Page 32 of The Cost of Forgetting You

I nod instead. His shoulders slump beneath the weight of his relief.

Affection used to flow freely between my dad and me. We were the huggers. The teasing pinchers. The elbow nudgers and hip bumpers. The awkwardness I’ve felt since returning has made that piece of our relationship so dim. A shadow of what it once was. Despite this, or maybe because of it, I find myself wandering over to him and looping my arm around his neck. Placing a kiss on his forehead. His breath, now fresh with the scent of toothpaste, flows over me. He leans into me, humming his appreciation, while the heartbreaking melody fades away.

He moves on to a song I don’t recognize. Something equal parts mournful and joyous. I back out of the room, leaving it cracked so he can fill the entire house with music.

My flip-flops slap against the hot asphalt, the plastic melting slightly on the scalding parking lot. The post office is a brown, squatty building with a metal roof and a faded American flag fluttering high on the pole outside. A bell chimes when I open the door, and a blast of cool air makes my eyes water. It’s a single room, with PO boxes lining one wall and a framed-in desk with a door on the left separating the customer area from the mailroom. Behind the counter, Odette Love is fanning her face with a newspaper, a thin sheen of sweat coating her brown skin.

“Delilah Ridgefield, as I live and breathe!” She shimmies off her stool, drops the newspaper on the register, and reaches for me over the counter.

I take her outstretched hands, littered with wrinkles and sunspots, and smile awkwardly.

“I saw your package come in and thought it must be some kind of mistake.” She squeezes so hard the bones in my hands grind together. “How long has it been? You’re so grown. And beautiful.” She releases me, then does a twirl with her finger. “You know, you look just like your grandmother. She sure was a stunner.”

My shoes stick to the floor when I try to spin for her. The whole movement is clumsy and unfamiliar. I’m not used to being observed from one direction, let alone all 360 degrees. The compliment tucks itself behind my sternum, making my chest tight. The version of Nana I knew was a shadow of what faded photographs tell me she once was. To be compared to a woman I’ve heard nothing but praises for, even if it’s hard to believe Odette’s words, fills me with warmth.

I place my fingertips on the counter to steady myself, though my world goes on spinning for a few seconds. “So you got my package?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She shuffles down an aisle of shelves behind the desk, gaze combing the stack of boxes. She notes what I assume is mine with a harrumph and turns to me. “I’ve got a bad shoulder. Can you come grab it, sugar? Leonard is out doing deliveries, or I’d trouble him.”

“Sure.”

“Just reach over that little partition and grab the latch.” She swats a hand. “No, other side. There you go.”

The top half of the Dutch door is already open and resting against the wall of PO boxes. I open the bottom partition gingerly and step through. She points out which one is mine, a large Amazon box that my mother has repurposed. I hoist it from the bottom shelf with a grunt. “I see why you didn’t want to lift it.”

Odette scoffs. “Apparently your mother shipped a box of weights.”

I snicker. My walk back to the front is more of a waddle as I work to find a comfortable position for the heavy package.

“How is she doing anyway? Your mother.”

That question again. Odette locks eyes with me, barely guarding the curiosity in her expression. No one loves gossip more than the postmaster, and she gets plenty of it in her position. I’m convinced it’s why she hasn’t retired. She sits here all day, waiting for someone like me to walk in. A fresh story. If anyone didn’t know I was in town before, by the end of today they will.

A wrinkle forms between my brows. No matter how complicated my feelings toward my mother are, I still remember how it felt to have our family’s worst moment on display for the whole town to dissect. Horrible. Invasive. The whispers about her, about my dad, from the kids in the hallways and people behind me in line at Sunshine Grocery alike, still haunt me. And though Odette has never been anything but kind to me, I can’t help but feel defensive. I couldn’t protect my parents from themselves, but I can protect them from this.

“She’s fine.” I plaster a glittering smile on my face. “Better than ever.”

Odette licks her lips, which in turn spread into a jovial smile. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

I nod. “Take care, Miss Odette.”

“You too, sugar.” She retrieves the newspaper from the register and starts fanning herself again. “Don’t be a stranger.”

A chiming bell announces my exit and drowns out my half-hearted reply.

Mom picks up before the phone has finished its first ring. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

I stop at the only blinking red light in town, waving a tractor on. Once he clears the intersection, I pull forward.

“I got your package. Thank you for sending it.”

“You’re welcome.” Her tone is clipped. She may allow me to gloss over her comment, but she’s not going to forget it either. She sighs dramatically. “I meant to return your call, but it’s been such a busy week. I’ve picked up a few extra shifts since I’ve got no one at home to spend time with.”

“At least you’ll have some extra spending money.”

We both know she doesn’t need it. Just like we both know what she’s trying to imply.

I turn down the dirt road that leads to our house. In the distance, Truett’s four-wheeler zips across the pasture. There’s a calf splayed over his lap, and what I presume is the calf’s mama trotting close behind as they head for the barn in the shallow valley behind his house.

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