
Of course, you’re important to me he’d said, taking my hands into his. Do we not have weekly date nights?
Yes.
And I’ve come to your family dinners on occasion, haven’t I?
In a little over a year, he’d come exactly twice. He chatted and joked around, but there was a shift in his demeanor when we were with my family, so subtle that it took a while for me to catch on, but once I did, I couldn’t unsee it.
He opened his mouth to speak but shook his head instead. Never mind.
What? I asked. What were you going to say?
Daniel tilted his head and gave me a close-lipped, pitying smile. Your family can be…a lot to handle. But especially right now. I know your mom is going to be all downtrodden and mopey, and I’m just…not comfortable, you know?
Anger turned the edges of my vision black. Imagine how we feel, Daniel. My dad died. My mother lost her husband.
I know he said. And I’m sorry that happened. Your father was a great guy. But sulking around isn’t going to bring him back.
I wilted like a rose in a vase without water. How could someone be so callous?
He sighed, raking his hand through his thick, dark hair. Sometimes your emotions…
I leaned my head back, extending the space between us. My emotions what, Daniel?
They can be a bit much. And the lying around when you get a “flare up.” He curved his fingers as he spoke the words, his tone suggesting my fibromyalgia was about as real as Santa Claus.
It’s just kind of a downer. All I’m saying is, I think if you put your mind to it, you could get past all of that.
All of that. As though I could simply positively think my way out of my grief over my father’s death and the subsequent fibro flare that followed.
Oh I’d said because I was too stunned to say anything else. What are you supposed to say when someone tells you that your darkest parts are too much?
I broke up with him the next day.
I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. We had a great time together as long as things were lighthearted and fun. But if I was ever frustrated after a tough day or if I broke down after losing a patient at work, I could feel him bristle, even if we weren’t in the same room.
When I called him the morning after my father died, it was only fitting that I got his voicemail. He wasn’t available then. At least not for anything real. Hindsight would serve to show me he never really was.
I was witnessing the dawn of a world where my dad no longer existed, and the person I should have been able to call wasn’t there. So, instead, I watched it alone.
Back then, I was alone because I didn’t have a choice.
Now, it's because I did, and I chose wrong.
I was so scared my rough edges would be too much for Oliver. So scared I’d lose him, whether by choice or by chance, that I decided to walk away first. Because nobody can leave you if you’re already gone.
Mom told me that night Oliver was in the hospital that when it comes to love, there’s always a cost and one way or another, someone will have to pay.
I thought I could avoid it by not allowing myself to get close to Oliver or anyone else.
But no matter how I look at it, I still lose in the end.
Whether I let someone in or not, I still pay the price.
At least if I open my heart to the possibility, I’ll have something to show for it.
Oliver still hasn’t replied to the text I sent him Christmas Eve, and I can’t say I blame him after how quickly I walked away without so much as a real discussion. He didn’t deserve that.
As much as I want to believe there’s something special about my connection with Oliver, I have to accept that maybe Oliver came along to show me what was possible if I was willing to try.
And maybe I’ll still be too much for the next person that comes along, but I’d rather live a life of too much than not enough.
The sun rises to kiss the horizon, blanketing everything it touches in a golden veil. The world and my mind are quiet except for the sound of my own breath.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” my mother asks. I was so deep in my own thoughts I didn’t even hear her come outside.
I nod, taking a sip of my coffee.
“I see you listened to me,” she says, taking a seat beside me, a steaming mug cradled in her hands.
“I do that more than you probably think I do,” I say with a chuckle.
We sit quietly for a moment, gazing up at the sky.
“You asked me something yesterday, and I didn’t answer you truthfully,” she says, finally breaking the silence.
“Oh?”
“You asked if I thought you made a mistake ending things with Oliver.” Her expression is serious as she faces me, placing her hand on my arm. “And the truth is, I do.”
I open my mouth to say something, but she cuts me off.
“Lindsey, I need to say this,” she says.
“I told you that love always comes at a cost, but what I didn’t tell you is everything else.
I didn’t tell you that even knowing how it would end, I’d choose loving your father every single time.
Love does come at a cost, and I paid dearly for it.
That’s the truth. But what I gained is priceless.
I got to experience the kind of love people dream about.
The kind that makes you a better person and helps you get out of your own damn way. ”
“Mom—”
“I know it’s scary, sweetheart. Letting someone in is a lot like feeling your way around in the dark.
You can’t tell if you’re going to run into a wall or step into a bear trap.
But just when you’re certain you’re going to trip and fall into a black hole, something amazing happens.
Love turns the light on.” Her eyes become misty, and she covers my hand with hers.
“It’ll show you colors you never knew existed and give you a chance to paint the rest of your life with them. ”
“I—”
“So, yes. I do think you made a mistake. I don’t know what the future holds or if Oliver’s even the right person for you, but what I do know is that you deserve to experience every beautiful, breathtaking, heartbreaking moment love has to offer.
And you can’t do that if you don’t give it a chance.
I know what happened with Daniel, and I don’t want to see you go through that again. ”
“You don’t,” I cut in. “You don’t know what happened. Not really.”
She studies me, her face softening. “Tell me.”
I blow out a breath. “I told you I broke up with Daniel because it was too much to deal with after Dad died and having to take over the business. What I didn’t tell you is that it was only too much because he couldn’t support me.
Or wouldn’t. He didn’t understand why I couldn’t keep going to his events or why I was in so much pain emotionally and physically that I couldn’t get out of bed. ”
She covers her mouth. “I had no idea. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. God, no wonder you broke up with him.”
“It’s okay. You couldn’t have known because I didn’t want you to. The last thing you needed to be worried about then was whatever drama was going on with me and Daniel,” I say, raking my teeth over my lip. “But that’s not even the worst of it.”
Her eyes are glassy as she looks at me, but she doesn’t speak. This time, she waits for me.
“I tried to get him back,” I admit. “I convinced myself that what he did was okay somehow, and I tried to get him back three months later, only to find out he was with someone else. He was already engaged.”
She gasps. “I can’t believe it. That shithead.”