Page 120 of Waiting For Fate

What happened Sweetheart?

Me

She blames me for not being there when it happened.

Mom

Oh, Sawyer. You know that isn’t your fault. She’s just hurting and needs time to grieve. Don’t give up on her.

For the first time in my life, I feel like giving up is exactly what I should do to make things right with her.

CHAPTER 52

LEAH

“Mom!” I run into the house and straight into her arms.

“Hey Sweetie.” She tilts her head, and I can see that her eyes are puffy from crying, but she’s putting on a brave face.

“What happened?” I sob, wrapped in her arms with mine squeezing her so tight I’m afraid I might break her. Hanging on this tight is the only thing that feels right at this moment though. Like if I keep her connected to me, there’s less of a chance she’ll disappear too.

“Why don’t we sit?” She keeps a tight hold on my hand as she leads us to the couch. I instinctively grab the blanket I always curl up in and pull it into my lap. She lets out a sigh and my heart sinks.

“Your father had a mini stroke about a month ago.”

And then it falls completely into my stomach.

“What? What do you mean? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Sweetheart.” She places her hand over mine where I’m picking anxiously at the string on the blanket stitch. “You were out there, living your own life, falling in love and having all the experiences a twenty-eight-year-old woman should have?—”

“SO?! You still could have told me that Dad wasn’t doing well. I would have made sure I was here more,” I sob, yanking my hand from hers to wipe the tears angrily away from my face.

“Leah, your father didn’t want to tell you. He went to his doctor afterwards and he said that we were doing everything we should be doing to keep him healthy but that these things just happen sometimes.” I know she’s trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working. It’s making me feel worse, actually.

I should have been here.

Whether I knew my dad was in ill health or not, I should have made time to see them.

“Your dad was so proud of you, and so happy to see you happy, we didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily over something we have no control over.” She wipes a tear from my cheek and caresses it with her thumb. I lean into her touch and let my eyes fall closed.

I can’t be mad at them. They’re the best parents I could have ever asked for. They were putting my feelings above theirs—like they always have—and making sure I had a good life.

So why am I still mad at them for not telling me?

“I understand,” I assure her.

“You know how much we love you, right sweet girl?” I nod and roll my lips to keep from breaking down again.

Of course I know that. It was the one thing they always made sure of.

“There you go, Sweetpea. You’re getting it.”

“Daddy look! I’m doing it all by myself!”

The old home video plays on my TV for the hundredth time while I sit on my couch, surrounded by tissues, and take out containers that are half full because I haven’t wanted to eat anything. I close my eyes and let more tears fall down my face, listening to my dad encourage me as I learned to ride my bike without training wheels for the first time. I’m met with visuals of us riding in his old Chevy with rock music playing, the windows down, and the flavor of the day ice cream in our hands. Mending my broken heart one ride around town at a time. Only now my heart is irreparably broken, and it’s because the one who had mended it so many times before, is gone.

Knock knock.

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