Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
They say denial is the first stage of grief. I don’t think denial is the right word. I can’t deny that she’s gone. Every night, I dream of her. And always wake alone.
Now, I’m standing here staring at a mug that says: Readers Anonymous. It’s heavier than it should be. I don’t know why I’m holding it.
The denial of grief isn’t mental. It’s physical.
My body still expects the normal morning routine—coffee and watching the sunrise.
With Mom. I can almost hear her laughter, even though the house is silent.
Empty. My ears still remember it so well.
The soft cinnamon scent of her perfume lingers in the air.
My body can’t make sense of her absence.
“You’re up.”
I respond viscerally to the voice. Mom? The mug hits the counter with a dull thud. I turn.
Not Mom. Kiara. I didn’t expect her to still be here. She and Aunt Joan have been around almost constantly, one or the other of them bringing me food and checking on me, watching movies in the living room, laughing. I don’t understand how they can laugh?
But this morning, the house was quiet, so I thought I was alone.
Kiara stretches her arms over the couch, her bracelets jingling. “It’s too flipping early for you to finally decide to get out of bed.”
“W-we liked to watch the sunrise.” The stupid, stupid sunrise.
“Oh.” Kiara pops up. “Let’s do it.”
She joins me in the kitchen and reaches for the empty mug on the counter.
“Not that one,” I grab it away from her. But instead of putting it back in the cupboard, I give Kiara my usual mug and pour my coffee into Mom’s. I want every piece of her I can get.
Kiara suggests drinking our coffee on the patio, and I follow her outside. It’s still too dark to see clearly. The trees behind our house look like looming ghosts. The houses behind the trees, black holes.
We sit on the plastic Adirondack chairs Mom got two winters ago when she first moved here, just after she was diagnosed, just after I moved in with her. She found them at Goodwill and made us eat dinner outside every night for a week to enjoy them, even though it was November.
“I’m sorry, Haze,” Kiara whispers.
I don’t respond. What is there to say?
The sky lightens incrementally. Too slow to notice. One gradient of blue slides into the next. Until sunlight hits the grass and the damp blades shine. Mom always called morning dew fairy glitter.
The air has that special quality I can’t describe, except to say it feels like… morning. Cooler than the rest of the day. Somehow fresher. I try to take a deep breath of it, but my throat snags and tightens.
I rub at the hollowness in my chest and twist my mug in circles. “You really don’t have to stay.”
“Are you kidding? This place is way better than my crap apartment. I might never leave.” She’s right. Her apartment isn’t great. But it’s got to be better than sleeping on the couch.
“You might change your mind when I lose mine.”
“Doubt it.”
“I’m not exactly in a good place right now, Ki.”
“Hadn’t noticed.”
I give her the side-eye. She takes a casual sip of coffee and immediately sputters and sucks air. Mom liked her coffee extra hot. I haven’t changed the settings on the coffeemaker. I haven’t done anything yet.
Kiara sets the mug down on the little table between our chairs and takes a second to recover. She takes my hand and levels me with an uncharacteristically serious look. “I’m not leaving.”
“What if I don’t want you to stay?” I do. I want her to stay. But I don’t want to feel the shame and guilt of intruding on her life. I don’t want to be a burden. If she stays, she’ll look at me differently after this. She’ll know my dark secret. That I’m too much. Fragile.
But I don’t want her to leave. Like Jeremy. Like Kane. Like Cosmos.
“You wouldn’t kick me out when I need you, would you?” she says teasingly. “My lease is up next week, and I have nowhere else to go. So, you’re stuck with me. I’m moving in.”
I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to make it seem like this is for her benefit, so I won’t feel guilty about it. If I weren’t so scared, I might let her get away with it. But everyone who’s ever lived with me has abandoned me… or died.
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you want to live with me if I don’t want to live with you?”
She throws a hand to her heart and exaggerates her aggrieved expression, but I can see the outline of genuine hurt in her eyes.
“If I left, who would listen to me ramble about my mystery novel? And how much Sullivan annoys the hell out of me?” She winks, then the mask drops, and she gives my hand a squeeze.
“We’re friends, Hazel. I like you. I’m not gonna leave you in your hour of need. ”
We sit in silence long enough for Kiara’s coffee to cool, for her to finish it. Long enough for my coffee to grow cold, un-drunk in Mom’s mug.