Page 1 of Unbearable

ONE

Dotty

MESS IT UP - GRACIE ABRAMS

It wasmy mother who first introduced me to the topic of death. I knew what the concept of death was, but my mother’s passing was the first time I truly grasped what it meant.

It had been almost twenty years since the day my dad sat my brothers and me down to deliver the news that our mom was gone and would never return. I still remember sitting in the family room at the ranch house. Frames adorned the walls and the comforting scent of my mother’s candles still lingered in the air as my father delivered the news.

I couldn’t contain my grief. How could I at ten years old? My brothers, Colt, Sawyer, and Dorian remained composed—their stoic selves silently absorbing the harsh reality.

My mother was vibrant and healthy, and I couldn’t understand how she was simplygone. That very morning, she’d made my breakfast in our sunny kitchen and quizzed me for my upcoming math test. The remnants of her homemade pancakes still remained in the kitchen. Thefinality of her death was incomprehensible, and it remained that way as I aged. While some daughters had years with their mothers, I was one of the unlucky ones who only had a handful I could vaguely remember.

Noah’s voice brought me out of my thoughts and back to the clothes I was packing in my suitcase. Our apartment was small but cozy, with light streaming through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the hardwood floor in my bedroom.

“I’m sorry, Dotty. I know this situation sucks, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.” She sighed. “Or even if you need to vent about your annoying brothers while you are there,” she teased, and I knew it was her attempt at lightening the mood.

“It’s okay, really.” I continued packing everything I would need for my stay and an extra month’s worth of things because I didn’t know how to pack for a single week.

“You are allowed to grieve and be sad, you know,” she said. Her bronze skin glimmered in the sunlight that streamed through the window as she sat on my bed.

My grandpa’s passing, while expected, was still heartbreaking. My grandparents had helped pick up the pieces after my mother passed away, helping my dad in any and every way they could. My grandpa’s health had been declining since my gram passed last year, and even though we knew this day was coming, it still was a tough reality to face.

“I made my peace with it a while ago, I said.

He hadn’t been coherent for months. We used to speak on the phone a couple of times a month, but that had ceased some time ago. I had already said my goodbye to him when his health began to deteriorate rapidly.

Despite knowing his situation, I could never summon the courage to go back to Woodstone Falls. After avoiding my hometown for a decade, I made every excuse I possibly could not to come back.

The longer I was away, the easier it was to stay away. What I didn’t think through was how I would want to come back for his funeral when the time did come.

“You may have made your peace with it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t bring up other things to the surface too.” She gave me an apprehensive look. “I know you don’t talk about her much, but I am always here.”

It didn’t take a mastermind to realize she was referring to my mother, but she was right.

I didn’t talk about her much.

It was one of the few topics Noah and I avoided. We could discuss anything—books and movies, the intricacies of our careers, even sex and our cycles—without hesitation. But talking about my mother was something she knew to steer clear of.

“I know. It’s hard to talk about her,” I said, my voice housing a tinge of guilt at the unavoidable restraint from holding something back.

“I know, I know.” She sighed. “But if you ever want to, you can. You know I’m always here for you.”

The reality was that my mother’s passing had a domino effect on my life. Before she passed, I was able to make friends and foster connections with those around me, even if it was difficult at times.

But it became much more difficult after she died.

My remaining friends seemed at a loss for how to relate to me, as though my mother’s absence required them to tread lightly, fearing I might break down at any moment. And when cruel prepubescence shits mocked the fact that Ino longer had a mother, myfriendsrefrained from defending me, choosing instead to align themselves with the bullies. My brothers kept them at bay, but sometimes that only isolated me even more.

Until Noah.

“Did I lose you?” she asked, bringing me back to the present.

“Sorry, lost in my head,” I admitted.

“I can see that.” She chuckled. “I’m going to miss you.” She pushed her lip out into a sad pout that made me laugh. “But I will try to keep your plants alive while you are gone. No promises.”

“If you do keep them alive, I owe you dinner.” I continued filling my suitcase.

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