Page 121 of When The Rain Falls

“I don’t always want you to protect me. I need you to give me more space sometimes. I won’t do everything the way you want me to. But I need to be able to do things for myself, you know? And I might mess up sometimes, but it’s better than just living in a bubble.”

“Ruby, I’m afraid that?—”

“Dad, you’re afraid too much.”

Fuck. That’s it. It hits me. As I sit right there on the dirty curb of the Pt. Evan’s High School parking lot. That’s what I need to let go of.

Fear.

Since Laurel died, my life has been ruled by fear. It’s why I’ve been clinging so tightly to my past. Not just because my past is full of cherished moments. But because, in my past, I know exactly where the heartache is. I can tense and brace for it. I know how hard it hits. I know how it feels when it strikes. The heartache of my past might devastate me. But it can’t surprise me.

And in some way, living in the past is like rewatching my home movies. The joy and the pain play out their courses obediently. They know their lines. They never go off script. In my past, nothing can break me. At least not the way Laurel’s death did when I experienced it the first time around.

But living in the past has taught me to be suspicious of anything new. It’s made me refuse to believe that joy can spring spontaneously from the pages of my life again.

And isn’t that exactly what Aimee has been showing me all these weeks? That joyisreal. That joy is strong enough to exist alongside pain without being swallowed up by it? That joy issomething I can have again. Something I can trust again.

I consider how brightly she filled my home. My life. My heart. I scrub my face and sigh. I want it. I want that joy. And I don’t just want any joy. I wantherjoy. I want her joy to fill all the rest of my measly days on this earth.

Fuck.

How have I been so stupid? How the hell have I been constantly looking backward with someone like Aimee standing in front of me?

I know what I need to do now. I know exactly what I need to do. I need to find her. I need to sit her down and make her stay. At least long enough to listen. Long enough for me to lay my heart out in front of her. All of it. With all its torn edges and broken parts. And then see if she still wants it.

Ruby elbows me. “Dad, you ok?”

“Yeah.” I rest a lazy elbow on my knee and pick at the grass between us. Then I look up and catch Ruby’s eyes. If I’m going to let go of fear. I better start with her.

“Ok,” I say, finally. “I’ll let you out of your bubble.”

“Really?”

“I guess,” I tell her, already regretful. “For some things. We’ll talk about it more later. But if you do get hurt or get into trouble. You tell me, ok?” I may not be able to protect her. But I can help. Because I know a thing or two about heartache.

Shit. I do not like this. Not one bit. But I let it go with an exhale that levels my chest.

“Alright, kiddo.” I stand and grab Ruby’s backpack from the ground. She takes my hand and I ease her up next to me before placing a hand on her shoulder.

“How do you feel about movie night?” I ask.

I feel Ruby shrug under my arm.

“I have some home movies that need watching,” I tell her as we meander back to the van. “And I don’t really want to watch them alone.”

“Home movies? Like of Mom?”

“Yes,” I say, “andof you. You, forcing Vivian to play the evil witch in all your princess games.” I chuckle at the memories. A commanding six-year-old Ruby pointing wildly at her younger sister, who she forced into an oversized witch robe. Telling her where to stand and what to say andexactlyhow to say it.

Ruby raises her face to mine. There’s a trace of Laurel there. I press my forehead to hers. “You were so damn bossy. Mom called you sassypants.”

“I was not bossy,” she protests, but she’s smiling back at me. “But I remember her calling me that.”

43I STILL HATE LEMONADE

AIMEE

"Racing tomorrow?"a friendly voice asks.

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