Page 16 of Just Another Chance

“Oh, Addie, I don’t know how to say this, but-” Her voice hitches in a sob and I sit up straighter.

“What?” I ask, feeling a wave of dread.

“Mom died this morning.”

“What?” The floor falls out from beneath me and pain crashes through my heart. “What happened?”

“She had a heart attack. Just like Dad.”

“Oh, God,” I murmur and swipe a hand through my hair. Shockwaves pass over me like earthquake tremors and my vision blurs with tears. I can’t believe this.

“And everything is a mess. I don’t know if you knew or not, but Randy took off a few weeks ago. Now I’m stuck with a pile of bills and a burial that I can’t afford to pay for. I need help, Addie. I need you to come home and help me bury Mom.”

“Yeah, of course,” I say instantly. “Whatever I need to do.”

“When can you be here?”

“Um…” I sigh and chew on my lower lip. “I’m going to have to ask for vacation time from work and-”

“Addie, this is going to take more than a couple of weeks to clear up. Everything is a massive mess and I have no idea what to do first. Do you know if Mom had an insurance policy?”

“I’m not sure,” I say as the weight of the situation hits me.

“I found a bunch of papers in her desk drawer, and I don’t know what to make of them.”

As I think about the current situation, it’s almost like the Universe is telling me to move back home. For good. I haven’t been happy the last two years here in Jersey and I think it’s time to pack up and go home.

“You think I should move back home?” I ask Kayla.

“I would love it if you moved back here,” she says, voice dropping. “I miss my big sis and my nephew. I’d really like to meet him,” she quickly adds. “I’ve been so crazy busy and meaning to come visit, but you know how time slips away. I don’t even know where the last two years went.”

As tempestuous as our relationship can sometimes be, I miss her, too. My gaze moves over my small apartment, and I try to calculate how long it will take me to box our belongings up. Probably only a couple of days. So, if I get packed up this weekend, I can be on the road Monday morning. I tell Kayla my plan and she squeals.

“Oh, thank God. I’m so happy you’re coming home. And if you ever need a babysitter, you just let me know.”

“I’ll be taking you up on that offer, Auntie Kayla,” I say, and she chuckles.

“Any time,” she reassures me.

We say goodbye and after I hang up the phone, I fall back on the couch and close my eyes. Tears start seeping out of my closed lids and it breaks my heart that I wasn’t there when my mom died. Maybe I never should’ve left.

I guess hindsight is 20/20, though, and now it’s up to me to go back and straighten everything out. Kayla may have good intentions, but she’s a hot mess most of the time. I’ve always been the responsible, steady one and I will make sure to handle my mom’s affairs properly and with the respect and dignity she deserves.

The one thing that makes me nervous about returning to New York is, of course, running into Tanner. Realistically, I suppose the chances of it happening are slim to none since we move in completely different circles. He’s probably off playing golf and talking about tech stocks with his rich friends most days while I’ll be in South Grove with the other working-class grunts.

Still, it worries me. If I stumble into him, I wouldn’t know what to do or say.

Think positively,I tell myself. There’s just no way it could happen.

Besides, my focus isn’t on him; it needs to be on my mom and her affairs.

Even though I’m tired, it occurs to me that once again I’m uprooting my life and that gives me a burst of sudden energy. There’s a small excitement that comes with change and I immediately start going through things.

I’ve been living fairly simply these past couple of years with only the barest of necessities so that makes packing much less stressful. I’m going to have to go find some boxes tomorrow and plan to drive behind a couple of big stores and snag some before they crush them in the compactor. Because I certainly don’t have extra money to buy boxes.

In the meantime, I spend the next couple of hours organizing the things I’m going to take and throwing out junk that won’t make the move. After going through the kitchen and a couple of closets, I’m tired. I brush my teeth, wash my face and send up a silent prayer of gratitude that Owen is a good boy who usually sleeps through the night.

After putting my pajamas on, I slip into bed, and my gaze drifts to my nightstand. Leaning over, I pull the drawer open, reach a hand into the back and retrieve the frame.

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