Page 44 of Adoration: Isn't What It Seems (Love Isn't What It Seems 2)

Mom’s hand visibly shook as she pushed strands of hair out of her pale face, dark circles under her hazel eyes, making them look bruised.Why didn’t I see it?

Lena stepped in. “Let’s just all take a deep breath.”

“You know who your parents are, Lena. It sucks putting N/A each time I fill out an application asking for my father’s name.”

“Livy,” my mother begged. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do it right now.”

Our eyes locked, mine full of anger and disappointment, hers full of sorrow and something else, I couldn’t quite read. Her eyes darted away from me, staring out the window, a haunted look lingering in them.

A few weeks later, I stood next to the priest, looking vacantly in front of me, desperately blinking away the tears that were blurring my vision. Lena squeezed my hand, both of us still in shock. One moment she was here and the next she was gone.

The coffin that held my mom’s body lay in front of me with the abundance of white and light pink peonies spread on top of it. The sweet and rosy smell of peonies all around me. Smell of Mom, home, and death mixed in my lungs as her coffin was slowly lowered into the ground; my mom forever gone.

The next morning I got up, dragging myself out of the bed. The image in the mirror looked like a tired ghost with dark shadows under her eyes staring back at me. My dark hair made me appear even paler and I pinched my cheeks, trying to get some color into them. All I succeeded was causing myself physical pain.

It has been two weeks since Lena’s funeral, and I felt like I was failing Brandon miserably. I got a call from school, I forgot to pack him lunch and change of clothes… again. So I ran to the nearest store during Alexander’s meeting. It was quicker than running all the way home. At this rate, I’d be spending all my paycheck on new clothes for Brandon.

I bought him lunch and a change of clothes and ran to his daycare to drop them off. I felt like Mr. Jackson was frowning at me, judging me as I profusely apologized over and over again for forgetting, and then promptly cut him off during his speech, telling him I was late and had to run back to work.

I had been trying to keep it together all day, but my mind kept screaming at me. How could I take care of him if I forgot little things like that? I felt like crying all day. Instead, I ignored it all, focused on completing all the tasks in robot-like motions and shutting off my mind.

It was past five in the afternoon and I wasn’t even sure if Alexander was in the office or not. I tried to finish up before I left when my cell phone rang.

“Hello,” I answered it.

“Liberty,” Layla’s voice reached me over the phone. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past few days!”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Been busy.”

I’d been busy trying to figure out how to be a caretaker to a child. She always called at the wrong moment or when I was already asleep. It was as if she couldn’t comprehend I had a responsibility.

“Are you ok?” she asked in a concerned voice. “How are you and Brandon holding up?”

“We are doing okay,” I lied. Why would she even ask that? Two weeks after the funeral, how did she think we were?

“I was wondering,” she started and there was slight hesitation, which made the hair on the back of my neck stand. “Do you want to go on a double date this Friday?”

“Double date?” I asked feeling dumb.

“Yes,” she answered. “You and your date, and me along with mine.”

I shoved my hand through my hair. “I know what double date means,” I told her agitated.

“So you want to do it?” Her voice sounded hopeful.

I felt like my nerves were teetering on the edge, but I tried to keep calm. Maybe I was taking a page out of Alexander’s book.

“I don’t have a babysitter nor a date,” I answered calmly, although I felt like crying and screaming. I was tired and cranky.

“That’s ok,” she replied assuringly. “I can set you up with someone.”

“Thank you, but no,” I told her annoyed. Sometimes Layla was just oblivious to everything.

“It will be good for you to go out,” she tried to convince me. “And he is a really nice guy. You need to get your mind off some things.”

“I don’t want a blind double date,” I almost shouted into the phone, my head in my hand. “It won’t be good for me. And I don’t have a babysitter. Seriously, Layla!”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, apologizing immediately, which made me feel even worse. Layla usually responded with anger, not apology.

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