Page 72 of Wish You Were Mine
I picked up my laptop again, trying to focus on my assignment and the murmured conversation Nora and Mayci were having across the room about the Michigan beam lineup.
But then, my phone buzzed again.
Theo’s friend: He wasn’t too strict. Lost his temper from time to time, but now that I’m older I can see that was mostly just his stress taking over. There was a lot going on back then. My mom was checked out at times so he was raising three kids on his own at some points.
I blinked, something in my chest softening as I read it again.
I hadn’t expected that answer. He’d seemed so perfect and grounded, like he’d grown up in a house with matching holiday pajamas and French toast Sundays.
Me: Has he chilled out since then?
My dad definitely had, once Theo and I moved out.
Apparently, parenting was stressful for everyone.
And his mom had been checked out?
Owen’s response didn’t come in immediately. But then he said:
Theo’s friend: He actually passed. Almost ten years ago.
I stared at his message, the words sinking in slow.
He actually passed. Almost ten years ago.
I sat back a little, fingers still on the phone, but no words coming right away.
I hadn’t expected him to say that.
And now that he had, I realized I didn’t know anything about his family. Nothing about where he came from.
Nothing about his loss.
I exhaled slowly, trying to think of what to say. Something that wouldn’t sound stiff or awkward. Somethingthat wouldn’t feel like I was tiptoeing around grief like it was a puddle on the sidewalk.
Something Theo might have needed to hear after Alisha died.
Finally, I typed:
Me: I’m really sorry, Owen. That must’ve been so hard.
I stared at the blinking cursor for a second longer.
Then added:
Me: He must’ve been a really great person. Raising someone like you.
I sent the message, my stomach tight.
And waited.
The screen stayed still. No dots. No reply.
Maybe I’d said the wrong thing. Maybe he didn’t want sympathy. Maybe I should’ve kept it lighter—just saidI’m sorryand left it at that.
I stared at my phone, thumb brushing against the edge of the case as I tried listening to Mayci and Nora, but my brain was only half there.
He said his dad had passed about ten years ago. So…with Owen being twenty-eight or twenty-nine, that meant he’d lost his dad when he was probably just starting college.
