Page 73 of What Comes After

I didn’t know what to do, but as I turned into the driveway of my childhood home, I prayed my mom would.

The moment I walked inside, I felt a peace settle over me. And as soon as I saw my mom, a warmth moved through me.

All she needed to do was take one look at me. That was it. One look, and she knew. “Your heart is broken, isn’t it?” she asked.

Something told me that even if her words had been posed as a question, my mom already knew the answer. Even still, I nodded and confirmed, “Yeah.”

She moved toward me, lifted her arms, and wrapped them around me. “It’s going to be okay,” she promised, hugging me tightly.

I wanted to believe her, because I couldn’t bear the alternative, but there was a very big part of me that felt so hopeless. I couldn’t bring myself to respond and tell her.

“Sit down,” she urged after she’d loosened her hold on me. I did as she asked, and the moment I was seated, she asked, “What happened with Devyn?”

“She’s gone.”

“Gone?”

My throat tightened painfully as I nodded. “I took her to the doctor last week, and she was cleared to resume all activities. It was great news, and I’m still relieved to know that she’s healed well. But I was surprised when we got back to the house and Devyn said she was going to run up and pack her things.”

Concern washed over my mom as she asked, “She wanted to go back to her apartment?”

I nodded. “Yes. And I questioned her about it, because I couldn’t understand why she seemed so adamant about leaving so quickly. The next thing I knew, she was telling me all about how we lived in different worlds, and how I couldn’t possibly comprehend what it’s like for her. She made it seem as though I didn’t understand why she’d need to return to work or that she had bills to pay.”

“Obviously, I think you know that people need to work to survive, but I can’t say her thoughts are completely far-fetched. Maybe she just meant that you don’t have that understanding of what it’s like to struggle financially,” my mom reasoned.

I shook my head. “This was more than that.”

“I assume you took her back to her apartment.”

“I did.”

“Have you spoken to her since?”

Something tightened in my chest. I’d gone from seeing her every single day for weeks on end, and now it had been five days since I’d had a conversation with her.

“No.”

“Why not?” my mom pressed.

I thought that was self-explanatory, but the expectant look on my mother’s face told me that it might not have been as clear to her as it was to me.

“She doesn’t want me around her,” I answered.

My mother’s expression turned dubious. “Did she say that?”

“No, but it’s obvious, isn’t it?” I countered. “She wanted to go home, and she hasn’t reached out to me since I took her there. And in all the thinking I’ve done over the last couple of days, I’ve come to realize that she didn’t do much of that when I was away, either.”

Curiosity washed over her. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed hard, hating that I was going to have to finally admit this out loud. “I was always the one reaching out to her. I’d call her when I could, and I’d frequently send texts to her. I did what I could to make sure we never lost that connection.”

“But it was different,” my mom reasoned.

“What?”

There was a beat of silence as she took a few seconds to consider how to respond. “Think about your relationship with Devyn from the start. For years, she had you right at her fingertips. All she had to do was walk out her front door and take a few steps to get to you. To talk to you in person. She went from having the ability to see you whenever she wanted to barely seeing you a couple of days a year. I’m not saying you didn’t do what you could to remain in touch with her, but your absence was your decision. You went off and did what you always wanted to do. She was here, and she was the one who lost you.”

“I wanted her to go with me. I asked her to come out there with me,” I argued.

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