Page 78 of Warmer, Colder

And therein lies the problem,the rotted floorboards we’ve tried to build on top of. How is there any fixing it when the very core of our relationship is poisoned? When something’s bad from the start, you tear it out, straight from the root. That’s what I need to do. Tear Stasi out at the root. Get her out of my system, forget her, move on, start fresh, and figure out a way forward without her.

Without her.

Alone.

A simple word, but one that sinks right into my core and guts me in one fell swoop.

Squeaking hinges interrupt my spiraling and my stomach twists with relief only to drop into a deeper pit of despair. My mom closes the door and grabs my robe from the hook there. Bringing it to her nose, she takes a deep inhale. Her exhale is a tormented sob that rips through me, tearing through the curtain of resolve I’ve put up between myself and them. She staggers to the bed and collapses against my pillows, right next to me. It’s like I can feel the life thrumming off of her in the panting of her breath and her shaking limbs. Watching my mom fall apart stirs up regret and longing that I’ve been trying so hard to drown out. My body aches with the strain of every atom of my being trying to reach across the veil and clutch onto her.

“Mom,” I whisper because I know it doesn’t matter if I scream. “Mom, I’m sorry I did this to us.” Even though she can’t feel it and it makes no difference, I reach out and stroke at the tears that coat her cheeks. “I never would have hurt you like this if I could have seen clearly through my own pain. All there was for miles and miles was what appeared to be an endless sea of monsters lingering in the dark. I wasn’t strong enough to keep fighting. I was so tired, Mama.” I tuck my head against her chest, forcing her to hold me close. I ignore her responding shiver. “I didn’t mean to lead you into the darkness, too. I didn’tthink about you at all. I hope one day you can forgive me for that. I can’t bear the thought of you suffering forever.” A sniffle interrupts me. “You were a good mom. You didn’t deserve this kind of pain. I know I was your whole life, but I don’t want to be anymore. I need you to let me go.”

But she doesn’t leave. And I don’t have it in me to be the one to walk out that door just yet, so I close my eyes and simply enjoy the melody of her breathing, steady and slow, as she drifts into sleep. In each even breath, I can hear an echo of those lullabies she used to sing. Letting it transport me to another place, I sink into the comfort of my mother just this one more time.

By the time I open my eyes again, the sun is setting, casting my room in a sherbet glow that only brightens my mom’s smile. In her hand is one of the old photo albums I keep under my bed. This is one of the oldest, filled with pictures of me and Aiden where there are big gaps in our smiles and fewer differences between us. Years of family vacations—road trips to Vegas for the weekend, visits with our grandparents, and days at amusement parks—cover page after page as we travel through elementary and middle school. And that’s where I find Ana looking back at us, her soft round face hard to equate with the severe angles she favors with her makeup now. Instead of platinum and pink, dirty blond waves fall to her shoulders. It’s not easy to reconcile the two people. She’s changed so much, but in her eyes, the warm whiskey brown, I see the truth of it. Her gaze fixed on me in adoration instead of on the camera.

I missed so much.

But I guess that’s easy to do when you don’t want to see. To be fair to myself, I was just a child. But now…now I have a choice to make. Do I look away and shove her out of my life, or do I give us a real chance?

The words tumble from my mouth before I really think much of it, habit and instinct taking over. “It finally happened, Mom. Ithink I’m experiencing my first love. My last love? My only love? It’s complicated, but it’s just as painful as everyone says. Two times over, actually.” I scoot closer to her. “Do you remember Anastasia?” I laugh at myself. “Of course, you remember Ana. You used to ask me about her so much.” I swallow around the painful memory. “We found each other again. Would you believe it? Well, she found me. It’s actually kind of creepy...but also, romantic?” It’s romantic, isn’t it? I chew at the side of my finger. “Even though I was so lost, she came into that darkness for me. She was trying to protect me from Nate, that’s why he killed her.” Sitting up, I wrap my arms around my knees that I hug to my chest. “She came to set me free.” And suddenly all of the days of those childhood fantasies they try to sell us about the princess and the knight make so much more sense. But mine didn’t just try to save me from a dragon, she was trying to save me from myself. And just as I build up the fantasy in my head, I remind myself that she wanted something from me too. She hurt me, too. She set me free, but when she was breaking down those walls, I became collateral damage. “I think I love her. But she hurt me.” My wet cheek presses into the jutting bone of my knee. “She lied to me. She tricked me. At one point, she used me. That can’t be how you love someone. It’s not right. It doesn’t make sense.” Staring into my mother’s stormy grey eyes, I search for answers. But she can’t give them to me anymore.

I don’t need her to, because in the void of emptiness, there is only one thing that rings true: I love her. I love her for who she was to me, that matters, but for better or worse, I love her for who she is to me.For who she’s helped me become.

I need to tell her.

With purpose, I hop up from the bed, not even thinking about my mother sleeping there. But even though I’ve passed, her motherly instincts didn’t die. She sits up, eyes glued to the spot I was just residing in.

“Becca?” It’s hushed in disbelief, but the next time she says it her voice holds conviction. “Becca, sweetie? Is that you?” Her hand pats frantically across the empty space beside her. “Chris!” Her breaths are short as her eyes scan the area for any other signs. I remain still as stone. The need to call out to her crawls up my throat, sharp and desperate. But I refuse to feed into that hope. I can’t prolong her torment when I don’t know what my future holds. The restraint it takes has me shaking, but thankfully my dad is at her side holding her steady. Being the rock he’s always been for all of us. His arms lock around her waist as he whispers soothing words into her ear.

“No, Chris. No, she’s here. I can feel her. I told you. She was just here.” Her finger juts sharply to the bed repeatedly. “Becca was right there next to me. Becca is here now. Can’t you smell it?”

“Smell what, Erin? The dust. The lingering hint of our daughter’s fruity perfume?”

“No, past that. Can’t you smell the peach?” She turns in his arms, pleading with him to try harder. “Her hair. Can’t you smell it? Sweet. Soft. Her.”

My dad’s mouth opens and closes. He wants to understand, but he’s too in love with her to lie to her. Something I’ve always respected, but it fails to impress my mother, and she tears from his embrace. Bolting through the door, she’s back in seconds with my shampoo bottle in her hand.

“For Christ’s sake, Erin. Why do you still have that? We agreed.” My dad swipes a hand over his face.

“Breathe in deeply.” My mom waves her arm across the room, and her stare doesn’t leave him until he does so. “It’s. Her.” She flips the cap and presses it under my dad’s nose. “But much fainter, right?”

His cheeks hollow as water rises in his eyes. “Honey...” She bats away his hands as they reach for her.

“I know. A mother knows,” she insists, a punch to the gut that tears out my insides. “I know, Becca is here. I’m going to prove it.”

And then it’s just me and my dad as he takes a seat on the edge of my bed and hangs his head in his hands. The moment catches up to him, his breathing losing that even keel he maintained for her. “We miss you sweetie, but I can’t keep doing this.” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he does. “I love you. I hope you’re not still here. For your sake and your mom’s. She’s slipping away from me, but I won’t lose her, too.” His hand covers his mouth but not before I watch his lips quiver with unsteady resolve. “Forgive me, Becca. I hope you’ve found the peace you were looking for.”

It’s another death realizing how badly my parents need me to stop haunting them. My mom and dad were always there when I needed them—at least when I gave them the chance to be. I wish it could have been enough to keep me safe from the rest of the world; I wish it would have been enough to keep me from self-destructing. There was nothing else they could do, but there is something I can still do for them—I canlet them go.

Chapter 35

Stasi

99 Days Dead

What’s that proverb?If you love it, let it go. If it comes back, it’s yours and that’s how you know.Unfortunately, that’s just not my style. I could give her more than twenty-four hours to respond, but one day already feels like a week. Restlessness is my constant companion—that and the darkness that’s become parasitic, rarely leaving my side—scaring away rational thoughts and patience.

My hands yearn for productivity, so I grab the box of gel pens tucked into one of the cubbies and a piece of plain printer paper. I don’t have a plan when I start but I easily fall into the old habit of folding, licking, and tearing it so it’s a square—or close enough to it—then proceed to fold it into a series of triangles. On the outer triangles, I write the numbers and colors. On the inner ones, I use my purple gel pen to write the same thing over and over:Forgive Stasi.

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