57. The unknown sure is scary
Fifty-Seven
THE UNKNOWN SURE IS SCARY
Liv
The sound of Pop’s back porch swing creaks and groans, filling the silence. It’s been a little more than a week since Pop gave me the journal. A week of knowing and trying to understand.
“Do you remember when I got off the bus and Mom was here? She was out front with Gram and then she left. Do you remember that day?”
Pop nods, staring off into the distance. I’m not the only one who lost someone when my mom left that day all those years ago. I lost a mother, but he lost a daughter.
“Mom wrote in her journal that Gram wouldn’t let her see me. Is that because…”
Pop sighs, his whole body drooping as if the memory weighs heavily on him. “Your mom showed up a little worse for wear that day. Said she wanted to see you, talk to you, but she was… We’d never seen her so…” He scrubs his hand across his chin. A shuddering breath hissing through his teeth.
“We tried hard to make sure you never saw her like that. Gram offered to take her somewhere, but your mother refused. She was angry with us, said we were keeping you from her. The timing of your bus was unfortunate for a lot of reasons. I think the hardest one was watching you wait out on that doorstep.” Pop swallows hard, voice cracking.
I reach over, pulling his hand into mine. “That day, it felt like she was leaving me behind all over again. All I’ve ever wanted was to be worth loving, worth sticking around for. First Dad left, then Mom. Hell, even my ex left me for another woman. I just want to be… good enough.”
Pop squeezes my hand. “You’ve always been good enough. More than.”
He reaches up and lays a hand on my shoulder. “Listen to me.” He twists to face me. His pale blue eyes swim with unshed emotion. My face aches from the constant pulsing behind my eyes, threatening to spill with fresh tears.
“You were never in question, Livie. The number of times your mother tried to free herself from her demons so she could be with you proves that. Her choices have nothing to do with you or your worth. If anything, you were the light that she fought for.”
I angrily swipe at the tears now streaming down my face. I’m so tired of crying. Pop pats my knee, and we swing in silence until the tears have dried on my face and my nose is sufficiently stuffy. The summer breeze is warm on my skin as it rustles the leaves.
“I met a guy, Pop, when Viv and I were on vacation.”
“Hey now. That’s good news, huh?” He brightens next to me, perhaps glad for a new topic.
I slouch, releasing a breath through my teeth.
“Uh oh. Okay, lay it on me.”
So I do. I pour out my heart and share it all. Everything he made me feel, everything he challenged in me, the way Luke disarmed me so effortlessly. I tell Pop about how natural it felt to be around him, and how I thought I’d have stopped thinking about him by now.
“Hm.”
“That’s the best you’ve got, huh?”
Pop chuckles beside me. “I just think it sounds like, you know, maybe”—he tilts his head, scrunching his lips to the side—“maybe he’s your missing piece. You know… your person.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I haven’t known him long enough to have all those feelings. I just—I really like him, like… a lot. But he’s so far away from here, and you, Viv, and work.”
Pop smiles to himself, head shaking. “I saw your gram and knew she was my person the first time she opened her mouth to insult me. I was done for—putty in her hands. Time doesn’t matter. Your heart will always know before your head catches on.”
I think my heart knows, even if I’m trying not to listen.
“Well, my life is here, so there’s that. He can’t come here. His life is there in Maple Cove. I can’t ask him to leave his family and his business behind just for me.” I say the words I’ve been wrestling with in my mind, trying hard to convince myself of their truth.
“So go there,” Pop says. It sounds so simple, so easy when he says it.
“My life is here, Pop.”
“So bring it there.” He looks at me, confusion etched across his face as if he doesn’t see the problem. “You can do your job from anywhere, can’t you?”
We stare at each other for a beat, my heart fluttering with the hope he’s placed before me, until my brain intervenes.
“What? No, I can’t leave you. You’d be all alone, and… I can’t—” I shake my head.
“I’m not alone. I have Viv’s family next door, Raphael visits a lot—too much, maybe.” He mumbles that last bit. “You’ll visit and call. If it’s me you’re worried about…” He pauses, his gaze softening. “Please don’t put your life on hold for me.”
“I’m not. Besides, what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if you’re wrong about him? What if—what if he leaves too?”
And there it is, forever hibernating in the deepest, darkest part of me. My greatest insecurity, finally coming to light.
Pop lifts my chin with his hand. “Okay, I’ll play along. Let’s say you go and it doesn’t work out. What then?”
“I… come home.” Brokenhearted, again. I don’t think I can handle it.
“Okay. And what if you never go? What then?”
“Then… I’ll never know.”
“Never know what exactly?” he presses.
Burrowing deep within myself, I search for the answer to his question, immediately hating the understanding it brings.
“I’ll never know if we could have become something great together.” I’d be giving up on a future before it’s even begun.
There’s beauty in new beginnings.
Could this be the beginning I need?
He pulls me in and wraps his arms around me. “I love you, kiddo. I just want you to be happy. No regrets. Regret tore your mom apart. I don’t want that for you.”
“I could just text him,” I muse, resting my chin in my hand. “I don’t have to go all the way to Maple Cove to find out how he feels.”
Pop scoffs, snapping his head in my direction with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
I chuckle, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “I’m not. I just wanted to see your reaction.”
He lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “Oh, thank goodness. Don't scare an old man like that.”
I pull out the orange journal, flipping to the back where the pages are untouched. Clicking my black pen open and closed, I stare down at the blank page. I guess there’s only one place to start, and that’s with the truth.
Mom,
For a long time, I thought you didn’t want me because I wasn’t good enough.
Your choices pushed me to become someone who works hard, someone who can depend on herself to be strong.
I will always wonder who I’d have been if you’d never left, but I wanted you to know some good came from all of this, too.
I understand now that it was never about me. I’m not sure I’m done being angry, though. I’m trying to understand, but a lifetime of hurt can’t wash away in a few letters. In fact, I’ll probably need therapy. So this will take me some time, but I’m trying.
You said in your letter that you wished you were stronger. I wish you were stronger, too, because I really needed you. Gram and Pop did a great job, but they weren’t you.
I wipe my cheeks with the backs of my hands. The sun breaks through the clouds, bright rays splashing against my skin, warming my little corner of the apartment.
Anyway… I’m facing a choice, Mom, and I’m scared I’ll make the wrong one. I’m even more scared of running from it, though, because what if I miss out on something amazing? I suppose I can understand why you found it difficult to trust your heart. The unknown sure is scary.
Pen pausing, I stare at the line, considering my next words. I catch my bottom lip between my teeth and release a slow breath.
But I think living with regret may be scarier.
Placing the ribbon between the pages, I close the journal, content to let my thoughts stay tucked away with my mom’s. Between those pages are all the notes she wrote to me—notes she never thought I’d see, but wrote anyway. Now mine is there, too.