Page 81 of Lillian

No more crawling into my bed in the middle of the night because she’s had a bad dream or her room is too dark.

The thought alone makes me want to get a hotel for the night. Somewhere there aren’t any memories. The thought makes me feel weak, though. Instead, I go inside, walk right to my bed,grab the comforter, and drag it out to the couch where I fall asleep fast.

All alone.

Hey, babe. Just calling to say I miss you. Becca is almost completely moved in now. We painted her room. Black, go figure. But she says she wants it as the base so she can paint colorful murals on top. I don’t know anything about art, so I’m just going with it. She seems to be doing good, though. She asked about you. We would love it if you came over for dinner sometime soon. No pressure, though. Whenever you’re ready… Okay, well that’s all. Call when you can. I love you.

Three days later, I listen to Lincoln’s third voicemail. He’s called every day, and I let each one go to voicemail. Mostly because my phone was always out of reach. Somewhere in the kitchen or on the coffee table, and I couldn’t make myself move to grab it.

I didn’t leave my spot on the couch for the first forty-eight hours. I wasn’t eating, and I barely drank anything, so the only time I did get up was to go to the bathroom. Then I went right back to my emotional support blanket cocoon.

I do feel bad that I’m ignoring his calls and a lot of his texts. He sends frequent texts throughout the day. Mostly checking in on me. Asking me if I’ve eaten or how I slept. There were a few more Becca updates.

A lot goes unanswered, some don’t require an answer, and I send a few short texts back to let him know I’m okay. Or at least alive.

But on day three, I decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself. Which is why I took a shower, ate an apple with some peanut butter, and am currently sitting on Kim’s recliner. Kim is sitting on the couch with her swollen feet propped up in Jim’s lap.

She’s got to be close to popping now. Everything has started to swell, and she’s just this side of miserable. Physically and emotionally. I think she’s cried just as much, if not more, than I have the past few days.

Pregnancy hormones and all.

She went and saw Grace at the hospital yesterday. To check in during visiting hours and see how she’s doing. I called the hospital to ask how she was on the first day, but I was told I was put on a ‘no visit’ list. Which means no medical updates either. It made me want to drive up there anyway and slash Talia’s tires or key her car or something.

Instead, I sent Kim to check on her. Grace is doing much better and was even set to be discharged yesterday. They said most of the fluid is out of her lungs now, and she’s on the way to a full and speedy recovery.

We’re sitting in silence at the moment, each of us lost in our thoughts.

Then my phone chimes from wherever I left it. I ignore it.

Another chime.

And another.

Jim grunts as he pushes himself off the couch to follow the sound that I think is coming from the kitchen. I almost tell him not to bother, but he’s already grabbed it by then.

“It’s yours,” he tells me as he walks it over. But as he does, Jim glances at the screen. “It’s Lincoln.” The ire from breakfasta few weeks ago is gone, as I knew it would be. Jim doesn’t hold grudges, but he is fiercely protective. “How are things going with him?”

I shrug. “Good.”

“Just good?” His brow raises, expecting a little more.

“Things are great,” I shoot back.

“So where is he? How is he doing with everything? I thought he might be here with you.”

I hadn’t told Kim that I asked Lincoln for some space. I heard her voice in my head saying I was crazy, and I wasn’t ready to deal with that yet.

“He’s in Phoenix. His younger sister just moved in with him, so he’s making sure she’s settled.”

“That’s sweet,” Kim says slowly, but she’s eyeing me suspiciously. “He didn’t at least ask you to stay with them?”

Another shrug. “He did. But I needed some space.”

“He was okay with that?” It’s Jim’s turn to look suspicious.

“Yes. He’s been great about it,” I say honestly, and a pang of longing hits me.

“Hmmm,” Jim hums at me. He’s itching to say something else. The look in his eyes is indecision.

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