Page 71 of Sass

“We know it’s a lot to take in, forallof you,” my father admitted. “But it’s time everyone knew. And no matter what anyone thinks, including you, we don’t regret helping and we never will. Gina is doing better now, and at some point, we hope to visit face to face. Maybe convince her to do the same with us.”

My horrified gaze jerked to his. “I hope you’re not thinking of inviting her to—”

“No.” My father raised his palms. “Definitely not. And we’re not expecting anything from the rest of you, either. We’re just letting you know. We intend to see her first at her parent’s house, that’s all. Your brothers and sister are considering whether they’d like to write something that we can take with us for Gina to read. It’s time. That’s all.” He raised a questioning brow that didn’t require an answer.

And there was a small sting in that. The fact they weren’t asking my permission. They weren’t even asking my opinion. They were simply letting me know. And with that realisation, something else occurred to me. They really were moving on with their lives, in stark contrast to the anger that still boiled in my own heart. Everyone except me, that was.

I drew a deep breath and let the weight of the realisation sink in, before speaking in a small voice I barely recognised as my own. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

My mother patted my leg. “Then don’t say anything. Just think about it. Your brothers and sister would love it if you came to the tree planting in Landford Park if you feel up to it on the day. We’re also going to sponsor a bench to be put under it. But if you can’t get there, we understand. And we can still be there at the cemetery, you know that.”

Fucking, fucking tears.“No,” I finally croaked, far too loudly. “Sorry. I just mean that I’ve got some thinking to do after... today. I get that this is about me, not you guys.” I managed a small smile. “Someone recently helped me understand how lucky our family is to have each other.”

My mother raised a curious brow but said nothing.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to write a letter to... Gina or... plant a tree, although I’m not opposed to the latter, I suppose. Can I just say, I’ll think about it?” I surprised myself by not choking on the words. “But I also don’t want to drag you guys down with my issues. I won’t be hurt if you’re not there. It might actually be easier that way. I think there are things I need to do. But I promise I’ll join you all for dinner, if that’s still okay?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” My mother enfolded me in her arms and I felt twelve all over again, in the best way. “Of course, it’s okay. We just want what’s best for you. And if that’s different from the rest of us, that’s perfectly fine. But if you change your mind and want some company, even if it’s just your father and me, we’ll be there, no questions asked.”

I nodded silently and my mother let me go. I set about guzzling the rest of my Coke because, who the hell knew why, and then sat there twirling the empty can in my hands and staring at the table.

After a minute or so, my father cleared his throat. “We’ve also discussed starting a happy scrapbook about Caitlyn,” he began carefully. “For Susie and any other grandchildren or in-laws we might be lucky enough to collect along the way. Memories, photos, newspaper clippings, anything that reminds us of how special she was. We thought we could each bring something to the dinner to start it off... if you wanted to contribute, that is.”

I struggled to swallow past the lump in my throat. A happy scrapbook. It was so very Caitlyn. And it was something I should’ve thought of. Something I could’ve done for myself. I had a head full of happy memories. Funny that the painful ones seemed so much easier to access. God, were they right about me?

I drew a sharp breath. “I, um... yeah... thanks. I’d like that.”

We talked a little more, and by the time we parted ways, it was five in the afternoon, Flare was closed, and the ache in my heart was filling my head. My phone screen flashed on the countertop and I grabbed it, noting the string of missed messages and calls.

Chris.

My heart tripped at the thought he’d been worried about me.

How did it go?

Do you still want to come over?

No problem if you don’t.

I’m here if you want to talk.

Or not.

We could just watch a movie.

I promise not to pry.

If you’re getting these please just let me know you’re okay.

Is this too much?

This is too much, right?

I’m going to put my phone away.

Sorry. I’m just worried.

I told you I’m no good at this boyfriend shit.

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