Page 2 of Broken Hearts

I head upstairs to her room; the door is closed, and I slowly open it, whispering her name in the hopes of not having her murder me for coming in at this hour.

“Mom,” I say, this time louder, but she doesn’t wake. Shit, this is going to be harder than I thought. I figured she’d shoot up in bed as soon as she heard my voice.

“Mom,” I say again, standing right next to where she’s sleeping. “Angie!” My words come out louder than I expect, desperate for her to wake up and help me understand how I’m supposed to deal with the death of my absentee father.

“Jesus, fuck, Sage!” she screams, nearly punching me when she flings herself from the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, an uncomfortable laugh leaving my mouth as I think about my mom swearing. Not like it’s the first time it’s ever happened, but in this moment, it feels that way. I feel like a kid again, standing beside her bed as if I’m sick and need her. In a way, I am.

I might be twenty-two and in my last semester of school, ready to catapult myself into adulthood and the real world, but in this moment, I feel like I’m thirteen again.

“Are you okay? What are you doing here?” I can see the fear on her face now, her eyes wide and questioning.

“My dad died,” I say without any hesitation, but there’s this void to my words that I hate.

“Sage, what?” she replies, and, like me, she’s struggling to process it too.

My parents were never married, actually, they never even dated. My mom was in Hawaii for work, scouting locations to film a movie. She’s a location scout; that’s her job, something she has always loved, and it’s perfect for her because she never really settles down. I’d call her a free spirit, but she hates that term.

They hooked up one night after he taught her how to surf, and clearly, neither of them was concerned at all about STDs or getting pregnant because nine months later, I came along.

She never kept it from my dad that she was pregnant, and neither one of them tried to act like they were anything more than a random hook-up. He showed up when I was born, barely making it there for my birth, which really should be something that goes down in a record book. He flew from Hawaii to New York and still made it.

My mom leans over and turns on the light, her brow furrowed, and I watch as she swallows hard. “Are you okay?” she now asks, swinging her legs off the bed and slipping her feet into the slippers beside it.

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I don’t know what to feel.” I scrub my hands over my face, a headache beginning to build.

“What happened?” she asks, guiding me out of her room and back downstairs.

I answer with the same response I gave when she asked if I was okay. “I don’t know. The woman on the phone told me he had a surfing accident.”

“Wow, that feels way too fitting,” she says, and I hit her with a sideways glance. “Come on, Sage, your dad owns a surf shop. He wouldn’t leave Hawaii for the mainland even after you were born. He couldn’t be away from the ocean for longer than a minute.”

“Owned a surf shop,” I correct, my heart clenching at the idea that the one thing he loved more than anything is no longer his. “They’re having a memorial for him in three weeks. I have the information right here.”

I show her my phone, not that it matters. The information means nothing to us, unfamiliar with the area or anything he’s linked to. I have only vague memories of his surf shop and his house, so vague they almost feel like a dream.

“You’re going, right?” she asks, and I quickly nod my head. I should go. I have to go, even if we didn’t have a relationship.

“Will you come with me?” I ask, the question said with desperation. “I don’t want to go alone.” I take in a ragged breath; the threat of tears stings my nose.

“Sage, no. This is something you need to do on your own. I didn’t really have a relationship with your father. We weren’t co-parents or even acquaintances,” she says, and I can hear the slightest tinge of guilt in her voice.

“Mom,” I plead, and she shakes her head. “I don’t even?—”

I don’t get a chance to finish my thought before she interrupts me with a firm tone in her voice. “Sage, it doesn’t matter if you know him or not. He’s your father and this is for you to deal with. I know it hasn’t always been easy and some of that is on me, but now’s the time to come to terms with the relationship you did have with him.”

Shit, she’s really laying it on thick here, and as much as I know I need to go, I’m terrified to see the life he built. It was a life that never included me.

“Okay, but I have classes starting back up in a few days. How the hell am I supposed to miss that?” It’s an excuse that I hope gets me out of this, but I know it won’t.

“Please, if you tell your professors that your father passed away, I think they’ll understand,” she says, rolling her eyes at my poor excuse.

She reaches over and unplugs her laptop from where it’s charging on the counter. “Let’s get you a flight booked,” she says, taking in a deep breath. “I’m sorry this is happening, Sage.” She looks over at me, tears in her eyes, and I rest my head on her shoulder.

She drops a kiss on the top of my head and that’s when I lose it. Tears begin to stream down my face, unsure if I should be upset. I know very little about him, but I still feel the need to grieve the loss. He was my father, a man that most girls look up to, but I don’t even know where to begin with him.

“It’s okay,” my mom whispers, wrapping her arms around me. “Go to Maui and spend some time there. It’s a beautiful place.”

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