Page 200 of The Dixon Rule

“Hey,” Diana replies.

It’s not awkward or anything. Just depressing. Everything about this is depressing. So when my mom asks if she can speak to me alone, I welcome the respite. Except she takes me to the den, which is like entering a torture chamber.

Everywhere I look, I see my dad. I see our family photos. I see his books. I see those cardboard boxes he was sifting through on Thanksgiving.

“He wasn’t randomly cleaning out the attic, was he?” I say quietly.

Mom shakes her head. “No. He was searching for his most important belongings to give to you and your sister.”

A sob nearly cuts off my airway. The next thing I know, Mom hugs me fiercely, her arms wrapping around my waist.

This loss is…profound. I’ve never experienced anything like it. This gaping hole in my chest, as if someone ripped out something that makes up my core, a piece of me, and left nothing but pain and emptiness in its place.

“It’s okay, baby,” she says.

“No, it’s not okay. He’s gone.”

“I know.”

“So how is that okay?”

“It has to be. Otherwise, I’m going to drown,” she whispers.

For the first time in days, I take a good look at her. I was so worried about myself, and Maryanne, and Dad lying in his hospital bed, that I neglected to really notice my mother. I realize now how utterly destroyed she is.

“You’re not doing well.” I take her hand and lead her to one of the armchairs, forcing her to sit.

“No,” she admits. “I’m not. He was my high school sweetheart.” Her voice is choked. “What are we going to do now, Shane? How am I supposed to live without him?”

I reach for her, but she stumbles off the chair and walks toward his desk.

“How can I live in this house?” She waves her arms around. “I can’t stay in this house.”

“You don’t have to,” I assure her. “We’ll figure something out.”

She keeps her back to me, and I see her shoulders rise as she takes a long, deep breath.

That’s something I admire about my mom. I’ve seen her get emotional over the years, but she’s able to regulate so fast, calm herself in the blink of an eye. I watch her arch her back, straighten her shoulders. She’s in charge again. In control. She’s the town manager of Heartsong, Vermont. She knows how to get shit done, and I love her for it.

“I need a favor from you,” Mom says.

“Anything.”

“Maryanne’s not going back to school until January. There’s no point, since the holiday break starts soon anyway. Can she stay with you for a couple of weeks while I deal with the estate stuff and search for a new house?”

“Oh wow. You’re serious.”

“I cannot be here,” she repeats.

And I get it. He’s everywhere. This is my childhood home and I’ll miss it desperately, but the idea of being here without him is unbearable.

“I figured we’ll do the holidays at your aunt’s house. If that’s all right with you, I’ll let the rest of the family know.”

I nod. Usually we have everyone here, but I understand why she doesn’t want to.

“And of course Maryanne can come stay with me,” I tell Mom. “I’ll talk to my professors, see if I can bring her to some classes.”

“I think she’ll actually enjoy that.”

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