25. Eventually, she left me, too
Twenty-Five
EVENTUALLY, SHE LEFT ME, TOO
Luke
“You know, Liv couldn’t reach a mug yesterday.
So, I think it’s about time you fixed those shelves.
” I side-eye Josh. He’s up extra early to take the tractor to be serviced, so I have the pleasure of his company as I head to the main house for the coffee.
I should just smuggle a bag of coffee grounds to keep at my house, but Ma would murder me.
I can’t even take a roll of toilet paper when I run low at my house.
“You wanna use the house’s stuff? Then come to the house and use it,” Ma says.
“The shelves are perfect, man. Let. it. Go.” Josh grumbles.
“If they were perfect, most guests would be able to reach the mugs, asshole.”
“I can reach them just fine. If anyone needs a damn mug, they can come find me.”
We break through the tree line, and my eyes catch on a figure sitting on the dock.
Liv.
Josh sees her too, checks his watch, and jerks his head in her direction.
“Maybe you should go check on her?”
“Yeah, I’ll catch up with you later.”
The boards of the dock creak and groan under my sneakers. I assume she’s out here to be alone, but something about the way she’s sitting, staring off into the distance like I’ve done so many times, makes me think she might not want to be alone at all. I guess there's only one way to find out.
She twists her body to look at me as my steps grow closer. I stop, waiting for her to tell me to leave, but the demand never comes. Instead, she returns to staring off into the distance.
One bare foot dangles just above the water, the other tucked into her body with both arms hugging the other knee, chin resting on top. She looks so small curled into herself like that. I’m not sure what I’m walking into, but I’m ready to find out.
“Hey, Trip.” I hedge. Liv doesn’t respond, so I untie my sneakers, slip them off, and stuff my socks inside. Then I sit beside her, dipping my feet into the lake.
There’s a fog hovering above the surface of the lake this morning.
The sun, shielded by overcast clouds, shrouds the world around us in a pink hue.
On mornings when I have a lot on my mind, I come out here before anyone else wakes up and sit in the silence.
The lake has a way of taking hold of the things that weigh you down and lifting them off your shoulders so you feel like you can breathe again.
“I spent a lot of my life looking out at the lake just like this, the way you are now.”
She turns her head toward me, not saying anything, but the motion makes me think she wants me to continue, so I do.
“Whether I had a fight with a friend, broke up with a girl, or lost someone close to me, for as long as I can remember, I’d come sit out here.
I can’t explain what it is, but… this lake cleanses the soul somehow.
Sounds cheesy now that I’m saying it out loud.
” I chuckle, fully expecting her to make a comment about how it is, but nothing comes.
“Hm.” She grunts and then turns her face back toward the water.
The quiet stretches on. A kingfisher in the distance dives into the water, creating endless ripples that eventually make their way to where we sit.
“Can I ask you something?” Liv’s voice is soft and unsure.
“Anything.”
“Why don’t you ever talk about your father? You talked about your whole family the other night on the patio, but never about your dad. Why?”
I’m surprised by her question, and yet, I’m not. She strikes me as someone who pays attention to the details. I know that’s a detail I’ve neglected to mention.
“Because I miss him. It’s still hard to come to terms with the fact that he’s gone.” She looks at me then, eyes glassy, and gives a slight nod before setting her gaze back on the water. She doesn’t ask what happened to him, as if at this moment that’s not the information that matters most.
“You were close, then.” It’s not a question, but I answer anyway.
“We were.”
“I hardly knew my mom, and what I remember…” Liv lifts her chin and tilts her head, as if lost in thought. I clasp my hands in my lap, watching the fish glide under the surface of the water around my feet, and wait for her to share more.
“She and my dad were high school sweethearts. They got married young and had me pretty young too. It was unplanned. There’s very little about my dad that I remember, except hearing him tell my mom that he never wanted me to begin with.
He stuck around for a while, and when I was just about five, he left.
Never saw him again.” She pauses, looking out across the lake with a contemplative gaze.
“My mom spent a lot of time in bed after he left. She would get angry really fast and cry a lot. My grandparents came by more and spent time with me while my mom locked herself away.” Liv drops her other leg over the side of the dock, twisting her fingers together.
“I remember one time waiting outside of school for her to come pick me up. She was late. Really late. I thought she had forgotten me. The school had to call my grandparents, and they came to get me. We moved in with Gram and Pop shortly after. I was six.” Liv inhales like she’s pulling courage from the air, taking a large breath in through her nose and releasing it.
I don’t know what to say, so I stay silent. She doesn’t sound like she wants my thoughts, anyway. If I had to guess, it seems like she needs the space to voice hers.
“Once I climbed up onto the couch to cuddle with my mom. She used to cuddle with me all the time. She wanted to be alone, though. I said I wanted to sit with her, and she told me to stop being so difficult, and to go find something to do.”
I bristle at the use of the word difficult. She wasn’t being difficult. She was a kid who wanted her mom.
“I remember thinking I had done something wrong, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I just wanted to see her smile again.” She’s shaking her head like the memory is almost too unbelievable, even for her.
Unable to help it, I reach out and take her hand in mine. Liv looks at our hands—hers is so small in mine—but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts her body to be more comfortable so our fingers can remain entwined.
“She used to sing to me at night when I was really little. Those are some of my first memories. She’d sing and cuddle in bed with me. Then Dad left, and everything changed.”
Having grown up with a mother and father who were very much involved and present in my life, I can’t even imagine how hard it was for Liv to grow up with a father who left and a mother who shut down and cut her out because of it.
“Eventually, she left me, too,” Liv states. I rub my thumb across her hand, shoving down the frustration building for what six-year-old Liv had to endure.
“At first, she started going out a lot, not coming home. I remember my Gram arguing with her one night about something. The next day, Mom was gone. That was that. She didn’t say goodbye.
No hug, no kiss, or sorry explanation. She just…
left.” Her hand swipes angrily at a stray tear that’s streaking down her cheek.
“I wasn’t enough for her. Not worth sticking around for. ” Her voice is sharp.
“Did you ever ask where she went?”
“I asked, yeah. I don’t really remember the answer making much sense. Looking back now, it was a kind of non-answer, you know? It made Gram upset when I asked. I knew that much. So I didn’t ask again.” Liv sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping before she straightens them and attempts to sit taller.
“My Gram and Pop raised me, loved me, and made me feel special. I’m forever grateful to them.
Still, I spent most of my life hoping to get my mother’s attention, trying to be someone worthy of being loved.
To make a name for myself. I won track meets, was valedictorian in high school, graduated with honors in college, and started a business for goodness' sake.” Liv releases a sardonic chuckle.
“You know, I stupidly checked the mail every fucking day hoping I’d get a letter from my mom saying that she saw me, my name, anything, and was proud of me.
I hoped she’d find me and maybe finally want to know me. ”
Her hazel eyes, glistening with unshed tears, meet mine. “A letter never came, and now I know it never will.”
She hands me a paper folded in half that I didn’t notice she had. I take it, unfolding it and scanning the page.
It’s a death certificate.
By the looks of it, her mom died of an overdose almost five years ago. Goddamn.
“I’m sorry.” I hand the paper back, and she tucks it away. More tears streak down her face, and this time, I can’t stop myself from reaching for her cheek and turning her face toward mine. Her head dips down as if embarrassed to be crying, so I nudge it back up with my finger under her chin.
“Hey,” I whisper, reaching up and slipping her glasses off her face. I fold them neatly and place them on the dock before grasping her cheeks gently between my hands to wipe her tears away with the pads of my thumbs. Her eyes fall closed as she releases a breath through her nose.
“I just wish I could have been enough.” The look on her face nearly guts me.
“I have no explanation for your mother’s choices, Liv.
” And I don’t. I couldn’t begin to try and understand, so I’m not going to.
Turning my body so I’m facing her, with one leg hanging over the side of the dock, the other between us, I scoot closer.
“But I need you to listen to me. Are you listening?”
She looks up through wet eyelashes, nodding almost imperceptibly.
“It sucks that you were made to feel like you weren’t enough back then.
That you thought you needed to prove to the world and yourself that you are enough.
But I promise you, without even trying, you are.
Hell, I’ve only known you a few days, and even I can tell that you are nothing short of incredible.
I’m confident that your Pop, Gram, Viv, the people you surround yourself with, can see it too. Even when you can’t.”
Her tears fall freely now. Liv releases a sob, covering her face.
I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her shaking shoulders.
Liv’s arms wrap around my waist, gripping my shirt like a lifeline.
With her face buried against my chest, silent tears soak my shirt.
I run my fingers in long strokes up and down her back and rest my chin on her head.
Breathing in her jasmine and vanilla scent, it’s not lost on me how perfectly she fits against my chest.
Liv pulls away from me, swiping at her cheeks.
“I hired a private investigator to find my mom, and he delivered. I didn’t know what my plan was going to be when he found her. I mean, Pop doesn’t talk about her—I think it’s difficult for him to be estranged from his only daughter.” Liv chuckles, a self depreciating sound.
“Honestly, I feel so stupid for crying over her because I hardly knew her—aside from what I told you. And what I remember isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy.”
“It’s understandable that you’re sad. You don’t need to explain or justify it. Not to me, not to anyone.” I push the hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.
“I think I’m sadder at the idea that I will never get to know her. Like I’m mourning the loss of something that can never be, you know?”
I do. I know that feeling well.
She dabs at her cheeks then picks up her glasses and puts them back on. “Thanks”—she waves her hand between us—“for this. I feel better.”
“Anytime, Trip.”
“You’re surprisingly sweet for a guy.” She stands and waits for me to stand too.
“Wow! Your complimenting skills… Damn girl, they are top-notch. Top-notch.” I chef-kiss my fingers, and she laughs—really laughs. The sound tickles the edges of my heart, sending a rush of satisfaction coursing through me.
She drags her hand down her face. “There’s no saving face after that.”
It’s adorable how self-conscious she can be. Her cheeks are growing redder by the second, and she just keeps shaking her head, hiding her face in her hands.
“It’s all good. I think I know what you meant, and if I’m wrong, I’m gonna pretend I did anyway.” I pull her hands from her face, and she looks up at me with a sheepish smile.
And here we are.
Alone on the dock.
Just the two of us. Face to face.
“How about some coffee?”
“Ohhhh. Yes, please,” she mutters, turning and walking down the dock toward the house.
The words come out breathy and a little pleading, and it sends my nervous system reeling. I run my hands through my hair and take a deep calming breath, following her toward the house.