Chapter 6 - Casey #2
"People keep saying that, but I don't think they mean it. I think they mean 'there's no wrong way to grieve as long as you do it quietly and don't make anyone uncomfortable.'"
"Fuck that," I say, and she blinks in surprise.
"Sorry. But seriously. You get to grieve however you need to.
If that means driving around the country for six months, living in your car, seeing all the places you promised to see together?
Then that's what you do. Anyone who has a problem with it can mind their own business. "
She's staring at me like I've said something profound instead of just common sense.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"For what?"
"For getting it. For not telling me I should go home or move on or any of the other things people say when they don't know what else to say."
"I'm not going to tell you how to handle your grief." I squeeze her hand gently. "But I will tell you that you're allowed to rest. To stop moving for a little while. To let people help you."
"Is that what you're doing? Helping me?"
"Trying to."
She's quiet for a moment, her thumb absently tracing circles on the back of my hand. Then she looks up at me, and there's something vulnerable in her expression.
"Can I ask you something now?"
"Fair's fair," I say.
"What happened with Riley's mom?"
I should have seen it coming. She told me about her sister, about the grief she's carrying, and now she wants to know my story.
It's only fair.
But that doesn't make it easier.
I look down at our joined hands, trying to find the words. I don't talk about Sarah. Not really. I give people the bare minimum. She left, we're fine, end of story. But Morgan just trusted me with her pain. The least I can do is return the favor.
"Her name was Sarah," I say finally. "We met in Boston. I was working at my dad's shop, and she was a waitress at this restaurant I went to every Friday. We hit it off, started dating, and... it was good. Easy. Or I thought it was."
Morgan doesn't say anything, just waits.
"She got pregnant with Riley, and I was terrified but also excited, you know?
I thought we'd figure it out together. Get married, raise our kid, build a life.
" I shake my head. "Sarah said all the right things at first. Smiled in the right places, let me paint the nursery, picked out names.
But looking back, I don't think she was ever really there. Not emotionally."
"What happened?"
"Riley was born, and for the first few months, Sarah seemed okay.
Tired, overwhelmed, but I thought that was normal.
New parent stuff. But then Riley turned six months old, and Sarah just..
. shut down. Stopped getting out of bed.
Stopped holding Riley. I'd come home from work and find Riley crying in her crib and Sarah just staring at the wall. "
Morgan's grip on my hand tightens.
"I tried to help. Suggested therapy, offered to take time off work, asked my parents to come stay with us. But Sarah wouldn't talk to me. Wouldn't tell me what was wrong. Then one day, Riley was about ten months old, and I came home to find Sarah packing a bag."
"She was leaving."
"Yeah. She said she couldn't do it anymore. That she'd made a mistake, that she wasn't cut out to be a mother. That Riley was—" My voice catches. "That Riley was a mistake."
"Oh, Casey."
"I begged her to stay. Not for me, but for Riley. Told her we could work through it, get her help, whatever she needed. But she just kept saying she couldn't. That every time she looked at Riley, she felt trapped. Suffocated."
"So, she left."
"Walked out the door and never looked back. She signed away her parental rights six months later. No contact, no child support, nothing. Like Riley never existed."
Morgan is crying now, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."
"The worst part isn't that she left me. It's that she left Riley. Our daughter, this perfect, beautiful little person who did nothing wrong except exist. And Sarah looked at her and saw a mistake."
"Riley's not a mistake," Morgan says fiercely.
"I know. God, I know. Riley is the best thing that ever happened to me. But Sarah calling her that..." I have to stop, swallow hard. "I've never forgiven her for that. Don't think I ever will."
"You shouldn't have to."
We sit there for a moment, both of us holding onto each other's pain like we can somehow make it lighter by sharing it.
"Does Riley know?" Morgan asks quietly.
"That her mom didn't want her? No. I told her that her mom had to leave, but that it doesn't mean anything about Riley. That she's loved and wanted and that we're a happy family, just the two of us."
"You are," Morgan says. "Happy, I mean. Anyone can see that. The way you are with her, the way she lights up around you. You've done an amazing job."
"I'm just trying not to fuck her up too badly."
"You're not fucking her up at all." She says it with such conviction that I almost believe her. "You're giving her everything she needs. Love, stability, security. That's more than a lot of kids get."
"She deserves more than just me, though. She deserves—"
"She deserves a parent who adores her and would do anything for her, and that's exactly what she has." Morgan leans forward slightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Casey. You're a good father. A great one."
Something warm spreads through my chest at her words. Not just because she said them, but because she means them. I can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice.
"Thank you," I say.
"For what?"
"For listening. For not... I don't know. Pitying me or telling me I should try to work things out with Sarah or any of the other bullshit people say."
"I would never tell you that." She squeezes my hand. "Sarah made her choice. A terrible, selfish choice. But you made yours too, and you chose Riley. You chose to stay, to be her dad, to give her the best life you could. That takes strength."
"Or stubbornness."
"Brave stubbornness, then."
I smile despite everything. "Is that a thing?"
"It is now."
We're still holding hands, and it would be so fucking easy to be to lean forward and…
No. Not going there. Morgan is grieving. She's vulnerable and hurt and trying to honor her sister's memory. The last thing she needs is me making things complicated.
Even if the way she's looking at me right now makes me want to do exactly that.
"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" she whispers. "Both carrying around all this pain, trying to figure out how to keep going."
"Yeah," I agree. "We are."
"Does it get easier? The grief?"
I think about the question. About the three years since Sarah left, the way the sharp edges of that betrayal have slowly dulled into something I can live with.
"It gets different," I say finally. "Not easier, exactly. But different. You learn how to carry it. How to build a life around it instead of letting it consume everything."
"I hope you're right."
"I am. And hey, for what it's worth, you're doing better than you think. You got up this morning. You helped me at the shop. You made Riley laugh. Those are all wins."
"Small wins."
"Still wins." I give her hand one more squeeze before reluctantly letting go. "And you're going to have more of them. Bigger ones. You're going to figure out how to honor your sister while also living your own life. I believe that."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough."
"You're a really good person, Casey," she says.
"So are you, Morgan."