Page 7 of Rent Free

Everest, however, was stationed in Fort Hood in the Army, but he was on leave for Mom’s funeral, and staying at his wife’s parents’ place in Canton before he had to get back to base at the end of his bereavement leave.

“Let me know what he says,” Tarrant grumbled.

I dropped face first on my bed the moment he left the room, and contemplated whether I was making the right decision or not.

The funeral had been hard.

The days after, when I realized I couldn’t call my mom with every little thought that popped into my head, were even harder.

I pulled out my phone and toggled to my mom’s text thread.

Today’s unread text message made my heart hurt.

Me:

Do you think that I can get a doctor’s appointment today?

Me:

How bad do you think it would be to mix my sleep medication with Benadryl? It says that it’ll give me hallucinogenic thoughts.

Me:

I hate this.

I’d sent the first two text messages on auto pilot, not remembering that my mom had died five days ago. The last text had come from me only after I realized I was waiting for a text message that wouldn’t come.

I couldn’t help but replay the last words my mom had ever said to me.

“In my next life, baby, I’ll give you a sign.”

“What kind of sign?” I asked through the tears.

“I’ll say a random phrase,” she suggested, her voice tired.

“Okay,” I sniffled. “What phrase?”

She smiled softly, her fight draining out of her. “I’ll say ‘my leg hurts.’”

She’d died shortly after that promise.

She’d died without ever being able to say goodbye to her youngest daughter.

Sage, the selfish fucking twat that she was.

Stiffening my spine, I turned to survey my room.

I loved Tarrant’s house.

He’d moved Mom and me in when we’d gotten Mom’s cancer diagnosis.

I’d lived with Tarrant’s wife and two teenagers, sharing Mom’s room with her as I helped her navigate the last few months of her life.

Now I was momless and angry, and I had this itch to scratch.

That itch was Sage.

She needed to hear what I had to say, and I wanted her to actually comprehend the words.