Page 46 of Absolution

I clear my throat. “I… don’t think she knows that either.”

“Oh my God. Where have you been living? In a hole?”

Right outside the entrance stands a large burgundy SUV I recognize. “Mom, did you park here?”

She shrugs. “I found it convenient. The parking garage is so far away.”

I look at the large concrete building situated right across the street. A walk that would have taken her two minutes. “Aren’t you afraid to get fined? Or towed? Jeez.”

The doors click open. “Isn’t this comfortable, though?” She grins mischievously. “I bought a seat for Cecilia. I hope it’s the right size.”

I buckle up my daughter in a perfectly sized seat, and help Mom with the second bag, sending me into a coughing fit that feels like it lasts for days.

Mom lays her hands on my shoulders, her face laced with concern. “You need to have someone look at that. I’ll call my doctor asap.”

“It has been looked at,” I gasp. “It’s okay.”

She frowns and shakes her head. “That is not good enough.”

I climb into the backseat next to Cece. “Let’s just go, please. I wanna go home.”

Mom jumps in. Her vigor amazing for being close to sixty. “My place or yours?”

“Do I have anything at my place?”

“Of course, hon. I stocked your fridge. There are diapers and soap, shampoo, everything. Your bed is made.” She glances at Cecilia who is staring at all the people who rush by. “I think we need to buy a bed for her as well.”

“You don’t have to do everything. And thank you!”

“I’ve… I’ve missed you so much. Please allow me. I want you to feel at home. And to never leave again.”

Tears well up in my eyes as my chest tightens. I don’t ever want to leave again, and I might not have a reason. Salvatore said he won’t come after me, and Christian… Christian is dead. A pang of pain hits my chest. I wipe my eyes and nod.

“My place,” I croak.

We’re home.

My steps echo in the well-known rooms as I close the book and walk up to the giant window. It’s night and I can’t sleep. Too much has happened. I’m standing at almost the same spot as when I camped here those first days after Christian’s attack. The same ache as always clutches my chest and makes me press the heel of my palm to cover my heart. Why does it hurt so much? We barely knew each other, and what I know about him is absolutely horrifying. A life of violence. A killer. How did I ever see something else in him?

Outside it’s quiet and still. The bridge glitters faithfully, its lights dimmed in the slight fog over the bay, hovering eerily. The moon is full and blood red, huge, hanging right at the horizon, reflecting in the peaceful ocean. The tranquility of the scenery in a way the same I experienced in the cabin, and still so very different.

I grip my side and fight the urge to cough. If I start it never stops and I know by now that if I subdue the reflex it passes after a while. I know I’m not supposed to, they told me the cough is meant to clear the airways, but I cough until I taste blood, and that just can’t be right.

Mom ran errands the whole first day, mobilizing every old lady she knows, finding a crib for Cece, cooking for us, staying way too late.

Christmas has come and gone almost unnoticed. Mom was here for a few hours and doused us with gifts. I should be the one sucking up to her, but she is so happy that we’re back that I just let whatever happens between us run its course. It’s a strange and a bit strained dynamic, but how can it be natural after everything we’ve been through?

On New Year’s Eve I watched the fireworks light up the sky, standing on my patio with a blanket tightly wrapped around my body. I felt no joy over a new year. I can’t see the future. It’s a black hole, as black as the void in my heart.

Cecilia is sleeping soundly upstairs, snoring, still having a bit of a cold, but she’s healing quickly. Quicker than me. Sometimes my little girl seems to be made out of steel and reminds me whose daughter she is—too. Myself, I haven’t lain down yet. I drink tea, think, write a little, and just exist.

Dawn is only an hour away. Yet another sleepless night lies behind me. Yet another warped day awaits, where I’m barely awake, barely believing I’m back here, and at the same time hyper sensitized, experiencing everything so clearly as if through a magnifying glass. Every scent, every breeze, the faint sun on my skin, walking the streets of my hometown, my daughter’s breathing, every heartbeat.

Every memory.

Cecilia has accepted her new surroundings with a child’s amazing capability to adjust. She keeps talking about ‘Daddy’. I simply tell her he’s gone.

I’m done with lying.

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