Page 82 of Moonlit Kisses

–molly–

God.I can’t breathe.

Everything feels like it’s closing in on me.

I have to tell this woman that her daughter will never come home. I absorb Max’s comforting touch as I recount the events that stole my family from me, sending Joanna’s world crashing to the ground and mine spiraling downward as well.

The sadness in the room is stifling and if it weren’t for Max holding me, I would do what I always do when everything gets too much. Curl up in my bed and hide under the covers. Try to block out the world with sleep and hope that when I wake, things are back to the way they should be. Mom would always let me have my time to wallow, then she would insist that I make a plan and move forward. It’s what she always did.

“M– Molly.” I turn toward Joanna. “I … I’m so sorry. Do you think you can find it in your heart to ever … forgive me?” Her eyes are swollen and red and I know that if I could see inside her chest, her heart would be in tiny pieces like mine. Her heartbreak is oozing from every pore. “I’ve missed Nicole and you every single day since she left us. I only hope you’ve had a good life.”

“My life’s been good. It’s been hard at times, but I’ve had a great life.” Max huffs behind me, mumbling something.

“Hard would be an understatement, Molly.” He looks at me with disbelief in his eyes. He glances up at Joanna and Beth. “They lived out of Nicole’s car until Molly was eleven.” Joanna and Beth gasp and I stare at him in disbelief, trying to block them out.

Hurt fills me swiftly and I pull away from him to stand on shaky legs. “Max. I shared that with you in confidence. It wasn’t your place to tell anyone. You had no right.” I scan the room, seeing faces full of pity. I spin on my heel, grab my bag, and take off out the front door before anyone can stop me.

Run.

I need to run.

Even though I don’t have my running gear on, I take off sprinting down the street, the sun sits heavy on the horizon as the streetlights turn on. I’m not sure where I’m going to go, but I can’t be in that house with Beth and Joanna looking at me with eyes full of pity and guilt. I’m not sure why I’m hurt that Max told them about my living arrangements growing up, but I am.

My lungs burn and my feet hurt from pounding the concrete in the wrong shoes, but my mind won’t switch off. What are they going to think of me? Will they think I’m less than because of the way I grew up? Will they blame Mom? I don’t want them to. She did the best she could with what she had. She could have taken better-paying jobs, but she always put me first. She never wanted to leave me in care, and we had no family to look after me, to allow her to work longer hours.

I don’t want them to judge her.

I don’t want them to judgeme.

Max’s workshop comes into view, and I slow down. At the bottom of the steps, I kick out my feet with my hands resting on my hips to catch my breath. I’m tempted to go upstairs and curl up on the bed, but Max might come here looking for me and I can’t face him right now.

Walking around to the back of the workshop, my car comes into view. I’ve been leaving it here most nights. It’s easier for Max and me to share a ride to work now that I’m living with him. I climb in and drive.

It’s not like I’ve got anywhere to go. I drive aimlessly through the streets until I find myself at the beach. I’m not surprised I ended up here. There’s something about the beach that calms and settles me. Reaching into the backseat, I grab the jacket that I left there and climb out of my car. I lock it and head down to the shoreline, my shoes sinking into the soft sand as I trek closer to the water’s edge. Crossing my legs, I drop to my butt and watch the waves kiss the shore by moonlight. I pull my jacket tighter around my body and drop my chin to my knees. I get lost in watching the waves roll in and out.

Max never gave me the impression he felt sorry for me, but maybe he does. I never want anyone’s pity. I think that’s part of the reason I enjoy volunteering at the women’s shelter. I know the women don’t want pity, and I’m able to interact with them on a level that doesn’t include pity or shame or judgment. It’s not something Mom or I ever wanted and I know it’s not something they want.

I draw in deep breaths and release each one slowly, trying to untangle my thoughts.

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