I sucked in a deep breath as I imagined a younger Miles watching all that unfold.
“I started doing CPR and yelling for help. The medics got there pretty quickly and took over for me, but she was gone. She was gone before I had even gotten to her.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to him.
He blinked and looked away from me, biting his lip. Suddenly, his reaction to the events of the evening made sense.
“Sorry,” he said, smiling meekly. “That’s why I freaked out earlier. I thought, for the second time in my life, I’d been involved in killing a girl I cared about.”
“What happened after that?”
He paused, staring into the distance. “She had been pronounced dead at the scene. And by that time, her parents had gotten there. That part was pretty horrible, too. They rode in the ambulance with her. My mom and dad had been visiting my older sister that weekend, so I had to drive my truck home. The ambulance had left, and her backpack was still in my car. And her lip gloss. I’d bought her a drink from the gas station on the drive up, and she wanted to save the other half of it for the drive home because she liked the taste of it flat. Just so many things like that. I was in complete shock. Shaking like a leaf. I definitely shouldn’t have been driving.” He blew out a breath.
Rubbing his eyes, he sat up straighter and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I’m good, I promise, I’ve made my peace with it all, but it’s been years since I’ve talked to anybody about it. And tonight just brought it all back, I guess.”
“It’s probably good to get some of it out again.”
Miles shrugged and cleared his throat. “What about you? What was it like for you to lose your dad?”
I stared at him for a long moment, jarred at the sudden change in the conversation but realizing that he needed a distraction.
“My experience was different. I had a couple of years to prepare, so when the day finally came, it was almost a relief. He had been in such pain—those last few weeks, especially.”
My mind flashed back to those days just before his death. There had been sadness and regret, but the memories were sweet. No matter how sad you are to lose someone, spending the last few days in the company of a loved one about to pass on were some of the most precious moments of my life. I was honored to hold my dad’s hand those last few hours. The part for me that was difficult to think on was the days and weeks and months after his death. When life moved on without him.
With a shaky breath I kept talking. “But I get what you mean about the things left behind. I remember when they moved his body out of the house. I just walked around in a daze and looked at all of his stuff, just sitting there waiting for him. He’d had these brown slippers next to the bed for years. Before he was bad enough that hospice had to be involved, he was in the middle of a book. It was on his nightstand. Never got it finished. His coffee mug was in his spot by the sink. There were so many parts of him scattered all around the house, waiting for him to pick them up.”
There was silence for a beat, and then Miles said, “Death sucks.”
“Then, your mom puts the brown slippers in a box labeled Walt, along with Walt’s shoes, and Walt’s coat, and Walt’s high school yearbooks, and moves them downstairs. Out of the way. Then, she puts the half-read book back on the shelf and washes the coffee mug. All that he was, now stuffed into a box because someone couldn’t stand to look at it anymore.” I was aware of Miles’s eyes on me. I knew I should stop, but found I couldn’t. “And then, a new guy moves in, and you find out your home is really just a house. Not a home. Lumber and nails. Four walls to a room. Out with the old, and in with the new.”
Salty tears were streaming down my face at this point. I tried to wipe them away, but they were coming faster than I could keep up. I knew I would regret this happening in front of Miles, but there was no way I could hold it back any longer. The dam I had so carefully constructed around my heart had burst. I had wanted to say these things to somebody—anybody—for so long, but I never felt I could. My emotions were coming out in a wave, and I stood powerlessly in front of it as it moved to crush me.
From his place at my side, Miles reached over and wrapped his arm around my neck, pulling me gently to him. My body turned and curled against him, my head on his shoulder and my hand splayed out on his chest. He didn’t try to whisper weightless words or shush me, for which I was grateful. For the first time in our arrangement, I didn’t let myself think. I was all heart. And for a person not used to allowing myself to feel, the experience was both terrifying and liberating.
“I didn’t want to feel anything this Christmas,” I whispered into his shoulder.
He pulled back to look at me, brow furrowed. “Why?” he asked softly.
“Because of this.” I wiped my eyes, scoffing. “Because I’m afraid once I start to feel, I won’t be able to stop. I know my feelings aren’t right. They’re not fair. I should be happy for my mom. She grieved for my dad for two years while he was sick. But it’s only been one year since he’s been gone. One. All of a sudden, he’s been replaced. We don’t even talk about him anymore. We were so busy getting ready for him to die that I never got a chance to think about life with him actually being gone. And then, once he was gone, I never got to that place where I was ready for my mom to date again. Where I could accept it. And I would have gotten there, I know it. But then, five months later, here’s big, loud Russ coming to family dinner and sitting in my dad’s chair. Three months after that, they were married. Thanks for the memories, Dad. We’re done now. Moving on.”
My chest heaved as I felt the tension leave my body. Miles continued to hold me, stroking my hair. Eventually, the tears dried up, leaving me at that awkward place of calm embarrassment.
I had just unloaded my most personal thoughts on a man I had claimed to not like five days earlier. An arm of trust had been extended, and I had yet to find out if that would break me in the end.
I tried pulling out of his embrace, but he held me tight, so I whispered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off like that.”
“Have you ever told anybody this stuff?”
There had been so many times I wanted to discuss things with Chloe, but she had so much in her life to distract her—namely, Holly and Ivy. A year earlier, her grief had taken a backseat to teething toddlers and sleepless nights. The addition of Russ to our family actually seemed welcome to her—a relief, even. Having my mom married became one less thing for her to worry about. We’d talked about Russ and the uncomfortable feeling of watching my mom with a new man, but I’d never let myself unleash all my feelings. My own effort at keeping the peace. I’d talked a little bit with Millie at work, but my job was where I wanted to forget and focus on other things.
“No. Can you tell?” My attempt at humor fell flat.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry for you, too.”
His fingers ran up and down my arm for a few long moments before he said, “For what it’s worth, Russ seems like a decent guy.”
I laughed, the sound bitter to my ears. “He is a decent guy. That’s never been the problem.”