Page 89 of Those Two Words

“She is,” he agrees.

“Does she know that?”

There’s another long pause. I can picture the discomfort in George’s face right now. “I’ve been so worried about protecting her from the world that I failed to see how resilient she is.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what she needs to hear.”

“I think you’re right. It’s clear now why she fought me tooth and nail about leaving town. I wish I’d seen it sooner. I still stand by my word that time away was the best thing for her, and I know she carries around a lot of guilt about leaving when she did, but I think she’s just been biding her time. Waiting for the right moment to come home. To come home to you.”

Hours after George and I hang up, his words still echo in my ears.

To come home to you.

Why would Jo not tell me leaving wasn’t initially her idea, even if in the grand scheme of things, she needed it? It’s difficult not to type that very question out to her as I open our text thread. Instead, I let her know that I found her note.

Patrick: You make me happy too.

It’s past midnight, so I’m surprised when her reply chimes through.

Johanna: I wondered how long it would take you to find it.

Patrick: Not as long as it’s taken you to find the puzzle piece.

Johanna: Goodbye.

Chuckling at her response, I type out another text, hoping it doesn’t ruin the moment.

Patrick: Your dad called me. I think you should speak to him. He’s okay, but I think he misses you.

I wait a few minutes for her reply, expecting her to put up an argument.

Johanna: Okay. I will.

Johanna: Don’t think I won’t get payback for that puzzle piece comment.

Patrick: Oh I count on it. Goodnight, love.

thirty-six

JOHANNA

It’s Wednesday.

But not just any Wednesday.

May 17 is a day that will forever be ingrained in my brain. A day that started so perfectly but ended as the catalyst for all future years. It’s not to blame for how everything turned out, it’s just another devastating day in a timeline of events out of my control.

The evening before is a memory I replay often. It kept me warm when the chill of depression and anxiety tried to suffocate me, reminding me I don’t have a bad life.

My journey with anxiety and depression didn’t start on this day six years ago, but it took me some time to come to that realization.

I’ve been on this journey since the summer we lost Mom.

No one is ever prepared to lose a loved one, so when my kind, beautiful mother slipped away in the middle of the night from an undetected brain aneurysm, it was earth-shattering.

What few people know, and something to this day I still struggle to comprehend, is that I was the one to find her.

Dad left for work early, well before any of us had woken up, making the most of lazy Sundays in bed until we had to go back to school. Harriet and I woke up, watched TV, and didn’t really question why Mom hadn’t come down yet, and presumed she wanted to sleep in.

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