Page 49 of A December to Remember
“Of course it did, you were a child. Children are malleable and impressionable—they look to their caregivers to set their moral compass. Her negative assertions colored your images of your family and made you feel guilty for enjoying your time with them. You were too young to go against the status quo, so you pushed your feelings down.”
“Wow. Way to sum me up.”
“Only with love, baby. Only ever with love.”
Simone stood and began to walk between the sitting room and the kitchen and back again, like a cat in a cage that’s too small. “I don’t want to be an emotional fortress.”
“So take down your walls. You’ve already begun with Patrick. Take those feelings forward. Every time you want to stump a conversation in its tracks, ask yourself why you feel defensive before you snap.”
“Every conversation with my family makes me feel defensive!”
Evette laughed softly down the phone. “And what does that tell you?”
“That my family is annoying?”
“You know the saying ‘You always hurt the ones you love’?”
“Oh, ick!” She totally loved them, and Evette knew it. God, she missed Evette so much. “I wish you were here.” She sigheddown the phone and flopped back into the dent she’d left in the sofa.
“And you know why I’m not.”
“It is helping, I think, being away. I didn’t think it would, but I’ve been so busy with Dad’s nonsense that sometimes I’ll go hours without thinking about baby stuff.”
“And when you remember?” Evette pressed gently.
She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. The first millisecond always felt like someone had just thrown a basketball at her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. Then the crawling disappointment slipped into the empty cavity inside her chest, snaking and twisting until she wanted to scream and keep on screaming.
Holding the phone between her ear and shoulder, she made tight fists of her hands, digging her nails into her palms harder and harder until the pain vanquished the threat of tears.
“It hurts,” she said through gritted teeth.
“My love.” Her wife’s voice was tender. “I think it’s going to feel like that for a long time.”
“Aren’t you supposed to tell me that it’ll get better soon?”
“It’s going to take as long as it takes. You are grieving, you can’t rush it.”
“Don’t you miss me?”
“Yes. I miss you.”
“Good.”
Simone could sense her wife smiling and it brought her back to safer shores.
“Doyoumissme?” asked Evette.
“Not so much.”
She was rewarded with Evette’s explosive laughter down the phone. “Cheeky mare!”
“Of course I miss you. You’re my best friend. And I’m horny. The bed here is massive, it feels like such a waste.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make up for lost time when you come home, won’t we?”
The smile in Evette’s voice had grown, and Simone could swear she felt the warmth of it down the phone. Hope bloomed in her chest for the first time in months. She wouldn’t have thought it this time last week, but it was good that she was here, itwaswhat she needed.Will wonders never cease?she thought.
21
