Page 54 of The Darkest Parts of Me

I sigh heavily.

“So did he? Is everything okay?” she inquires.

I take a moment to think of how to approach this conversation. “Yes, everything is fine, Mom. It was just a hard couple of days.”

“I should have come up there to be with you. That was a mistake . . .”

“Mom, no. You can’t run up here every time things get hard. That defeats the purpose of why I’m here.”

She doesn’t say anything for several seconds, and I don’t know how to tell her what Renn did for me, or if she needs to know at all. I find it difficult to think of the right way to say it without making her worry or having her ask too many questions. But something I know without a doubt is that my time with Renn showed me that strength isn’t earned by doing things in solidarity, it’s about having the courage to face your challenges. It means never facing them alone. I think about saying this to her, but I don’t.

“It’s still a bit complicated, isn’t it? Not knowing how to feel or what to do,” she sighs.

I smile sadly, her words resonating with me for the first time in a long time. “It is. I feel guilty when I don’t feel sad all the time, but ashamed to think of what Dad would say if I was just wallowing. You know?”

It’s strange that we’ve never really spoken about this before, but for some reason, thoughts keep pouring from us both.

“I may not know a lot of things, but I do know this: Your father would have wanted you to be happy and live your life to the absolute fullest. He would have wanted you to live.”

I choke back the tears, and I know she hears the strain in my voice as I reply, “Thank you, Mom.” I pause for a moment. “And I should have called. I’m sorry. I just needed to process some things.”

“I understand. I stayed home all day yesterday, but I’m going out with a few friends tonight to get out of this funk.” My heart feels a bit lighter at this.

“That’s great, Mom. I’m glad,” I say with a small smile.

“So . . . you didn’t answer my second question. What happened with Renn?”

Here we go.

“Nothing. He just came over to see if I was okay and then we hung out.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re leaving something out?”

“It was nothing. Like I said, I had a couple of bad days. Tasha told him I might need some company, so he came over, and that’s it.”

It’s quiet on her end of the phone, yet so much could be said in these few seconds of silence. I know she’s contemplating if she should push for more details or drop it for another time. Thankfully, she chooses the latter.

“Well, I’m glad he stopped by then. What are you up to today?”

“I’m going into town for a little bit. I’m planning to stop by the coffee shop.”

“That sounds great. Message me later when you get home.”

“I will. Have fun with your friends. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I tap the screen to end the call. I wasn’t planning on that conversation going the way it did, but I’m glad nonetheless. It was just a few words, but they were words that my mom and I have danced around for years.

I look toward the bed, picturing Renn and me lying there, side by side, his arm around me. I don’t push aside the satisfaction I feel that what happened on the retreat wasn’t all in my head. I had started to wonder if he had even spared a thought for me at all, but after last night and this morning—whatever he felt for me, whatever friendship we had between us, I can tell it had consumed him as much as it had me.

I walk over to his side of the bed, picking up the pillow he laid on, bringing it to my nose to inhale his scent deeply. The muskiness that I’ve learned to recognize so well washes over me. Catching myself in the moment, I quickly throw it back onto the bed.

“Don’t be creepy,” I say aloud, turning to my closet to find something to wear to take on the day, truly grateful that I have another day to live, and for the people in my life who make it worth living.

---