Page 92 of Seeds of Love
What the hell did I just do?
ALEX
NOW – SOPHOMORE YEAR – MAY
“You did it!” my mom’s voice screeches down the phone. I yank it away from my ear, wincing.
“I did!” I laugh, her excitement infectious despite the ringing in my ear.
“Oh, Alexandria, I knew you could do it. What did I always tell you? If you set goals for yourself?—”
“Look right at ‘em and fly,” I finish for her, rolling my eyes but smiling.
“That’s the spirit! Oh, this is wonderful. I’d tell your father, but he’s in meetings all morning. I’ll let him know later, okay?”
“Of course,” I say, not surprised. Even with enough money to retire, Dad still works every hour God gives him. It’s how they both are—hard work comes first and can get you anywhere.
“Thanks, Mom,” I add, genuine gratitude in my voice.
“Oh honey, I can’t wait to tell my clients about this. You’re the perfect example of long-term goal setting. You’ve wanted to be in this program for what, ten years?”
Eight, I correct mentally, thinking back to the year after Emma passed.
“And because you didn’t falter, you’ve achieved it! Oh yes, this will make an excellent example for my clients.”
I take a deep breath. Can’t I accomplish something without it becoming a coaching opportunity? Can I live my life without being an example to somebody?
“Anyway, I have to go now. Busy, busy day ahead. But I’m so proud of you, honey. Emma would be too,” she adds softly.
My eyes prickle at the mention of Emma. I know it’s as tough for my mom as it is for me. Her sister, Emma’s mom, hasn’t been the same since her death, and it’s strained the whole family.
“Thanks,” I manage, ending the call before I risk breaking down. If I cry, Mom will insist oncoachingme through my tears, which is about as awful as it sounds and the last thing I need right now.
My fingers tremble as I reread the acceptance email for the fifth time. GSRI. The golden ticket I’d been chasing for years. I should be jumping, screaming, dancing around. Instead, I sit motionless, staring at the screen as an inexplicable heaviness settles in my chest.
Freddie’s words echo in my head.
You can’t bring her back.
He was right. I can’t. And that shatters me all over again.
I miss him. I hate him, but I miss him. And also, I don’t really hate him. Not at all. I miss him so much it makes me want to run to his place and declare I was wrong, apologize for everything.
The GSRI acceptance email stares back at me, a dream realized. But as I look at it, I can’t help but want to tear it up.
The day of the presentation to the judges—the last time I saw him—was Emma’s birthday. Freddie didn’t know, of course. I hadn’t told him. But it meant his words cut deeper than they would have on any other day.
Emma would have been thirty. She loved big family get-togethers, so we would have thrown her a huge party. I can’t imagine what thirty would have looked like on her. Would she have a few wrinkles? Would her teenage softness have angled out? Maybe she’d have a husband, a baby.
It’s torture to think about the what-ifs of her life—of all the things she didn’t get to experience.
I stare at the words on the screen.
Alexandria Ford, we are delighted to accept you onto the GSRI Promising Students Internship Program…
The words I’ve been hoping for sink into my stomach like lead weights. The silver leaf pendant weighs heavy against my chest. Emma’s voice echoes in my head: “For the hearts that burn for justice.” It doesn’t feelenough.
I dial Freddie before I can talk myself out of it. Then I hang up immediately, embarrassment and regret washing over me.
