Page 33 of Getting it Right (Addy's Rollercoaster)

“I’m sorry, Addy. I’m taking a management position in Michigan.”

“Don’t go.” My heart nearly lurched out of my chest, it hammered so hard against my ribs. “I’ll try harder to do those things you mentioned.”

“I hope you do, but the motivation needs to come from inside you, or it won’t stick.”

“I can pay you more,” I said desperately, panicked at the thought of Teresa being gone.

Over the past two years, the bar had done well. We’d expanded, doubling our square footage. We now had a stage as big as Winston’s, a dance floor, dressing rooms, and a real storage room. I had most of Footit’s profit locked up in remodeling expenses, but not all. I could find pennies to pinch somewhere if it would keep her here.

Teresa gave me a sad smile. “It’s not the money. Not really. It’s the late hours. I want to be the one to take Loretta to school, and I want her to go to a school where I feel like she’ll be safe. That’s not possible in Southside.”

“I understand,” I said reluctantly, and I did. If I had Ella, I would move out of Southside, do whatever I had to do.

“I knew you would.” Teresa threw her arms out wide, and I met her in a bear hug.

“I’m going to miss you,” I said from within her embrace.

“I’ll miss you too, honey, but I’m just moving out of state. It’s not like I’m going to another planet.” She eased back to put her hands on my shoulders and search my gaze. “This isn’t me abandoning or rejecting you, or me ending our friendship. You can call me anytime.”

I nodded, forcing myself to accept her leaving. But her words to me were like my last words to Barry. And I hadn’t heard a single word from him since.

Addy

After Teresa’s announcement, I went to my apartment, but I didn’t take a shower like I normally would. I fell right into bed and slept. I slept for hours.

When I woke up, I withdrew my notebook from my nightstand, the current one containing my letters to Ella. Dropping it on the bed, I took off my boots. I grabbed a pen and flipped through to find a new blank page.

Leaning against the headboard, I drew my legs up to my chest. Balancing the notebook on my makeshift desk, I began to write.

Dearest Ella,

I hope you are well. I think about you always. I’m sure you grow stronger and prettier every day.

Is your hair still black? Are your eyes still blue? I imagine what you look like, what your first words were, what your favorite foods are. I wish I knew. Have you started having play dates with other children your age? Friends are so important. They make the hard times seem not so hard.

Today is a hard time for me. I lost another friend today, the only one I had left. She’s moving away. I’m sad and lonely. Do you ever feel that way?

I stopped writing, unable to go on. I couldn’t do this. I just couldn’t anymore. Not all alone.

A tear fell. Sliding down my cheek, it plopped onto the lined paper, smudging my ink.

“I mess up everything,” I muttered.

Emotionally, I was at the end of my frayed rope. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hold on anymore.

I dropped the notebook. I didn’t want to write to Ella—I wanted to see her. Just a glimpse. No one would ever have to know. I needed this.

I put my boots back on, grabbed the keys to my Ford Explorer, and went out the door.

Through Southside, I drove. There wasn’t much traffic since it was a holiday, and most people were sleeping off staying up late to ring in the new year.

Anticipation built so high, I could hardly stand it after I exited the freeway. I slowed down crossing the bridge into the Skellins’ exclusive subdivision. I made one careful turn, then another, and rolled to a stop in front of their gate.

No one stirred behind the bars. Of course no one stirred behind them. It was the first of January, and it was cold. Ella was probably inside the house.

Was she dashing around on chubby toddler legs like Claire did now? Was she playing with her toys? Did the roof and the walls form merely a house for my daughter, or were they an actual home for her?

With my questions unanswered and no Ella, disappointment expanded inside me, stretching my chest tight. Tears filling my eyes, I dropped my head to the steering wheel.

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