Page 99 of Oliver

Fuck me.

Closing out the laptop, I rub my aching head before glancing out the window. Oliver is gone and ignoring the kernel of disappointment, I curl back up on the bed.

I’m exhausted. I shouldn't be because I haven’t done anything but lay around for days. That’s depression for you. When Mom was at her worst, she wouldn’t even come out of her room.

Short of watching television though, I’m fresh out of options. Unless I want to hang out with Sabrina. Thoughts of which make me laugh so hard, I cry.

I’m not that desperate—yet.

Later I rouse and head downstairs for a drink of water. My mouth is so dry, I can barely swallow, and the cool liquid feels amazing against my parched lips.

Eyeing the peanut butter still sitting on the counter, I shrug and grab a new spoon before eating as much as I can. The gooey mass sticks to the roof of my mouth but my stomach approves with a gurgle.

Satisfied with my efforts, I wander the house, picking up and putting down articles that are now artifacts of another life.

Mom’s blue sweater. It was her favorite and now the elbows are worn down, the vibrant color dulled by multiple washings.

After putting it on, I inhale her scent before glancing through the photos on the shelf, our life from before Dad died arranged in a hodgepodge of frames and sizes.

My heart aches at the image of Dixie, maybe five years old, smiling at the camera with a gap between her front teeth. Next to it, is a picture from maybe ten years ago. Dad has his arms wrapped around us and we’re sandy and wet from a day at the beach.

What would he think if he could see us…me now?

Ugh. That’s a rabbit hole I do not want to go down. With a sigh, I set the picture back on the shelf and move to the next.

It’s the only newer picture here, and I smile at the memory that surfaces. Dixie wanted to get out of the house, and I agreed after being cooped up all day. For me, homeschooling meant I almost never went anywhere.

So, we made a makeshift picnic basket and went to the park. It was a fun, relaxing day between just us girls.

I miss those days and with an ache in my heart, I grab my keys and rush to my car. Maybe it’s stupid, but I feel like being near the memory will remind me of the girl I thought I knew.

My heart thrums painfully under my skin and I pull up my phone, trying to recreate the route we took.

Dixie’s smiling eyes and pretty hair enter my vision and I shake my head, wishing once more that I had another chance to speak to the little troublemaker. I want to shake some sense into her and tell her to back the fuck off but it's too fucking late for that.

Instead, I move the map around until I find the park about forty-five minutes away.

After spending an hour walking through the sand and staring at all the families playing together, I find myself back in my car, conceding defeat.

Resting my head against the steering wheel, I sob into the universe because I’m so fucking tired. Every second that Mom and Dixie are gone is harder than the last.

This felt like such a good idea but of course, it ended in nothing but a series of painful memories reminding me of my failures.

With a sigh, I wipe my face and put the car in gear. On the way back, I ignore the beautiful homes and stare into the distance, my mind whirling once more.

What am I going to do? Now that this is over, I have to consider next steps. Get a job. Find a place to live.

It’s all so mundane in comparison to the last few weeks though. Either way, the time has come for me to consider my uncle's warning.

When the low gas light blinks on my dash, I roll my eyes and mumble, “Okay. I get it. No more fucking around.”

It’s only as I pull into a place a mile down that I realize, I’ve spent so much time worrying about this that I kept pushing away the reality. I don’t have money. Mom is dead.

When my card is declined, I hand over my last twenty dollars with a grimace. It’s enough gas to get me home, at the least, and I pull from the gas station, ignoring my rumbling tummy.

Okay, whatever. I’ll go home and start searching for apartments after I call Uncle Hank and beg for a few dollars to buy food.

Rubbing my aching eyes, I turn on the blinker and glance to my left, freezing when I spy a sign over a broken-down restaurant with boarded windows and a barren parking lot.

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