chapter fifteen #2
Nodding, I peel away from him, tears threatening to fill my eyes.
I should go to the stupid spa and use my stupid voucher on a stupid facial, or maybe on something to help my tear ducts dry the hell up.
Acupuncture, perhaps. God knows I need something, anything.
Ever since Mom passed away, I’ve been drowning, my emotional control a delicate thread.
Gossamer in the wind. The ability I once had to keep myself grounded and focused has vanished, and that’s an awful feeling, especially for someone who’s always had her sensibility in check.
It is despair in full throttle. You know the crash is imminent, yet you have no way to apply the brakes to prevent the collision.
So, you crash. You crash and surrender to the helplessness and pain.
I consider going to the spa for some form of remedy, but all I really want to do is speak to Mom, to tell her what happened, how it made me feel, and to ask for her advice. She was always good at that.
Rushing to the cabin, I enter and beeline for the safe, carefully cradling the urn as I take it out and hug it to my chest.
“Hey, Momma. How are you?”
I feel absurd every time I talk to her, knowing she can’t answer, but I do it all the same. Albeit nonsensical, absurdity far outweighs not talking to her at all. It’s all I have left. The only piece of her I can cling to.
“I kissed Riley,” I explain. “Or he kissed me. Or—” I slump onto my bed and scrub my face with my hand.
“I don’t know who kissed who, but we kissed, and it was incredible.
” Sighing, I roll onto my side and prop my head up with my hand.
“But I think he hated it. He’s getting a divorce, and us kissing probably messed with his head.
Either that or I kiss like an overexuberant donkey.
” Mortification once again swirls through my veins, and I slap my hand to my head.
“Ugh! Mom, I feel like such an idiot. What am I going to do?”
“Who are you talking to?” Riley asks from behind, startling the heck out of me.
Rolling like a tumbleweed, I hide the urn behind my back and scramble to my feet. “What are you doing here? I-I… didn’t hear you come in?”
He takes a step closer. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one.” Blood rushes to my face, and I panic. “Haven’t you heard of knocking? Get out!”
He narrows his eyes and tries to look past me, to what I desperately don’t want him to see. “What’s behind your back?”
“Nothing!”
His voice softens. “Riles…?”
“It’s…” I edge away from him, the overwhelming pain in my chest tearing open as I choke back a sob. “It’s nothing.”
“You said Mom.”
The room tilts, and I’m not sure if it’s from a swell or my buckling legs. I stumble, heat surging to my head, as everything around me spins.
Riley reaches out, his strong hands steadying me before I fall, his eyes kind but concerned. “You can talk to me, Riles.”
“I—” A sob rips past my throat, tears blurring my vision as I present the urn from behind my back. “I was talking to my mom. She died six weeks ago.”
He stares at the pot, then at me, and just when I think he’s going to call me crazy and flee the room, he pulls me into his arms, rubbing my back soothingly as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
Shocked, I pull back and wipe my face with my sleeve. “Why would you? I’ve been hiding her in the safe.”
His eyes close momentarily. “That’s why you didn’t want me to have the code?”
“Yes. I can’t trust you with her. You lost my bathing suit. You might lose her too.”
Pain etches his face as he gently presses the pads of his thumbs under my eyes. “I won’t use the safe. I promise. I won’t go near her.”
Nodding, I sniffle and take a seat on the edge of my bed.
“Are you okay?” he asks, sitting beside me.
“No. Not really.”
He hugs me to his side, and I don’t fight his comforting embrace. Comfort isn’t something I’ve felt since Mom’s death.
“What happened?” he asks, but then adds, “You don’t have to tell me, of course. But speaking from experience, believe it or not, talking helps.”
I stare at the urn on my lap. “Pancreatic cancer. She was gone within months.”
“Jesus,” he says on an exhale.
“It all happened so fast. One minute, she was happy and healthy, and the next, she was tremendously sick and then… gone.” I burst into tears again. “Sorry. I’m hanging on by a thread.”
“Don’t apologize for your grief, Riles. You’ll always be coming to terms with it. Then, now, next month… ten years from now. Grief doesn’t have a time limit; it lasts forever.”
I blink up at him and nod.
“Losing someone you love is the hardest thing you’ll ever endure. That type of pain is brutal.”
I wipe my face. “Tell me about it. She wasn’t just my mother; she was also my best friend.”
“Dad was my best friend too, so I know how you feel.”
I angle toward him. “I don’t think you do. I mean, I know you know how losing a parent feels, and I’m in no way measuring your grief against mine, but… you have your mother, Veronica, and Poppy. I have no one. Just an empty apartment and a job I now resent.”
He gently squeezes my arm. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, Riles.”
“I’m just so… lonely. And mad.” Fury bubbles to the surface of my skin, blistering before bursting.
“I’ve spent years dedicated to me and my future, working my ass off to please Georgia and get ahead.
Years I should’ve spent appreciating Mom.
And what’s worse, Mom knew what I was doing, and she supported me…
for the most part. She never complained when I didn’t make it home for dinner, never got angry when I canceled things we planned to do together.
She just smiled and said, ‘I’m so proud of you,’ even though she wanted me to experience and enjoy life beyond my path to success.
” I grip the urn, my fingers trembling. “She bought me this cruise ticket… on her damn deathbed. She begged me to leave New York and see the world, knowing I’d never do it of my own accord.
And she was right. I wouldn’t have, because I’m a fucking workaholic. ”
“Don’t,” he says, voice harsh.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t punish yourself.”
“Why not? I deserve it.”
“Would your mom agree?”
I stare at him, knowing she wouldn’t, my throat hoarse when I say, “No.”
“Then don’t do it. For her. This is your chance to give her what you think you didn’t when she was alive.”
“I don’t think, Riley; I know. She wanted so much more for me, and I dismissed it because I thought I knew better. So, yeah… I know I didn’t give her what she wanted when she was alive. I know it to my core.”
“Well, you can give it to her now. You’re seeing the world like she wanted you to, and you should do it without punishing yourself. She wouldn’t want that—you said so yourself. So stop being selfish.”
I recoil. “Selfish?”
“Yeah.”
“How is regret selfish?”
“Because your mother didn’t want you to feel regret. That’s why. So stop. Forgive yourself for what you think you didn’t give her, and respect her wishes. Be kinder to yourself, Riles.”
“Respect her wishes?” I laugh sardonically. “Want to know what one of her wishes was? To sprinkle her ashes in the Atlantic.” I glance out the window at the murky ocean beneath the murky sky. “I don’t want to. I want to keep her, with me. Always.” I scoff. “You’re right. I am selfish.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s true though. I am.”
“You’re not.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I do. You’re just grieving and afraid to let go.”
Drawing in a deep breath, my chest quakes as I exhale. “I miss her, and this urn is all I have left.”
“So sprinkle her ashes and keep the urn, then you both get what you want.” He rubs his beard. “Are you even allowed to scatter ashes from a cruise ship?”
“Yeah, you are. But… I’m running out of time… and ocean. And I can’t actually scatter her ashes. I have to toss the entire urn.”
He pulls a “that’s weird” face.
I nod sarcastically. “Uh-huh. I have to pitch her like a baseball. Actually,” I add, laughing softly, “she wanted me to shoot her like a free throw.”
Riley chuckles. “Your Mom sounds fun.”
“She was. A little loco here and there, but lots of fun. She did the research of disposing of her remains and presented it to me like a sales pitch.”
He chuckles again. “Really?”
“Yep.” I sniffle. “Pictures, detailed instructions, diagrams, and all.”
“Jesus!”
“When I’m ready, I have to go to Guest Services, book a date and time for her ‘free throw,’ and weather permitting, a member of the crew will assist me.” Staring out at the icy ocean again, my blood runs just as cold. “I’m not ready. I’m not ready to say goodbye for the final time.”
“But that’s the thing, Riles,” he says, his finger gently grazing my chin as he turns my head toward his. “You’ll never be ready to say goodbye. No one ever is.”
I swallow hard. “So how do I do it?”
“You just…” He holds my stare, strength from his supportive eyes pouring into mine. “You just do.”