Page 101 of The Cost of Forgetting You

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I caution. “We’re—” What are we, exactly? More than friends but less than a couple, certainly. We have so much history. But how much future is possible when mine is so unclear? So dependent on my dad’s illness. And when Dad is gone? What happens when it’s time for me to go home?

Where even is home for me anymore, if not in Fly Hollow in that little clapboard house with my father?

“…feeling things out?” Alicia offers. “Did something happen with you two?”

I start to shake my head but pause, grimacing. “We kissed.”

“What?” Alicia shouts a little too loudly, while Tess wriggles her fingers together maniacally. The few diners sharing this room with us turn to glare, already irritated with us since we got special service. “Sorry!” Alicia whisper-shouts, shrinking into her shoulders a bit. Her gaze returns to mine and widens. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday. My dad had wandered off and emotions were running really high, so I don’t know how sincere it could possibly be.”

It’s a lie, one I sense the moment it passes over my lips. When I close my eyes, I can still see Truett standing in front of me, telling me he’s never going to walk away. The sincerity in his tone, the heat in his gaze… He may not have truly meant never, but he certainly meant for a long while. For as long as I’m here. Right?

Alicia’s brow furrows. “What happened with your dad?”

Tess’s face has gone blank. All the light that seemed to warm her golden skin a second ago is gone, and she’s pale by comparison.

I recognize her grief. I see it in the mirror all the time.

It helps a little bit, to know she’s not immune. Not perfect. It makes it feel like I don’t have to be either.

“He decided to go for a drive and didn’t tell anyone. Took my keys and drove off while his caretaker was in the bathroom. I was in Pensacola, about to fly home for a surgery my mom lied about having, and had to race back to help find him.” I blow out a long, slow breath. “Just a really bad day all around.”

Tess offers an empathetic smile. Her green eyes are glistening with tears.

Alicia sighs. “Are moms meant to fuck us up? Is that their sole purpose in life?”

“My mom was great,” Tess whispers. Her bottom lip quivers, and she bites down on it with shiny white teeth. “Not to brag or anything, but she really was.”

Alicia reaches across the table and smooths a hand down Tess’s forearm. “That’s not bragging. That’s how it should be.”

Tess sucks in a breath through her nose and leans back in her chair, tucking her hair behind her ear with a ring-laden hand. “What’s wrong with your dad, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He has dementia,” I explain. “He hasn’t really expressed a desire to go anywhere by himself since I’ve been back, so I never worried about him taking the keys. It was stupid of me.”

“Not stupid,” they correct simultaneously.

Our food arrives. The kid drops mine and Alicia’s plates unceremoniously but offers Tess a nervous smile when placing her avocado toast on the table. She barely glances up as she thanks him. He scurries away, but not before I note the sheen of sweat coating his brow.

“You just broke that boy’s heart,” I say, cutting a bite out of my pancakes. They’re nowhere near as good as mine, but I groan as they melt in my mouth all the same.

Tess glances up, eyes wide. “What’d I do?”

“She doesn’t know the effect she has on people,” Alicia explains, waving her fork. “Don’t change the subject. What are you going to do?”

I nod, remembering the plan we discussed in the quiet of my dark living room while I tried to drift back to sleep. “Keep my keys hidden at all times. I’m thinking about getting a doorbell camera or something installed, too. Just so I feel better.”

Alicia swallows a bite of bacon and chases it with a sip of the normal mimosa. “How long is this sustainable?”

My nose wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re twenty-six. How long are you going to be able to live like this? Putting your life on hold to be a 24-7 caretaker?” Alicia asks.

Tess studies me, her eyes kind, and offers a sad smile. Alicia goes on eating like she hasn’t just asked the million-dollar question.

I consider telling her I’m not putting my life on hold at all, but the thought immediately rings as untrue. Aren’t I doing exactly that? Making sure someone’s watching Dad when I can’t. Worrying about him at night. Dealing with his outbursts like they don’t chip away at who I am a little at a time. It’s exhausting, and for a moment I let myself feel it so deeply my bones ache, before shoving it back into the box where I keep those kinds of feelings.

I shrug, hoping it comes off as lighthearted. “My parents put their life on hold to have me. It’s the least I can do.”

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