Chapter 15 #2
For a few months, she cared for me like a mother should. Until she realized that nothing she did would bring Dad back. I had her for such a short time. The mom who cared for me. We were a happy family. Until we weren’t.
I became her punching bag along with my sister. Having Sadie helped some days, and others, it hurt me even more. My mother hated that we got along with her enemy.
Loving Sadie as a mother is easy and yet so freaking hard.
The guilt of my mother followed me since I was young.
Now, I’m so worn out that I want to stay away from everything that implies a relationship.
My heart can’t take any more hits. Ever since I can remember, Mom punched it again and again.
Then, Davis, my ex, pulverized it and burnt the little pieces.
“She did this just to remind me that if she couldn’t be happy, I don’t deserve to be happy either.”
The entire room goes silent for a few minutes. Tucker’s phone rings, he answers and leaves my apartment. Zeke sits next to me and gives me a side hug.
“Hypothetically,” he says, and we all stare at him. “What? I can use big words. Fuck isn’t my only favorite word.”
We all laugh.
“In any case, assholes and lady,” Zeke continues. “If one of your followers or magazine fans reach out because she’s grieving, what would you say?”
Go to therapy?
“Grief is circumstantial,” I answer, before they send me to therapy.
Four years when I was a teenager was plenty.
“More like a fingerprint, not one is the same. You can’t compare my readers’ journey with mine.
I... this isn’t running away, more like pausing and trying to figure out what is wrong with me before I can continue. ”
“I told you,” Rocco interrupts. “She’s been going through an identity crisis. This woman just happened to die while it’s happening.”
“More like, identity cycle,” Tucker corrects him. “It has to do with Golden Boy.”
“Only a couple of weeks ago,” I say, staring at the pastel-color socks. They read, always be yourself. Unless you can be a unicorn. Then always be a unicorn. “I was in Paris with this man who just wanted to know all about me. He’s perfect, you know?”
“Nobody is perfect,” Ethan corrects me.
“Well, almost perfect. Of course, he has his flaws. He can be an asshole.”
I’m not even sure why I’m crying while resting my head on Zeke’s shoulder. I continue, “There’s a part of me who wants to open up to him, while the other reminds me what could happen if I let him into my life.”
“Not everyone is like Davis,” Ethan reminds me.
Zeke tenses.
I glare at Ethan because we don’t talk about Davis.
Rocco, who hates altercations, changes the subject. “What’s going to happen after Cabo? Love to be your entourage, but my boss is going to throw a fit and fire me if I stay away for too long.”
Then he adds, “We should stop pretending that we have normal jobs and just play music again.”
“This is the game plan,” I say, ignoring his suggestion because Sinners of Seattle is over.
The band was unique, and we created something amazing, but we’re better without it—I think.
“For the next twelve months, I’m going to dissect my life and adjust each part, so I can enjoy my future without guilt...or something like that.”
Tucker enters the room and says, “The jet is ready. Pack your things, we’re leaving.”
This isn’t running away, I tell myself, when I pick up my phone and dial Dad’s number.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he answers. “We were just talking about you.”
“I hope something good,” I say, trying to test the waters. Maybe Alicia had someone call on her behalf.
“Well, Tess’s birthday is coming up soon, with yours right after, and then it’s Sadie’s. We were thinking about doing something big,” he says. “A family trip or a cruise. We can pair it with spring break, so the kids don’t have to worry about missing school.”
“Maybe leave that for when Tess turns thirty-five, and I turn thirty,” I suggest, buying me a year.
“Nana.” Tucker grabs my empty luggage and taps his watch.
“You’re with the guys?”
“Uh-huh,” I mumble and take a deep breath. “Alicia died.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, confused.
“A couple of days ago, her lawyer called me. She had one of those famous mommy makeovers. There were complications post-surgery,” I explain.
“Why did they call you?”
I laugh and begin to choke with the tears. “Other than she’s fucking evil? She put me as her next of kin.”
“What do you need, baby girl?”
Clearing my tears with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I answer, “Nothing, we’ve taken care of everything.”
“We?” he asks. “Are the guys helping?”
“Uh-huh,” I confirm.
“Give the phone to Tuck or Ethan,” he orders.
“Dad, I’m fine,” I insist.
“Hannah...I’m here for you.”
He’s already worried and maybe getting ready to fly to San Francisco. Oh, Alicia, this is what you wanted. For Dad to suffer through his children.
If I voice it, maybe he’ll settle down and leave me to handle this. “That’s what she would’ve wanted, Dad. For you to see through her last wishes because you’re trying to protect me. I won’t let her manipulate us anymore.”
“Sadie or I can be there tomorrow,” he suggests.
“I’m leaving...Taking a sabbatical,” I continue, trying not to choke on my own anger, sadness, and guilt. Showing him that I’m a grown woman. “Can you give the news to Tess, please?”
“Kid, don’t shut us out, please.”
“Please, I need time,” I beg him.
“Sweetheart,” Sadie says from the other side of the phone. “It’s okay to be sad.”
“I’m not,” I counteract. “I’m managing it.”
“You’re not supposed to manage grief. It’s okay to feel loss. Pain. It is normal.”
“It’s not normal to grieve after her,” I say, but my voice is now loud, a raging sound. “Not everyone is happy and forgiving like you.”
“My Hannah is,” she answers, with her usual sweet voice. “Why do you feel the need to punish yourself?”
“I’m not your kid to lecture me.” I stop her, and I gasp when I realize what I said, but it’s too late, so I finish the call by saying, “Make sure to tell Tess in person. You know how much this could affect her.”
“Anger,” Tucker says. “Let’s make sure we have tequila on the plane. I’m not dealing with Angry Hannah.”
Tequila sounds good.
I realize that we do this way too often. The five of us run off, self-medicate with alcohol or other stuff to cover up and dull the pain and feelings that are destroying us.
My mother died, and I was never able to make her love me. It shouldn’t matter, it should be a moot point. But the kid in me will always wonder what she could do better to receive just a little love from her. I wasn’t even pretty like Tess.