“I’m not telling you that you have to go.” She unties the tie on the apron and hangs it on the handle of a drawer. “But I think you should. You could use a break. You never smile anymore. You used to smile so much. I miss my Little Sunshine Girl.”
So do I.
“And you could scatter your father’s ashes while you’re there.” My mother lowers her feet to the floor as she stands up. “Wyoming is right where the Tetons are.” She’s fully aware of reality at the moment, something that happens occasionally, and it’s almost too painful to witness, because we know at any moment she’s going to slip away from us again.
“Mom, don’t you want to be there when I do that?” I ask as she crosses the limited kitchen space. “To say goodbye.”
“I already said my goodbye at his funeral. Besides, you know I can’t be in a car for that long. Not after the accident.” She places her hand on my cheek and a smile reaches her eyes. My heart squeezes in my chest at the brief glimpse of my mom, the one before the accident. “Your father would want his baby girl to do it. You were always his favorite.” She runs her hand over the top of my head, a gesture she used to do when I was younger when she tucked me in at night. “Be his happy girl again instead of looking so sad all the time.” Moments later, my mother vanishes inside herself again. “Time to watch my favorite show.” Her eyes light up and she practically dances to the recliner.
My heart cracks, and I massage my aching chest. “I’m not sad all the time. Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Nelli gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Go call your work then pack your bags,” she says then joins my mother in the living room.
I collect my bag from the sofa then go to my bedroom. My frown etches deeper as I enter the room barely big enough for my bed and dresser. Feathers are all over the carpet and my comforter. I pick up a trash bin near the foot of the bed and start picking them up with a timer ticking backwards in my mind. Jax said he was leaving when I texted him, which means I only have about ten minutes before he’s out of town and on the road. I’ve already killed at least five minutes in the kitchen. I’m running out of time.
But you shouldn’t even be thinking about going, anyway.
My thoughts bounce back and forth like an out-of-control bouncy ball. Right and wrong. Fear and want. Heartbreak and happiness. God, if my father could see me now, he’d be so disappointed. He used to call me his Little Spitfire, a seize the day, blue-eyed girl. He said he envied my sense of adventure.
I remember the day he gave me the nickname. I was eight-years-old and we’d gone on a family vacation to an amusement park. There was this one monstrous rollercoaster that rose to the sky and dropped to the ground that my mother and sister refused to go on. Me, I bound right up to the ride with my father hurrying after me. We rode it together, screaming our lungs off. Only when we got off did I admit to my father that I’d been terrified of riding it.
“Then why’d you get on it so easily?” he wondered as we walked toward the exit.
I shrugged. “Just because it looked scary, doesn’t mean it didn’t look fun. Besides, if I didn’t go, I’d be standing around with mom and Lizzy and that just seemed super boring.”
He smiled down at me and took my hand. “You know what my Little Spitfire, I envy your sense of adventure. I really do.”
My eyelids shut and lift as I blink from the memory.
“This thing with Jax… it doesn’t have to mean more than what it is,” I whisper to myself as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Like my mother, I look pretty much the same as I did before the accident, though dark circles permanently reside under my eyes now. “You can just go as his friend and be there for him. You don’t even have to have sex with him. Things could just be like they used to.”
Before I can talk myself out of it again, I pick up my phone and dial Jax’s number. He answers after three rings.
“Hey… what’s up?” He sounds stressed out.
I summon a deep breath. “Turn back around and come get me. I’m going with you.”
“Are you sure?” I can almost hear the smile in his voice and a grin emerges on my own lips.
“Yep, I’m positive,” I reply, hoping I’m not making a mistake.
Hoping when the trip is over, Jax and I will still be… well, whatever we are.
Chapter Five
Jax
Clara has barely uttered two words to me since I picked her up from her apartment five hours ago. She packed pretty light—one small suitcase, her purse, and a black vase that carries her father’s ashes—and hopped into the car looking terrified out of her Goddamn mind.
I tried to chat with her during the beginning of the drive, asked her if she got time off from work. She replied with a simple, “Yes.” I asked her if there was anywhere specific she wanted to stop. She uttered, “The Tetons.” I asked her if she was going to be okay scattering her father’s ashes without her mom. “I have to,” was her only response. Then her hands clenched into fists, and her eyes welled up, so I quickly dropped the subject and concentrated on the road while Clara fixed her attention on my iPod.
After about six hours on the freeway, I pull off an exit ramp to get gas. It’s late, the stars are twinkling in the clear summer sky, and the florescent lighting of the gas station flows into the cab of the Jeep as I park in front of the pump.
So do I.
“And you could scatter your father’s ashes while you’re there.” My mother lowers her feet to the floor as she stands up. “Wyoming is right where the Tetons are.” She’s fully aware of reality at the moment, something that happens occasionally, and it’s almost too painful to witness, because we know at any moment she’s going to slip away from us again.
“Mom, don’t you want to be there when I do that?” I ask as she crosses the limited kitchen space. “To say goodbye.”
“I already said my goodbye at his funeral. Besides, you know I can’t be in a car for that long. Not after the accident.” She places her hand on my cheek and a smile reaches her eyes. My heart squeezes in my chest at the brief glimpse of my mom, the one before the accident. “Your father would want his baby girl to do it. You were always his favorite.” She runs her hand over the top of my head, a gesture she used to do when I was younger when she tucked me in at night. “Be his happy girl again instead of looking so sad all the time.” Moments later, my mother vanishes inside herself again. “Time to watch my favorite show.” Her eyes light up and she practically dances to the recliner.
My heart cracks, and I massage my aching chest. “I’m not sad all the time. Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Nelli gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Go call your work then pack your bags,” she says then joins my mother in the living room.
I collect my bag from the sofa then go to my bedroom. My frown etches deeper as I enter the room barely big enough for my bed and dresser. Feathers are all over the carpet and my comforter. I pick up a trash bin near the foot of the bed and start picking them up with a timer ticking backwards in my mind. Jax said he was leaving when I texted him, which means I only have about ten minutes before he’s out of town and on the road. I’ve already killed at least five minutes in the kitchen. I’m running out of time.
But you shouldn’t even be thinking about going, anyway.
My thoughts bounce back and forth like an out-of-control bouncy ball. Right and wrong. Fear and want. Heartbreak and happiness. God, if my father could see me now, he’d be so disappointed. He used to call me his Little Spitfire, a seize the day, blue-eyed girl. He said he envied my sense of adventure.
I remember the day he gave me the nickname. I was eight-years-old and we’d gone on a family vacation to an amusement park. There was this one monstrous rollercoaster that rose to the sky and dropped to the ground that my mother and sister refused to go on. Me, I bound right up to the ride with my father hurrying after me. We rode it together, screaming our lungs off. Only when we got off did I admit to my father that I’d been terrified of riding it.
“Then why’d you get on it so easily?” he wondered as we walked toward the exit.
I shrugged. “Just because it looked scary, doesn’t mean it didn’t look fun. Besides, if I didn’t go, I’d be standing around with mom and Lizzy and that just seemed super boring.”
He smiled down at me and took my hand. “You know what my Little Spitfire, I envy your sense of adventure. I really do.”
My eyelids shut and lift as I blink from the memory.
“This thing with Jax… it doesn’t have to mean more than what it is,” I whisper to myself as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Like my mother, I look pretty much the same as I did before the accident, though dark circles permanently reside under my eyes now. “You can just go as his friend and be there for him. You don’t even have to have sex with him. Things could just be like they used to.”
Before I can talk myself out of it again, I pick up my phone and dial Jax’s number. He answers after three rings.
“Hey… what’s up?” He sounds stressed out.
I summon a deep breath. “Turn back around and come get me. I’m going with you.”
“Are you sure?” I can almost hear the smile in his voice and a grin emerges on my own lips.
“Yep, I’m positive,” I reply, hoping I’m not making a mistake.
Hoping when the trip is over, Jax and I will still be… well, whatever we are.
Chapter Five
Jax
Clara has barely uttered two words to me since I picked her up from her apartment five hours ago. She packed pretty light—one small suitcase, her purse, and a black vase that carries her father’s ashes—and hopped into the car looking terrified out of her Goddamn mind.
I tried to chat with her during the beginning of the drive, asked her if she got time off from work. She replied with a simple, “Yes.” I asked her if there was anywhere specific she wanted to stop. She uttered, “The Tetons.” I asked her if she was going to be okay scattering her father’s ashes without her mom. “I have to,” was her only response. Then her hands clenched into fists, and her eyes welled up, so I quickly dropped the subject and concentrated on the road while Clara fixed her attention on my iPod.
After about six hours on the freeway, I pull off an exit ramp to get gas. It’s late, the stars are twinkling in the clear summer sky, and the florescent lighting of the gas station flows into the cab of the Jeep as I park in front of the pump.
