Page 9 of Buried Dreams

“Oh, come on,” my mother groans, “my ass is getting numb from sitting in this chair.”

“And then it comes to the next part,” he continues, and even I know she won’t like this. “Six weeks, no work. I want you up and walking a couple of times a day, and then we can see how that goes.”

“No.” My mother shakes her head, but I do notice she hasn’t jumped out of her chair, something she would have done if she was actually feeling one hundred percent. “Absolutely not.”

“Madeline.” He says her full name and if my mother’s head could spin around, it would. “I don’t think you understand what just happened. You could have died.” He takes a minute. “How would you feel if you left Everleigh?” He uses me as a secret weapon, and if I could high-five him, I think I would. “Now, think of that when you are arguing with me.” The glare is on point. “I know how hard this will be for you, but you have to fucking rest.” His voice gets tight. “Excuse my language.” He looks over at me, and I just shake my head, trying not to laugh. “Now, you are going to listen to me and do everything I tell you to do because no one wants to lose you, no matter how stubborn you are.” He about hisses out the last part. “I’ll be back later if you have any questions.” He looks at her one more time before turning and practically storming out of the room.

I wait to make sure he’s gone before I turn to look at my mother, her eyes staring at the empty doorway. “What was that all about?”

“He’s being dramatic.” She plays it off. “He’s always been like that.”

“How do you know him so”—I fold my arms over my chest—“well?”

“We knew each other in high school,” my mother relays softly, and my mouth hangs open. “He left to go to medical school. He’s been in and out of town since then. A couple of years ago, he decided he wanted to come back to town.”

“Are you two”—I point at her, then point at the door—“like, a thing?” I’m still confused at the scene that just played out, and I wonder if I should have disappeared when they were having their discussion.

“Don’t be silly.” She avoids looking at me. “How is the bakery?”

“Deflection at its finest,” I retort, and instead of pressing her further, I tell her about the bakery. I stay until it’s after dinnertime, only leaving when she is getting into bed. “See you tomorrow.” I kiss her cheek before walking out and toward the elevator.

Oliver steps out when I’m about to step in, and he holds the door open with his arm for me to enter. “How is she?” he asks.

“She was just getting into bed,” I say, and he nods.

“Did she plan my death yet?” His voice is soft and full of worry.

“Oh, yeah.” I laugh when I say it and see the anguish on his face. “But if it makes you feel better, she’s also planning mine. Guess we are going down together.”

He shakes his head. “Impossible. You are what she lives for.” I swallow the lump that suddenly rushes up to my throat. “Have a good night, Everleigh.”

I step into the elevator and wait for the doors to close before I let out my breath. I make it back to my mother’s house, grabbing a sandwich and then heading off to bed. Luckily, I’m so exhausted that sleep takes me right away. But my dreams, my dreams never allow me to let go of the past.

When the alarm buzzes the following morning, my eyes flutter open, and it takes me a second to remember where I am. I’m in my childhood home in the single bed I’ve always had, in the room where I haven’t slept for the past eleven years. I turn on my back, get out of bed, and make my way to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, I’m opening the front door and stepping out into the warm breeze. The sun is just coming up, and birds are chirping as I walk down the steps, past my car, and toward the street. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve done this, but then again, it seems like I was walking out of the front door and heading to school just yesterday. It suddenly seems like I never left this town, and I don’t know how I feel about that.

I head down the street and around the corner. Most of the houses are quiet. A couple of people are outside grabbing their paper, which has become almost nonexistent in the city, but not here. One of the older men is watering their flowers as I walk by, and like always, they look over, and I get a surprised look. They aren’t the only one who’s surprised I’m back.

“Hey, Everleigh,” Mr. Hank says, turning off his hose, “how is your mom doing?”

The news of her heart attack flew through town like wildfire. “She’s coming home today,” I say happily.

“I’ll tell Mrs. Hank, and we’ll bring over some food,” he informs me, and I just smile at him before walking to the bakery. It takes fifteen minutes for me to walk to the bakery as I pass things that automatically make the memories come back. Memories simmering at the edge, but I’m keeping them at bay. My head is not ready to go through them all right now. One thing at a time, I guess. Right now, my main focus is getting my mother better and trying to keep her from getting all fired up. I know the next six weeks will be hell for both of us. More for her than for me, but still.

I pass by the mechanic shop, and I know the minute I do because, even if I wasn’t looking up, my chest always tightens as I pass by it. Like my heart knows that half of its missing piece is lingering somewhere on his property. I breathe in and out as I make my way past the shop, my chest loosening as I do it.

I open the bakery and head to the back to start the donuts, and Harmony comes in, dropping off the cakes. I’m almost done filling the front when the door opens, and I look up.

My face looks like it’s seen a ghost because it feels like it. She walks in pushing a baby stroller in front of her, and I look at her and then the child, who is sitting up with his straps over his chest. One of his chubby legs is on the handle while he looks around, babbling. His soft black hair is combed to the side. “Hi,” Autumn says softly when she gets to the counter, and I look back at her. “I heard you were back in town.” The last time I spoke to her, I told her I never wanted to see her again. I also told her she was the world’s shittiest friend. Through the years, I’ve regretted saying those words because, in the end, I was the one who became the shittiest friend. When she needed me the most, I turned my back on her, but I was going through so much that all I could see was my hurt and pain and not hers.

“Hi,” I reply, my heart beating so hard in my chest it’s making it hard for me to breathe. “I am.”

“I heard about your mom,” she starts, and I just nod as the little boy twists in his seat to look back at her, making sure she knows he wants out. “I’m so sorry,” she says and all of the words I’ve wanted to say to her over the years disappear when I see her lean down and unbuckle her son and then pick him up, kissing his head. “Hey, Mr. Big Man,” she coos softly, “this is Everleigh.” She tells him my name. “This is my son, Landon William, but we call him Wills.” I don’t say anything. “I wanted you to meet him.” She has tears in her eyes. “I was hoping that maybe… perhaps, if you had time, you would want to sit down and talk.” All I can do is stare at the little boy in her arms, and it dawns on me how much I missed. How much I’ve locked myself away from everyone and everything.

“You have a baby,” I finally am able to say, “like a real baby.” She laughs through her tears.

“Trust me, he’s as real as it gets.” He slaps her chest.

“I had no idea. Mom never mentioned anything.” I trail off, not really sure I should tell her I forbade Mom to even bring her up. After what she did, I wanted nothing to do with her. I didn’t want to speak to her.

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