Page 45 of Don't Let Go

“Sometimes, we need to let the truth out. It’s something my mom used to say.”

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Funny. My papà said something similar. He said lies eat you alive, and the truth sets you free.” With that, she closed her window and was gone.

I still couldn’t sleep. The night air was chilly and no longer refreshing. I went inside and grabbed my copy ofHamlet, before hopping onto my bed and opening the book.

To join South Ridge’s team or not join South Ridge’s team, that was the question.

22

Aurora

The date on my phone dug a hole in my chest, reminding me of the worst day of my life. Two years ago, my papà died in front of me. It didn’t feel like it was that long ago. It felt more like it was last week when I lost him. This morning, the feeling was so raw that tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. My phone fell from my grasp, hitting the carpet with a thud. Thankfully, it was Saturday, and all I wanted to do was spend the entire day curled into the fetal position in bed and weep.

Someone knocked on my door. “Rory! Mamma’s gone. Can you make breakfast?” The door opened and Lizzy stood in the doorway, hugging her stuffed bunny to her chest. If it was anyone else, I’d tell them to fend for themselves, but I couldn’t say that to her.

“I’ll be down in a few,” I replied, sitting up and stepping into my gray slippers.

“Okay!” She sounded happy and padded down the hallway holding the stuffed bunny’s arm.

I grabbed my purple pillow and sat it on my lap. It was soft velvet, and it smelled like my apple-scented shampoo. I grabbed the edges of the pillow and held it against my face, screaming into it. I pressed the fabric to my mouth, masking my screams of agony. I then tossed the pillow toward the headboard and got dressed.

After brushing my hair, I swept it into a messy ponytail and went downstairs to feed the hungry wolves.

My brothers had already left for work. Carmen laid on the couch in the living room watching10 Things I Hate About You, and Lizzy sat on the floor coloring. She immediately dropped her crayons and jumped to her feet when she saw me in the doorway.

“Can you make pancakes, please?” Lizzy begged, following me into the kitchen.

“Yes,” I said, giving her half a smile. I couldn’t fight off the melancholy feeling. My sorrow was too strong today. It was hard to breathe, yet there I was, standing on my own two feet making pancakes for my sisters.

Lizzy touched my arm with her cold hand. “What’s the matter? You look sad.”

I licked my lips as I poured the pancake mix and water into the mixing bowl. “It’s a gloomy day. Papà died two years ago today.”

“Oh.” Lizzy blinked. “I don’t remember him.” She turned and went to the fridge, looking for something.

I gasped, feeling like a shard of broken glass cut through my heart. It killed me that Lizzy would never have a memory of our papà. He was a good man and loved us dearly. He was the one who taught me how to cook. He used to sing silly songs whilecooking. My siblings always groaned when he sang, but I loved it.

As I stirred the contents together and placed the frying pan on the burner, I hummed one of Papà’s songs.

Carmen came in and grabbed the orange juice. “What are you humming? It sounds vaguely familiar. I remember it annoying me.”

I cackled, shaking my head. “You don’t remember? It was one of Papà’s favorite songs to sing when he cooked.”

I stopped stirring and bopped my head a little like a pigeon as I sang, “We like to cook. We like to cook. Come take a look at my cookbook. You’ll come for the smells and stay for the grub. We like to cook. Oh, we like to—”

“God! Stop that! I always hated it when he sang. He was good at embarrassing me even when there was no one around to witness it. I was embarrassed about having to live through it.”

I shrugged, pouring the batter into the pan, making three circles of goo. “I thought a song was needed this morning since today is the second anniversary of his passing.”

“Two years? Wow. I thought it was longer.” Carmen poured herself a glass of orange juice and chugged it.

“Don’t you miss him?” I asked, grabbing a spatula from the dish drainer.

Carmen refilled her glass of orange juice and joined Lizzy at the kitchen table. “I did at first. It was weird coming home from school and not hearing him clash around in the kitchen or outside working on something. Guess I got used to him being gone.” She took a sip of her juice.

A heavyweight came over me. It felt like I was wearing a lead jacket. If Lizzy had no memory of our papà and Carmen no longer cared, that only left our brothers. After we ate, I’d have to check in. Hopefully, one of them shared my pain for this tragic day. I couldn’t mention it to Mamma. She worked extra hardaround this day to forget. I wouldn’t put it past her to be working until the wee hours of the night.

The three of us took our pancakes into the living room and finished watching the movie. Carmen pointed her fork at the TV and, while still chewing, said, “You remind me a lot of Kat.”

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