Page 44 of When It Rains He Pours

Chapter Nine

Glory

Waking up in the morning, I actually felt good. The sun was up, my mind wasn't hurting and throbbing, and for the first time in weeks, I could envision fixing the mess at my feet.

Climbing out of bed, I checked the time and decided to take a quick shower before heading to the gallery. I wasn't going to just give up on this, I didn't have to. I had to keep trying, I couldn't just throw up my hands and walk away.

Liam was right, I loved what I did, and walking away wasn't an option. It shouldn't matter what came my way, I should always keep going.

Throwing on my clothes, I pulled my hair back and grabbed my tote, determined to figure this shit out.

I had a list inside my head; grab breakfast, hit the store for more supplies, and paint my ass off.

I've got this, I have to.

My phone pinged, so I grabbed it and checked the message. My mother was still wondering when I was coming over and if I had the rent money. I knew she meant well, I understood that she depended on me, but it was hard to go home.

It hadn't felt the same there since my father died. The place felt empty, quiet, as if something was missing; and it was—he was gone.

He had been almost seven years since he left us and I felt like I still wasn't over it yet. People say that the pain eases with time, but it didn't feel like that to me. I lost my father when I was a teenager, at the tender age of sixteen. He made it two years after his diagnosis and I still hadn't come to terms with it.

It felt like time made me more aware of the fact he wasn't there, that every day that passed since we put him in the ground was another day I missed him even more. It was a pain that was deep, one that followed you around, reminding you it was there whenever it had the chance.

Typing quickly, I told her I'd be over in a little bit to drop off the money. My stomach pitted at the idea. I could still smell the scent of my father's cologne in the air, it still felt like he would emerge from one of the rooms or come walking down the hallway.

I avoided the home I grew up in as much as I could, just to distance myself from the memories I couldn't bear.

Walking out of the building, I started towards the bank. My list of errands had grown a little, but the day was still young. It was almost ten in the morning, I had plenty of time left to get everything else done.

Taking my phone back out, I scrolled through the numbers and pulled up Liam. Opening a new message, I decided to send him a simple good morning.

'Good morning, hope you have a good meeting.'

Ping. 'Morning beautiful, I'll be over once I'm done. Will you be at the gallery?'

'Probably, but I have to stop at my mom's first and run a few errands. Where is your meeting?'

'Coffee Cake's. But I'm not sure how long I'll be. Why? Miss me already?'

Giggling, I smiled to myself.'Maybe.'

'You miss me. I'll text you before I come. I gotta get ready.'

Dropping my phone into my tote, I pulled out my wallet as I reached the ATM. Plugging in my numbers, I took out the rent money. Checking the balance, I grumbled to myself, knowing that right then that was all I had to my name.

Four grand. . .

Folding up the cash, I tucked it into my back pocket and started for my mom's house. The streets were busy as usual for this time of year. The tourists were starting to filter in like packs of wild animals, their cars clogging up the road.

Trucks were pulling boats down to the harbor, mini-vans were packed with families that were heading to the motels or cottages by the ocean. The summer was great for business, but bad if you wanted that quaint quiet a small town could offer.

Rounding the corner, I turned up Gorton ave. My mother's home was three blocks away, a stone throw from my gallery, but I barely ever walked this way if I didn't have to. My art had become my world, but not for just me, for her too.

I spent my days and nights working, never taking the time anymore to go for Sunday dinner or pop in just to say hello. She used to give me shit for it, but I think she understood my reasons.

She stopped bothering me about it, allowing me to do things at my own pace. That's what I needed most, time.

Sometimes I wondered if she realized how hard it was on me to be responsible for her. But we never talked about it, it was one of those elephant in the room conversations I didn't want to have.

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